Chapter Thirteen
WHEN Eden saw Brad, she again marveled at how comfortable she felt with him. She wondered if it was because he was part of the Arundel family that Mrs. Farrington had been part of. For all that Brad was, more or less, a stranger, she felt as though she’d known him forever. Mrs. Farrington said that when you met the man, THE man, you started planning your wedding dress. So far in her life, every time Eden had dated a man for more than three months, she started planning how she was going to let him down easily. Never in her life had she been dropped by a man, but she’d had to tell several of them that it was over between them.
But Brad was different, and she knew it—and so did he. When he saw her, his face lit up. Like a child at Christmas. Like she was a gift that he’d wanted all his life. We’ve had similar bad experiences, she thought, and we’ve never come close to finding that Great Love.
Brad hurried forward, took both her hands in his, and kissed her cheeks. He looked like he wanted to do more, but instead he just stood there, holding her hands and looking into her eyes.
“I hate to break this up,” Jared said from behind them, “but the architect is waggling at you.”
“Waggling?” Brad said, smiling at the old-fashioned word. Still holding Eden’s hands, he turned to Drake Haughton, who looked exaggeratedly at his watch. “Sorry,” Brad said to Eden, “but I’m on a strict timetable today. We have some buyers flying in from New York later this afternoon, and I have to be back here to meet with them. Shall we go?”
Eden followed Brad to his car, and after a look at Jared, he seemed resigned to his presence. As Brad held the door open for her, he said quietly, “I see Mother Superior is well.” Eden giggled.
Eden thought she was to meet with clients, but Brad told her that the meetings would start tomorrow. “Today I’m going to show you everything. You can’t go into a meeting without having seen the place.”
“Of course not,” she said, glad to be with him. If McBride weren’t in the backseat, everything would have been perfect. Well, actually, perfect would mean that she wasn’t being investigated by the FBI, and people weren’t breaking into her house and filling it with poisonous snakes, and—
“Are you okay?” Brad asked, glancing away from the road to look at her.
“Fine. Just a little nervous about suddenly becoming a landscape designer. I spent the morning going over my gardening books and making a lot of notes. I hope people like the idea of these gardens. They’re not what most people want.”
“Something I’ve found out in this business is that people love restrictions. Covenants put on property make them feel safe. The guy next door can’t park a boat in front of his house. They like that kind of thing. And I think they’ll like the idea of everyone having to make gardens that aren’t like the rest of the U.S.”
“I hope so.”
“You look nice. What did you do to make yourself look even better than you did yesterday?”
“She took a bath and put big yellow curlers in her hair,” Jared said from the backseat, reminding them of his presence. “Eden wanted to ask you about a house you own.”
Eden wanted to pinch McBride. She would have come to the house in time. Why did he have to rush things? And why did he have to remind Brad that they were living in the same house?
Brad looked at her questioningly.
“The overseer’s house down the road. I, uh…”
“Her daughter is thinking of moving here to Arundel, so Eden thought she might like that house. I called a Realtor, and imagine our surprise to find out that you own it.”
Twisting in her seat, Eden glanced at McBride in disgust. What was inside of him that he could lie so easily?
“You’ll have to fight Minnie for the place,” Brad said. “She wants it very much, but I won’t let her have it.”
“Why not?” Eden asked.
“Maybe I should tell you now so you don’t learn it from gossip, but I am utterly selfish. I won’t let Minnie move into that house because I hate living alone. It’s that simple. She hates my big old house and wants out of it, but if she and her daughter moved…” Trailing off, he shrugged at Eden. “I guess I should let her have the place, but Drake, my assistant, also wants it. I owe Drake’s father and…” He trailed off.
Brad’s eyes met Eden’s, and she wondered if he was saying that he now hoped he was going to have a different person to live with. She had to look away from him so he wouldn’t see what was in her eyes. She too hated living alone. The year that Melissa had been in New York and Eden had lived by herself had been the worst year of her life. Even now, although she’d never tell him so, she was glad McBride was in the house with her.
“How long has the house been empty?” Jared asked.
“Six weeks, I guess it is now,” Brad said as he stopped the car.
Eden had been so intent on Brad that she hadn’t looked outside the car. Now she saw that they were on a pretty, tree-lined street. Again, she saw that old-growth trees had been saved. Peeping through the trees and around the gently curving street, she could see houses that were all eighteenth century in design. Well-proportioned, simple rectangles, with beautiful, paned windows, she thought. No fancy, curved porches, no gingerbread trim, no witches’ hat roofs. Nothing Victorian, and nothing modern anywhere.
“My goodness,” she said. “They could all have been modeled after my house.” And for the first time, Eden fully realized that Farrington Manor was her house.
“We were trying for perfection,” Brad said, smiling at her as he got out of the car, then went around to open the door for her. “The owners of this house haven’t moved in yet, so I thought we’d look around at the outside and you could see what you have to work with. Most of the lots are the same size.”
“That’s exactly what I need,” she said, then turned to Jared. “How about if you take photos of everything?”
“I’ll do my job if you do yours,” Jared said pointedly.
Eden knew what he meant, and she nodded. In the next minute he walked around the back of the house and left her alone with Brad. Alone with Brad, she thought as she turned to look at him. Alone. From the look in his eyes, he was thinking the same thing.
“Too bad we don’t have a key to the house.”
His statement was so like a teenager’s that she laughed.
He took her arm and walked her across the street. “Come on, I know a place where he can’t find us.”
“I doubt that,” she said as they went across the street, through the side yard of another house, then through a gate to the back. It was a typical American backyard, with a couple of skinny new trees and about an acre of grass. Come summer, no one would step outdoors because they’d sizzle in the heat.
“Eden,” Brad said, then started to pull her into his arms.
But she pulled away from him. She had no doubt in the world that at least one and maybe two FBI binoculars were on them now. She didn’t relish having photos of her and Brad shown to McBride—or to anyone else, for that matter. “I…” she began. She couldn’t think of a reason for not letting him kiss her.
“Right,” he said, smiling. “Too public.” He let go of her hand and gestured to the huge expanse of grass. “Think you can do something with this?”
That he was so understanding made her like him more. “Oh, yes. By the way, I wanted to ask you if there was a good nursery near here. I’m going to need a lot of plants.”
“Raleigh. We have trucks you can use.”
For a moment she looked about her and tried to think how to bring up the subject of the house.
“Is your daughter really thinking of moving to Arundel?”
“It’s more that I’m wanting her to move here. You and I have something in common in that we bear little love for our sons-in-law.”
“Don’t get me started. Did Minnie tell you—”
She didn’t want him to go in that direction. “You don’t have a renter for the overseer’s house? Or are you going to let Minnie or Drake have it?”
He looked at her for a moment. “No, I don’t have a renter, and I own three other houses, any of which Minnie would like.” He started walking toward the back fence, Eden beside him. “Did Minnie tell you what happened to the last tenant?”
“No, she didn’t mention it.”
“I can’t believe she left out any gossip,” he said as he opened the gate for her and they stepped out onto a service road. Right away, Eden liked the layout of the place. Instead of having the garages opening at the front of the house—and let’s face it, a huge, blank garage door was ugly—the garages faced the back, and residents entered through small service roads that ran behind the houses. “I like this,” she said, waving her hand. “So what gossip did Minnie leave out?”
“I rented the house to a woman who was a retired schoolteacher. She showed me some watercolors that I think she painted, but she was too shy to say so. They were nice but not great. She said she was interested in the old houses in this area. She was especially interested in Farrington Manor.”
“You sound sad. What happened?”
“She was killed in a hit-and-run. It was a shock to the whole town. Her relatives came to claim the body, and…” He shrugged, not knowing what else to say.
“What happened to the woman’s effects?”
Brad looked at her sharply.
Eden had to think fast. “Okay, so you caught me. I love watercolors and I thought that maybe she’d done a portrait of my house.”
“Tyrrell Farrington’s portraits aren’t enough for you?”
“Puh-lease.”
Brad smiled. “I could call and ask her family. I have the address and phone number her uncle gave me somewhere. When he came to get her body, he told me that if I heard anything about what happened to her, he’d like to know about it.”
“A hit-and-run. That’s so…cowardly. No one saw anything?”
“Nothing. The police think she was hit at about two in the morning. I can’t imagine what she was doing walking on the roads at that time of night. Didn’t she read the papers? Watch the news?”
“Where did it happen?”
Brad sighed, and she could tell that he was reluctant to answer her. “In front of your house. The police figured that someone was coming over the bridge, turned the curve too sharply, probably on the wrong side of the road, and there she was. You don’t expect someone to be walking along the side of the road at two o’clock in the morning, so you get a bit lax.”
“Not to mention drunk.”
“Probably,” Brad said. “It was all such a waste. Her uncle was pretty upset about her death. He looked like he wanted to hurt someone.”
Eden wanted to stop asking questions, but she thought of what was becoming her secret life with the FBI and she continued. “Would you mind giving me the name and number that man gave you? I think I’ll call him and see if she did a watercolor of my house.”
For a moment, Brad just blinked at her.
“Is that too ghoulish of me?”
“No, actually, I think that’s kind of you, and I think they might like that, but I just remembered something. I think Hank Smiley at the frame shop—you know, that room off the hardware store on Prince Street? I think he might have some of her watercolors. I forgot all about that. I was in there one day not long after she was found, buying some frames for photos of my grandson, and—”
“I can hardly wait to do that,” Eden said, smiling.
“Grandkids are better than you can imagine. Anyway, Hank said something to me about pictures some woman had left in the store and he didn’t know what to do with them. I was in a rush that day so I didn’t pay much attention to him. I remember wondering why he was telling me about pictures left by some woman. I thought maybe he wanted my services as a lawyer to get his money for the framing job.”
“But maybe he told you because the woman had been renting a house from you.”
“Right. I bet her family would like to have those pictures.”
“Would you mind if I went to the frame shop and asked about them? Maybe I could have Mr. Smiley call your office for verification of who I am.”
“He knows.”
“Of course,” Eden said, half glad that people knew of her, and half annoyed.
For several moments Brad said nothing, just stared up at the house in front of them (brick with a wing with huge windows). Then he sighed, as though he had decided something. “So what’s up with you and McBride?”
“He’s my—” she began but broke off at the look on Brad’s face.
“I’ve been a lawyer a long time and I know when someone’s lying. He’s good at it; you’re not.”
She took a deep breath. “How angry would you be if I told you that I can’t tell you?”
“I’m flattered that you think I have the right to be angry, but the answer is, Not at all. Something’s very wrong in your life, isn’t it?”
Eden couldn’t think what to say, and besides, she wasn’t sure that she wasn’t being taped.
“Does it have something to do with the woman who was killed?”
Eden looked down at her hands in answer.
“Long ago, I learned the true meaning of that old cliché, that anything worth having is worth waiting for. Whatever is to happen between us can wait until you’ve solved what you need to in your life. Are those watercolors important to you?” Brad asked.
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “I have a meeting in just a few minutes, and Drake and I have to be there, but afterward I’ll go get that poor woman’s watercolors—if that’s what Hank has—and I’ll take them out to your house.”
“Couldn’t Drake handle the meeting alone?”
“Not quite,” he said quickly, “but don’t get me started on that. The things we do for old friends, right?”
Smiling, she nodded.
“We’ll have dinner together tonight at your house, if I can invite myself, that is.”
“McBride will be there,” Eden said heavily. His strong hands on her shoulders made her feel like falling forward and putting her face against his chest. He was so strongly built and looked so warm.
“Don’t break down on me,” Brad said, dipping his head down to look into her eyes. “Whatever is wrong, we’ll fix it. Okay? Will you trust me?”
All she could do was nod. She’d held up so well since she’d been told that the FBI was investigating her, but now she wanted to collapse against Brad and turn everything over to him. A taken-care-of woman, she thought. A luxury she’d never had.
Brad slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to him. “Come on, let’s go back to the car. I’m sure McBride is hysterical by now, since you’ve been out of his sight for a whole fifteen minutes.”
In spite of herself, Eden smiled and Brad tightened his grip on her.
“I just want to know one thing. Is he protecting you? Is that why he’s always with you?”
She nodded. “But I can’t—”
“I know. I mean, I don’t know, but I sense that something is wrong. Ever since the first time I met him in the hospital, I’ve thought that there was something not right about him.”
“That’s just what he says about you.”
“Does he? Well, at least I don’t sneak around women’s houses with a flashlight and try to make people think I was looking for a circuit box.”
Eden stopped walking and looked at him in astonishment.
“Yeah, I knew,” Brad said. “And I think the sheriff knew too, but he said he believed McBride. I played along with him. I was hoping that you’d come to trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.”
“I really can’t.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll find out. I’m a lawyer, remember? I always find out the truth. And I keep to myself what I find out. I could tell you some truly ugly secrets about people in this town.”
Eden lifted her head. “Such as?”
“Any secrets I tell you, you’re going to have to kiss out of me.”
“No, no, not that! Anything but that!”
Brad laughed, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, but she looked up and there was McBride coming across the street, and he looked furious.
“Tonight,” Brad whispered. “I’ll be there at seven with wine, flowers, and chocolate cake. The rest is up to you.”
He pulled his arm from around her and went forward to meet Jared McBride.