Page 30 of The Guest Cottage
Finally, she said, “Hardship,” as if that summed up a dozen different things.
And maybe it did. “The Marines taught me that you can take adversity and make it work for you. Losing my mother when she was finally happy—that was a blow, no way around it. I’m here, though, with all these people who knew her well and cared for her. The people who gave her life meaning. That counts for a lot.”
“I think you gave her life meaning.” Before he could find a single word to say, Marlow continued. “She lived for you, doing what she could to make your life better. When you were old enough, you did the same for her. Young people put in your situation often make a lot of bad choices. You joined the Marines. You brought your mother here and helped her to start that happy life. Now you stay here because these people care for you.”
Her eyes went shiny, as if she might cry, but instead she smiled.
Cort wasn’t sure what to say or do.
“Like I said, you fascinate me.”
They were still staring at each other, thoughts, emotions, and possibilities arcing between them.
Until the buzzing of her phone disturbed the moment.
She glanced at the counter. “Sorry. Let me make sure that isn’t Herman.”
Cort tracked her as she stood and lifted the phone. That’s when he saw her unopened mail. The packet was on the bottom, still sealed.
Groaning, she said, “It’s my mother-in-law.”
“She calls often?”
“Yes.” With the press of a button, she silenced the phone. “She hasn’t given up on the idea of my returning to the family business, only it’s not my family. Not anymore.” Grabbing up his thermos, she refilled her cup and then his.
Which told him she wasn’t ready for him to leave yet. Fine by him. “You haven’t opened your mail.”
“I know.” A wan smile gave away her thoughts. “Sandra said it’s some of Dylan’s things. I’m rarely a coward, I swear, but this time, I’m not sure I want to know what it is.”
“Dreading something is usually worse than facing it.” That had been true of his father. As a kid, he’d feared the man’s rages. Then when he was big enough, when he’d grown brave enough to fight back, instead of feeling dread, he’d been empowered. “Might be easier to get it over with.”
Lifting her chin, she said, “You know what? You’re right.” She stretched out an arm and snagged all the mail, bringing it to the table, and adding the new mail he’d brought along that morning to the top of the stack. “This, at least, looks interesting.”
He’d noticed it was from a bank when he’d received it at the post office. He watched her carefully tear the envelope open, scan a few pages, and then smile.
“The sale of my house was finalized with a remote closing.” She waved the paper. “I’m not going back, and I’d still like to pay you in advance. What do you say?”
“I’d say that you fascinate me as well.”
She beamed at him. “I’m going to choose to take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” He nudged the rest of the mail at her. “Would you rather do that in private?”
“Nope.” She tore open the next piece of mail, then another. When the stack dwindled, she had two neat piles—one she threw in the trash, and the other she set on the counter.
All that was left was the packet.
Drawing a bracing breath, she opened it and pulled out several documents. As her gaze went over one paper, she started to frown. By the third paper, livid color slashed her cheeks and her lips were compressed.
Cort couldn’t imagine what she’d received, but he could see how it affected her. “Marlow?” he said quietly.
She jumped as if she’d forgotten about him, her gaze clashing with his.
“One thing at a time,” Cort said. “Whatever it is, you’ve got this.”
Giving a firm nod, she said, “I do. It’s just . . . it doesn’t end.”
Keeping his tone gentle, he asked, “What doesn’t?”
