Page 33 of The Guest Cottage
Her mouth opened and closed, and she angled her chin. “I’m staying.”
Satisfaction burned through his bloodstream. “There you go.” Another special moment, one of many that were starting to add up, at least by Cort’s count.
He was pretty sure they’d just taken a step past friendship and into the realm of something far more intimate. That suited him just fine.
“So all those papers you received. What are you supposed to do with them?”
“I’m assuming the apartment and car were for the woman he was seeing, only with him gone, the bills haven’t been paid.”
Incredulous, Cort asked, “Andyou’resupposed to pay them?”
“Or at least settle the accounts. I got multiple death certificates so I could respond to situations like these. Well, not exactly like these, but for bills I expected.” She fanned out the papers. “The car, apparently, was repossessed, but with money owed. The apartment has been abandoned, yet the lease wasn’t canceled. The credit card is maxed out. As his wife at the time of his death, I have access to his accounts.”
“Your mother-in-law sent those to you?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s wealthy?”
“Very.”
It was manipulation of the worst kind. “She claims to want you back at the company?”
“Family business and all that. I know what you’re going to say. It doesn’t add up. It’s an insult for her to send these bills to me, especially while she’s pretending her son was perfect and all the blame belongs on Pixie Nolan.”
Cort went still. “You know her?”
“I’ve seen pictures.” Again, she wrinkled her nose. “It came up in the divorce, and at that point, Dylan was more into bragging than discretion. I almost felt sorry for his lawyer, except that he was a sanctimonious jerk, too.” She paused, frowned some more, then smirked. “Of course, I imagine all women feel that way when facing an unfaithful husband and the person defending him.”
“You’d have to be a saint not to.”
“And I’m far from sainthood, believe me.” She gave him a grim smile. “Ms. Nolan worked in one of the company’s warehouses at a different location, one I never had reason to visit, but apparently Dylan did. Or maybe he met her through someone else. I don’t know, or want, the particulars.” Indicating the papers, she said, “I’m guessing Sandra sent the stuff to me because she wants me to see Ms. Nolan as the villain. Sandra hates her, and she likely wants me to hate her, too.”
Cort searched her face, but he saw no hatred. He wasn’t sure such a negative emotion was even in Marlow’s DNA. “You don’t hate her?”
“I don’t want to be her friend or anything, but why should I hate her? Dylan was the one who cheated on me. If it hadn’t been Ms. Nolan, it probably would have been someone else. Seems to me that Dylan used her, too.”
That was such a kind, generous attitude, Cort was certain he lost a piece of his heart to her right then and there.
“I know,” she said. “You think I’m foolish.”
“I think you’re . . . astonishing. Beautiful. Wise. And you have great hair.”
She laughed.
“You fit here in Bramble, Marlow. Perfectly.”
A bright smile lit up her dark eyes, making them even prettier. “Thank you. That is, by far, the nicest compliment yet.”
CHAPTER5
During the following week, Marlow discovered several things about herself.
First, she no longer quailed at the sight of a fish being caught. Cort wasn’t unnecessarily cruel, and he ate whatever he kept.
Second, her arms, actually her entire body, were now nicely toned by the physical activity at the tavern. She liked the way she looked, even with the extra pounds she’d put on at the end of her marriage.
Third, braids were amazing. Simple, sometimes elegant and other times messy, always comfortable, far more so than a tight ponytail or topknot. While watching an online how-to video, she learned to make several different types of braids, and they were now her favorite go-to casual hair style.
