Archie just smiled up at her as if to say he knew his charms were irresistible. Which he did.
She headed back upstairs to finish her dinner. She grabbed the remote before sitting down, pushing the power button as she did. Archie went back to his blanket.
The television flickered to life, showing all the different streaming apps that were available. She clicked on one she subscribed to, signed in, and went to the show she was in the process of binging. It was a house renovation competition show.
But as she watched, she realized having the show on meant there was Wi-Fi available. Had Arlington made allowances for that to be paid for as well? He must have, since she was able to connect. He must have also paid for someone to clean the place periodically, because it was in good shape. Just like the landscaping had been looked after. She really needed to go through that paperwork.
She reached for her phone and made a note to do that soon. Her battery was low. She’d have to dig through her carry-on bag for the charger. She took her phone into the bedroom, found the charger, and got the device plugged in before going back out to finish her salad. Halfway through the next episode, she started yawning. She paused the show. “Maybe we should just go to bed and read.”
Archie whined softly.
“Right. After I take you out one more time.”
She put shoes on, grabbed Archie’s leash, and they went down in the elevator. She took him out through the rec room, past the pool to the grass near the edge of the property. While he did his thing, she looked at the house to the right of the property. It was slightly more visible through the trees from this spot.
Mitchell Ripley’s house. It shouldn’t be surprising that an author of his caliber lived out here. There were probably other famous people in Hideaway Bay. But he was a pretty big deal. Not only did he write books that consistently hit the bestsellers lists, but his series on Netflix was about to release its third season.
He was also a notorious recluse.
Joyce’s information about his wife dying and him not being the same afterwards made sense. Harper felt for him. She’d experienced loss in her life, but nothing to that extent. For that, he got a pass on being less than neighborly to her earlier.
The only light on in the house that she could see was the blue flicker of a television set from what was probably the living room. It wasn’t that late. Just about nine. But something about that flickering blue light made her think he probably didn’t sleep much, either.
Archie did his business, which she cleaned up, then he rolled in the grass, snuffling with happiness at the end of the leash. She smiled. “This is a nicer yard than back home, huh?”
He came over, sat by her feet, and looked up at her.
“Ready to go in?”
She knew the answer to that question already. They went back inside and took the elevator to the second floor. Archie followed her to the bedroom, where he settled into his bed with Mr. Brown.
She took a few minutes to unpack the contents of her suitcase. Most of it went into the dresser, the rest got hung up in the closet. The one that had been Arlington’s, since it was the closest. She rolled the empty case into the other closet and closed the door. From her carry-on, she took out her tablet and its charger.
The tablet went onto the bed. Her phone was on the nightstand. She’d plugged the charger in behind the nightstand so she’d have it nearby. She glanced toward the front of the house. She should have moved her car into one of the garages, she thought. But she wasn’t doing that now. In the morning. After she and Archie had a nice long walk on the beach.
If she was going to be this close to beach, she was going to take advantage of it.
They’d both benefit from the exercise anyway. This might be a vacation of sorts, but it was also a chance to work on herself. Keep fit mentally, emotionally, and physically, all things that would help with the stress she was currently under.
And all while trying to decide what she was going to do with herself next. She sat on the edge of the bed. If things went as bad as she thought they might, her career would be over. What would she do if she couldn’t go back to L.A.? Her skills were rather limited. Being a professional confidante wasn’t something that translated into much outside of the Hollywood realm. She could probably be someone’s personal assistant. Maybe.
If her reputation wasn’t completely shot. She doubted any of her clients would want to give her a reference.
She turned the lights off in the living room before returning to the bedroom. She checked that her phone was charging, which it was, then brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed.
The book she was reading at the moment wasn’t something she’d chosen. It was the first draft of a memoir by one of her clients, Titus Vance. He was one of the few child stars who’d made it to adulthood unscathed by his experiences in show business. He was now a successful director and producer who still stepped in front of the camera every once in a while.
It was interesting enough, but not what she was in the mood for.
He might not even want her thoughts if the truth about her came out.
She hugged the tablet to her chest and gazed up at the constellations on the ceiling. With just the bedside lamp on, the tiny gold stars gleamed against the flat white ceiling. The mural was beautifully done. The little stars were connected by tiny gold dashes to highlight the shape of each constellation.
Arlington had always loved the stars. He’d regularly complained about the excessive light in L.A. that made stargazing impossible. Maybe it was better here. There had been a telescope on the third floor.
She liked to think that he’d been happy here. Him and his family. Odd to sleep in a bed he’d once occupied.
The sensation of being alone and very far from home settled over her. A pang of longing filled her, accompanied by a sense of sadness that she might never be able to return to that life. Ford might not be the only thing that was gone.
