Harper hadn’t wanted her mom to be so far away, but it was the best facility she’d been able to find for what she could afford. Annie no longer knew who Harper was. It broke Harper’s heart. Her mom had been so good to her. Such a kind, quiet woman who never asked for much while giving all she had. Now she was lost in her own head, only emerging occasionally to rant and rave and curse.
That was not the mother Harper had known. That woman was long gone. Dementia was evil. It destroyed the person with it and those who loved them.
Harper let out a big sigh. She missed her parents. Life was hard. Not just for her. But hers had been a little harder than usual lately. She knew the thing with Ford would pass eventually, but then what?
Would she be able to go back to her life in California? She missed it. A little. Being on call for privileged celebrities wasn’t always fun. Sometimes it was a giant inconvenience. Some of them were genuinely nice people. Some were entitled brats. But she’d been smart with her money. Lived frugally. Saved as much as she could.
She glanced over her shoulder. And now she had this place. If only she could stay here forever and not worry about the world. She smiled at Archie. “Wouldn’t that be something?”
Archie’s head came up from whatever he was sniffing, and he stared, transfixed, into the darkness. Harper tried to follow his line of sight but whatever he was looking at was visible only to him.
She yawned, ready to go back in.
Without warning, he took off, yanking the leash from Harper’s hand and bolting across the property.
“Archie!” Harper hissed as loudly as she dared. She didn’t want to wake Frankie up. She ran after him as best she could in flipflops. Her robe flew open, flapping behind her. Thank heavens no one could see her. “Archie, come back here.Now.”
He kept going, lost to the pursuit of whatever he’d seen.
She caught up to him at the base of a tree on Mitch Ripley’s property. Archie was staring into the branches, barking. Small eyes shone back at them. She peered closer and a little black mask appeared amongst the leaves.
“Hush, you silly thing. It’s just a racoon.” She grabbed the leash and tried to drag him away, but he was determined to stay. “Archie, stop it or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?”
She gasped and looked up to see the man himself on his rear deck, glaring down at her. He was in pajama pants and a T-shirt. His hair was disheveled, and his feet were bare. Moonlight glazed him with shades of silver, making his dark eyes stand out even more.
She was instantly aware of how much skin she was showing. Her robe wasn’t any longer than her nightshirt, both ending at mid-thigh. “I’m really sorry. He yanked the leash out of my hand and—”
“You’re trespassing.”
She was too tired to manufacture a snappy comeback. “Right. Sorry about waking you up.” She hefted Archie into her arms—not an easy feat, because he probably weighed upwards of seventy pounds—and started back toward her house.
Thankfully, Mitch didn’t say another word. When she crossed over onto her property, she put Archie down and glanced back.
Mitch was still out there, watching her, but when he saw her looking, he turned and went inside.
Harper shook her head. Arlington’s wish wasnevergoing to come true.
ChapterSixteen
Frankie had slept like a dream. The mattress in her room probably cost more than her car. Whatever the price, it was worth every penny. After reluctantly getting out of bed, she brought her laptop downstairs with her to make coffee, doing her best to be quiet. She had no idea when Harper would get up and there was no reason for her not to sleep in. It was very possible she hadn’t yet adjusted to the difference in time zones. Eight a.m. in Florida was five a.m. in California.
Frankie opened cabinets until she found the coffee and the filters, then got a pot brewing. She admired the cabinetry and countertop. The whole house was impeccably well-designed. And now it belonged to her sister.
Frankie wasn’t jealous. Harper deserved it. She’d had a rougher go of things in life. And being a personal assistant to a bunch of celebrities sounded, at least to Frankie, like a lot of thankless, icky grunt work.
She’d seenThe Devil Wears Prada. Who hadn’t? In her mind, Harper probably worked for a bunch of women like Miranda Priestly. Cold, demanding, insufferable types with big egos and more money than they knew what to do with.
Poor Harper. At least Arlington had done something nice for her. In a big way.
Frankie took her laptop outside to sit and enjoy the morning while the coffee maker did its thing. She’d planned on logging on and doing some preliminary work on the children’s book she was illustrating, but the morning was just too beautiful to ignore.
Instead of work, she sat and admired the view. She could work later. And she would. She wanted to get the project done ahead of time to impress the publisher. Getting more work from them would be incredible. She really could use the money.
Her job paid all right, and the benefits were decent, but life was expensive. Her divorce had nearly bankrupted her but there was no way she could have stayed with Tom. He’d been repeatedly unfaithful, which was bad enough, but then he’d started to take his frustrations with his work out on her.
He’d never hit her. That wasn’t the problem. It was the yelling and the cutting remarks that chiseled away at her peace and confidence. She hated the feeling of walking on eggshells in her own home. Of never knowing what might set him off. Her job came with plenty of its own stresses. Her home needed to be a safe place. A sanctuary.
