Page 2 of Alec

“You’ve got it, Boss.” Olivia pulled on her cardigan and then eyed his wife. “He skipped lunch again, Mrs. Riley, so he should have dinner early today.”

“You’re fired,” Jack called after her as she walked out to the elevators.

Olivia was still grinning as she drove her little compact west from the city on Highway One to Monterey. She had been careful not to get too excited about the chance to survey an authentic medieval castle. As the surveyor with the least seniority on the staff, she usually went as an assistant to one of the others. Yet twelfth-century architecture was her specialty as well as her obsession, and she was thrilled to have the chance to finally see McKeran’s Castle in person.

This could do remarkable things for her future, too.

Since Olivia had finished her master’s degree, Jack Riley had been hinting about letting her solo as site manager on a project. If she was able to successfully supervise the work to repair the storm damage to the ancient Scottish stronghold, then she’d prove to her boss that she could handle taking lead from now on. The more experience she acquired, the better her chances became for someday taking on the restoration of a medieval European castle. That had been her dream since spending three amazing summers interning at Guédelon, an experimental version of the same in France.

All I have to do is convince Renard Beaumont to let us fix his castle.

Working and living on her own for ten years had built up Olivia’s confidence as well as her self-esteem. Since moving from Utah to California she had devoted all her energy to reinventing herself. It hadn’t been easy, either. Before she’d even started in the restoration architecture program at USC, she’d had to see a nutritionist, take driving lessons, a money management class, and watch hundreds of how-to videos. She had also gone to a therapist to learn how to cope with her new life.

Olivia didn’t have impossibly long hair like Rapunzel, but otherwise her life had been eerily similar to that of the fairytale princess.

Mae Gibson would have been furious with her for leaving Utah, going to college and working in California. Since Olivia’s birth she had kept her isolated and entirely dependent on her. Obeying her aunt and taking care of her in her old age was supposed to have been Olivia’s only purpose in life, at least according to the grim, controlling woman who had raised her.

You don’t need to work or go to college, Mae had told her when she was fifteen and had timidly asked about the future. I will provide for us. When I’m older, you’ll repay my kindness by looking after me.

Mae never spoke of the past or any family members. She’d only claimed that Olivia was her orphaned niece whenever anyone asked about her, not that many had. They had lived like hermits, so very few people even got the chance to speak to her aunt. While being home-schooled, the only time Olivia had been allowed to leave their house had been once a week on Sunday for church services. There had been no babysitters; when her aunt went to her job managing a local grocery store, Olivia stayed behind alone studying her lessons, practicing her embroidery, cleaning their tiny house, or whatever else Mae expected her to do. Failing to satisfy her aunt meant punishment that lasted for days, sometimes even weeks.

You may have been born in sin, her aunt had often said, but you will live a good and righteous life.

Reaching the front gates of Renard Beaumont’s property, which had an ornate letter B welded to the iron bars, Olivia pulled over and parked. All thoughts of her unfortunate childhood dwindled as she beheld McKeran’s Castle. It had to be one of the largest stone structures she had ever seen on American soil, a small mountain of red granite that seemed to go on forever. As she got out of her car a wintry breeze sifted icy fingers through her long, straight hair and chilled her face, but she hardly noticed.

McKeran’s was easily ten times the size of Guédelon.

At first glance the Scottish castle appeared in such excellent condition it looked as if it had been constructed last year rather than the twelfth century. Yet as Olivia studied the massive structure she noted the obvious signs of damage inflicted by the storms: multiple trees that had fallen onto the walls and roofs, a pile of stone rubble beside a partially collapsed tower, and what appeared to be a portion of a wrecked and twisted shed sitting in the middle of the spiraling drive.

Slowly she took out her cell phone and hit one on speed dial. When her boss answered, she said, “I’m at the property, sir. At first glance it looks like some structural repairs and possibly a tower rebuild. Am I still fired?”

“No. Take plenty of pictures,” Jack said, and then mumbled a mild curse under his breath. “I told you I don’t need–”

“My husband needs to go to x-ray now, Gibs,” Rebecca said suddenly over the line. “Once we have his foot cast I’m taking him home to rest, where he will stay until his blood pressure falls out of the stroke range. I left the phones on the answering service.”

“I understand, Mrs. Riley. I’ll check messages when I get back to the office,” Olivia assured her.

As soon as she ended the call, her phone rang again, and a glance at the display showed the number of a very wealthy widow who ran most of the upper-crust social events in Salinas.

Olivia had no obligation to answer the call, but she knew if she didn’t that the woman calling her would be waiting to do this in person when she got back to the office.

She swiped the green button and said, “This is Olivia Gibson.”

“Why didn’t you return the ring Charles gave you?” Elizabeth Kingston demanded. “He told me you insisted on ending your engagement last night. That ring belongs with our family, not my son’s greatest misstep to date. I would never allow you to marry him anyway, you nasty little runt. As if I’d let someone like you be the mother of my grandchildren.”

Don’t react, Olivia thought, and pressed her fingers against her temple. The few times she had met Charles’s mother she had tried to be polite, but the older woman reminded her too much of her Aunt Mae.

“Mrs. Kingston, Charles and I were never engaged,” she said, opting for the truth. “I actually stopped dating him last October. If the ring is missing, that means he’s gambling again. You should check that place over on East Market Street. I believe that’s where he sold the Rolex that he told you he lost.”

A hiss came over the phone. “This is your fault, you spiteful midget. You should never have broken his heart so callously. The stress was too much for my poor boy. I knew how it would be from the first time I met you...”

As the older woman continued to rant, Olivia wondered why she didn’t just hang up on her. Being able to talk to other people, even when they were vicious and called her names, still felt like a huge privilege.

“I have been trying to help him, ma’am,” Olivia said when Charles’s mother paused for a breath. “When we met for coffee last night he tried to take my wallet out of my purse.” As the other woman made a contemptuous sound she added, “He needs to get into a program, Mrs. Kingston. I can recommend a good therapist–”

The call abruptly ended with a sharp click.

Olivia slowly tucked away her phone. Her ex-boyfriend had already gambled away his trust fund, which she suspected his mother didn’t yet know. When Elizabeth found out he would make excuses, blame everyone but himself, and promise to stop gambling yet again. Charles knew that his mother’s love for him outweighed anything he did. He’d act like a devoted son, and for a time she’d be happy, until she found out he was stealing and pawning her jewelry again. Since Olivia had broken up with Charles six months ago she no longer had any responsibility to him or his mother, but somehow she kept getting dragged back into their drama.