She smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “You,” she said.
“You,” he repeated. Buthis“you” held none of the giddy excitement hers had. His “you” was surprised. Maybe even a little hurt.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, tucking the flyaways escaping her ponytail behind her ears. Nerves lit up in the tips of her fingers like lightning bugs. He didn’t seem happy to see her again. Unease and dread replaced her joy.
“I was about to ask you the same question, Elaine Davis. What are you doing atmyhouse?”
Fragmented bits of information fell into place all at once. The attractive newcomer in the offseason and the mysterious nephew who was trying to remove her from her home were one and the same. Her Elliot from Ridr was Gil Hodges’s nephew. He had to be. Which made some sort of sense. Attractive people never came to Timber Creek in March without a reason. That tiny, hopeful flame that’d flickered in her chest ever since their rain-soaked encounter blew out like a birthday candle.
“Yourhouse?” she scoffed. “So, you think because your uncle died, you’re entitled to a place you’ve never even been before? Wow.” She stretched out the single syllable, hoping a more cogent—or at least more cutting—argument would surface, but it seemed the Wisconsin public school system had failed her in this highly specific area.
“Yes, I thought when my uncle transferred thetitleto a resort tomethat I would be, in fact,entitledto it. So imagine my surprise when I discovered that some two-bit con woman was claiming squatters’ rights onmyproperty.”
“Two-bit?” Lainey’s laugh sliced at her insides, her eyes squinting into the sun glaring over his shoulder. The thin veil between peace and pain was lifting. She could already feel her body starting to turn on her.
“That’sthe part you take issue with?” His head swung behind him as if searching for witnesses to this conversation.
His dark brows folded inward, and his long limbs paced her yard like an angry, hulking scribble. Each time their eyes caught, his face twisted like he might be sick. He pulled his glasses off his face and rubbed the lenses on his shirt. “Fine. You’re a very sophisticated scam artist—are you happy?” He put his glassesback on and eyed the piece she’d been working on. “What am I looking at here?”
“It’s…” She removed her work gloves and considered how best to explain that she wasn’t sure what he was looking at either.
She shook her head. “It’s not finished.” They were getting off topic. She folded her arms across her chest. “What did you come here for?” Did he think he could just show up here, flash a smile, and ask her nicely to leave her own house?
“I thought I should meet the trespasser who was trying to steal my house out from under me before I challenge your ludicrous claim on it in court.”
“I’m not stealing your house. I’ve lived here for twenty years. You never even knew this place existed until a week ago.”
“Nobody did!” He practically vibrated with each syllable. “Do you even know what Forest’s Bridgeis? Do you appreciate its artistic significance or the years I’ve spent studying Vincent Groff’s work? I wrote a dissertation on the man whose carport you’ve decided to store an open bonfire pit under, next to a bucket of oil-based stain.”
“I should’ve known you were an architect,” she said, like his field of study was a curse word. “Your elbow patches have ‘Groff fanboy’ embroidered all over them.”
He folded his arms, ignoring her comment. “I’m shocked the place has lasted this long.”
A gray sedan rumbled down her drive. Lainey squinted at the familiar county emblem on the side door.
“Good. He’s here,” Elliot said, referring to the vehicle kicking up dirt and rocks in the distance.
“Who’s here?” The car pulled closer, and the driver cameinto view. Brad Bauer of Bauer Mart—a family-owned gas and convenience store that sold all the ordinary mini-mart fare, and also live lobster for some inexplicable reason—stepped out of the car and onto her driveway.
“My lawyer tipped me off on some potential safety hazards in the carport.” He waved his hand in the direction of the workshop she’d built up over the years, admittedly with no regard for building codes. Her stomach knotted. “As the rightful property owner, I took it upon myself to notify the local inspector. I still own the land surrounding the house, you know,” Elliot reminded her, his voice much too casual while delivering such obvious threats.
“I’m aware,” she replied through gritted teeth. Along with his criminally high bill for attorney’s fees, Mark had emailed Lainey something to that effect, adding that—without a deal with Elliot regarding the surrounding property—selling the house on its own would be “tricky.”
Lainey breathed in and out through her nose, hoping to release some of the pressure rapping against her skull. Elliot looked at her with assessing eyes. It unsettled her.
“Hmm,” Lainey responded flatly. “How very Karen-y of you.”
“I’m not sure I formally introduced myself. Elliot Hodges,” he told her as his bureaucratic thug sidled up beside him.
Lainey battled an eye roll. “I gathered as much from context clues.”
Brad wandered off to her carport, armed with a clipboard and a scrutinizing gaze. For men like Brad, there was no occasion that didn’t call for stained Carhartt coveralls, and this was no exception. From time to time, she’d seen him top the ensemble with a reflective vest to walk his Pomeranian in the morning,giving him the appearance of an aircraft marshal shuttling in a tiny, furry plane. He couldn’t have looked more different from Elliot, in his crisp khaki pants and cashmere sweater.
“Can we make this quick?” Lainey asked. The nausea was starting to crest, leaving her face feeling heavy, like the skin in her cheeks was pulling her to the ground. She wanted nothing more than to succumb to the weight and shove her head under a pillow.
“Are you okay? You’re looking a little…” Elliot hesitated. His weaselly little plan was unfolding exactly as he’d hoped, but for reasons Lainey couldn’t comprehend, the man looked ill. “On second thought…maybe, another time would—”
“Youwanted to do this. Fine. Let’s do it quickly,” Lainey said, her tone a scythe. He’d started this fight, and it was too late to adopt a conscience now. Lainey turned to face the man in coveralls. “What’ve you got for me, Bauer?”
