“Ready?” he asks.
“Yep,” I reply, and he leads me to the truck then helps me inside before jogging around the front and sliding in behind the wheel.
“How’s your mom?” he asks, cutting through the silence.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” I tuck some of my loose hair behind my ear. “She seems like herself. Her energy is a little lower, but I swear if I didn’t know she’s sick, I would assume this is all just a bad dream. I didn’t even know she was in pain until yesterday, when we went to the doctor. Her pain is a seven out of ten. That’s bad, and I had no idea. She acts like everything is fine,” I say then inhale a deep breath. I hadn’t been expecting to tell him all of that, but it felt right somehow, sharing with him what’s going on.
“I’m sorry, baby. I know this isn’t easy for you.” He reaches over, wrapping his hand around mine, his words and touch wrapping around me settling deep.
“I just hate that my mom is going through this.”
His hand gives mine another squeeze, but he doesn’t say anything. I want to ask him what happened with him and my mom, but I don’t think I can get the words out. It’s almost like deep down I don’t want to know why they seem to be so stand-offish with each other.
When we start heading towards the Manderville house, my heart starts to beat wildly in my chest, but then tappers off when we turn right onto a dirt road that leads closer to the water, where there are three small buildings attached side-by-side. When the truck comes to a stop, I take in the area. The buildings are up on a cliff that overlooks the sound and is surrounded by forest. I know I will never get to live in the Manderville house, but having an office here would be a close second.
“How much is he asking for it?”
“Six-hundred thousand.”
“Wow.”
“I know. He and his wife lived comfortably. She didn’t work, and they had three kids who all went out of state to college. It’s a lot of money, but this town has a lot of businesses and a lot of people who are looking for an accountant.”
“I have some money saved,” I say, turning my head to look out the window. I’m unsure about what the future holds, but the more I think about it, the more something deep inside me tells me to settle here to give this a real chance.
“Larry should be inside.” He releases my hand, which I didn’t even realize was still in his grasp but now that it’s gone I miss it. Once he’s out of the truck, I follow his lead, taking off my seatbelt and opening my door. I go to hop down and my hand slips from the bar, and I cry out as I fall forward, but then breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t feel the hard ground, but Austin’s arms wrapping around me.
“Thanks,” I mumble against his shirt.
“Don’t remember you being this klutzy before.”
My head tilts back to look at him. He’s so close that I can see even the small brown speckle in his left eye that stands out against the blue.
“I wasn’t…at least I don’t think I was,” I murmur. His gaze drops to my mouth as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and shift my weight, fighting myself from leaning up on my tiptoes.
“Well, are you coming in, or are you gonna stand out there all day?”
I peek around Austin and see an older gentleman wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, with his head poking out the door, looking at us with a smile on his face. Austin growls something under his breath then takes my hand and leads me to the open door.
“Larry, this is Lea. Lea—Larry,” Austin introduces us, releasing my hand and placing his at the small of my back.
Smiling, I reply, “Nice to meet you.”
“You too, doll, and I’m sorry about your mom.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly, and he nods then steps aside. Right then, I know—without even looking around—I want it. The space isn’t huge, but there’s a large floor-to-ceiling window that looks out over the sound. It’s not Manderville house, but it’s definitely gorgeous. I walk to the window, look out at the ocean, and smile, and then turn in a circle. The walls are all freshly painted, and there’s an open door to what I can see is a bathroom, then three large bookshelves that line one wall, along with two tall, metal filing cabinets.
“The shelves and cabinets stay with the space.”
“Are you selling outright, or have you thought about renting?”
“Selling, we’re moving to Florida. My old bones can’t take anymore Alaskan winters,” he replies.
“Have you had any offers?”
“Haven’t even put it on the market. I just finished painting a few days ago, and I’m putting in new floors this weekend,” he says, and I look down at the old, dingy carpet under my feet. “I got linoleum; figured its better stuff to handle all the water around here.”
“That’s good. What are the utilities like?”
“Around three hundred a month in the winter, close to nothing in the summer months.”
“Are you willing to negotiate on the price?”
“What are you talking?” He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, so I mimic his stance.
“Fifty thousand off, and you pay closing costs,” I tell him, and he looks at Austin and shakes his head.
“How soon can you close?” he asks.
“I just need to talk to the bank.”
“You get the loan, and you’ve got a deal, doll.”