The Secret of Poppyridge Cove Page 2

  Just imagine if it were new again.

  She couldn’t help but picture it. The house called to her. It seemed built just for her—the perfect balance of wilderness and escape, with enough luxury to satisfy even the pickiest customer… once it was refinished, of course. Abby’s enthusiasm intensified as she pictured individual apartments and guests pulling up to the private, ocean’s edge escape. Hundreds of lights and pine wreaths during the holiday season.

  And then it all crumbled away when she spotted the price. A number two… with six zeros behind it.

  “Two million dollars?” she blurted out.

  “What’s two million?” Emily asked. She stepped aside Abby and looked down at the magazine. “Oh,” she glanced up at Abby curiously.

  “Abby,” Chase’s voice chimed in, and although he hadn’t yet looked at the picture in the magazine, he seemed to know what it was. “Why does it matter how much it costs?” He glanced down at the page and back at her face. “You weren’t seriously…”

  He paused, stopping his thought and studying her instead. “Who knows what’s going on out there. Some of those animals were killed fairly recently. They hadn’t been dead that long.”

  Abby still gazed at the page. “Well, what if it is just some wild animal? Wolves have been seen in the redwoods before.”

  Chase didn’t look the least bit swayed, but he let it drop. “Well, even so, it would take twice what they’re asking just to fix up an abandoned shell like that.” His focus lifted from Abby to the man in line behind her. He was tall, able to see the page from where he stood, and obviously listening in on their conversation.

  “Very sorry to intrude,” the man said. He reached forward and tapped the picture. “But I thought you might be interested to know a bit about it. I’m a local realtor.”

  Abby didn’t care what anyone else wanted. She couldn’t believe her good fortune and nodded enthusiastically. To her, this was a very physical sign that her life was meant to be connected to this old mansion. Chills broke out on her arms.

  The man smiled. “Well, this house has been on the market for decades on and off. They can’t seem to find a buyer who will stick. But judging from your comments earlier, you’ve seen why.” He looked at every member of his small audience before continuing. “Even the neighbors stay clear of the property. But in my opinion, it’s the most picturesque home and prime location in all of California. Someone will buy it eventually, and they won’t run away.”

  “There are neighbors?” Abby asked. She shifted her weight from one foot to the next, anxious for the answer.

  The man nodded. “About half a mile down the coastline. Six or seven homes. I guess you could call them neighbors. They’re either retired and living quite well or large rental homes that mostly sit vacant. It’s a very prestigious area.”

  The line moved forward with Emily and Ryan turning from the conversation to study the breads together. Chase turned to the counter as well, but Abby whispered one more question.

  “Is the price firm?” She imagined if it could somehow be lowered just a touch, her and Chase could possibly… But the thought withered and died as quickly as it came. She hardly had a full-time income, and Chase, although his private therapy practice was very successful, had already made his disapproval known.

  “It is. Very firm,” the man answered. He was looking up at the displays of breads now, and Abby reluctantly turned to them as well. Chase was eyeing her but didn’t comment again about the house. Instead, he handed her a long loaf of sourdough wrapped in brown paper.

  She pulled a piece off the end. The crust crackled when she pinched it and a soft, fluffy interior released a tiny cloud of steam. “Mmm,” she murmured, chewing the fresh-from-the-oven sourdough and forgetting about anything else for a moment.

  Why was she pressing it, anyway? Two million was so far out of her budget it was laughable. And like Chase said, she would need at least double that to fix it up. She was worrying over nothing. Whatever dreams had burst from her out in the woods, they were only that. Dreams.

  Still, she rolled up the magazine and tucked it under one arm, entertaining the thought of buying a lottery ticket on the way home.

  After dropping off Emily and Ryan at their homes, where Ryan hugged Emily in parting, Chase parked in front of Abby’s apartment. From the outside, it looked like a modestly sized townhome, sandwiched between other similar builds in different shades of color. But the reality was she only called the top half home.

  Which meant it was tiny.

  Chase’s apartment, while only a couple blocks away, was considerably larger and surrounded by other professionals that boasted prestigious initials after their names. Initials like MD, DC, or DMD.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Abby said, brushing a kiss across his lips and reaching for the door. She was itching to read more about the house, even though she could see in Chase’s eyes that he wanted to talk to her. She hesitated, waiting for him to say whatever was brewing in his mind.

  “I understand how adventurous and opportune that house seems.” He shook his head, smiling. “It’s like a physical manifestation of your soul. I get that.”

  Abby loved the way he used words. But she could tell he wasn’t finished and was hesitant to hear what else was going on in that handsome head of his.

  “But in truth, Abby, I worry that this isn’t something we could ever reasonably finish. There’s always something new and shiny that looks better than what you have now… but it’s just not. You can’t live life always eager to drop what you have for something better.”

  And there it was. His assessment of her. He’d said we, but the truth was his therapist's side was digging deep into her problems and propensities. Abby felt an argument brewing in her chest, but she didn’t release it. Not yet.

  “I know I get distracted by ideas and new goals,” she began. “Nearly every day I come up with something I could start or learn, or start to learn. It’s a hard habit to kick, to try to force myself to just be content with my career. But really, I’m not. I’m not happy with my career—and it’s not a career. It’s a job!”

  “It’s a good job,” Chase argued.

  “Really?” Abby hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but it rose just the same. “Designing labels? You think I should be totally happy with that? Helping people select just the right peanut butter wasn’t really what I had in mind when I chose design.”

  “So look for a new job, then,” he said simply, hand lifted in the air like it was that easy.

  Abby crossed her arms in front of her, releasing a gust of breath. “It’s really nothing to argue about anyway,” she grumped. “It’s not like I have millions of dollars to spend.”

  Chase didn’t answer and looked nervously back at her, like he wasn’t sure how to continue.

  But what she hadn’t confessed was she’d already tried. She’d looked for a job—had been looking for a job. For months now, and there was nothing. Especially if she wanted to stay close to Chase, which she did, then it wasn’t even worth taking the time to look. Design was almost the number one major chosen in the area, and who wouldn’t want to start their design company in San Francisco?

  But if she could remodel a place like that, it would be the perfect portfolio on display for everyone to see. A designer retreat. And sure, it was a silly dream, but it struck a nerve with her that Chase would argue about something she couldn’t have, anyway. To not even be given the slightest hope of ever proving him wrong was infuriating.

  She glanced over at him, and her anger softened at the turn of his lips. She could see the apology written clearly in his eyes before he said it.

  “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I always rush to dampen that fire you have. I really do love you for it.” He chuckled. “I don’t know anyone else in the world who would see actual potential in that place.”

  Abby released all her pent-up anger in a single breath. “I know,” she breathed. “It’s so obviously a disaster. But honestly, I’ve n
ever felt like this.” She glanced at him as she continued cautiously sharing pieces of her heart. “I didn’t even realize I could love a house so deeply—like it was meant to be mine. It’s like I had no control over what I was feeling. If there was any way for me to buy it right this second, I would.”

  Chase studied her face, falling into a contemplative silence. Abby wasn’t sure if he was feeling motivated by her little confession, or if he was questioning his association with someone so clearly out of their mind. Either way, she couldn’t shake the thoughts that were still pulsing in her mind—in her heart. Somehow, she had to go see it again.

  Chapter 3

  The next morning, Abby ran the hills in her neighborhood, followed by a long, hot shower. The air in San Fran was always partially cold, even in the summer… and especially in the mornings. But she liked the chill, it was refreshing and brisk.

  She found an envelope in her mailbox, alongside a handful of junk mail and a magazine selling festive nuts, and slid a knife along the top of the rather thick paper. It was penned by hand, in letters that curled. Not only was there a letter, but official-looking documents. Abby narrowed her eyes, settling at the small card table that was her breakfast nook. She rubbed her wet hair with a towel one more time and began reading.

  Dearest niece,

  You don’t know me, but for a long time I’ve known you were the most like me of anyone in the family.

  “Huh.” Abby turned the letter over and read the name quickly. Sharalyn Ernest. She’d never heard the name Sharalyn before, but she recognized Ernest as her mother’s maiden name.

  Let me first introduce myself. I am your great-aunt, whom you’ve never met. I’ve been keeping a close eye on you since you were born. There are times when an old lady knows something of destiny, and you and I share a connection. You were born on a night that raged with storm and wind to parents that battled almost as fiercely. And yet, you were delicate and bright—kind beyond your understanding and indeed beyond your experience.

  Abby set the paper down with her eyes stinging. The memories of her parent's arguments lashed out at her, as if they’d happened that very day instead of years ago. It made her angry that this woman she’d never met would know such intimate things about her life, and in more detail than she’d ever shared with anyone, including those closest to her. Including Chase.

  With a hmph, she kept reading.

  I, too, was born into a family that was anything but loving. And yet, almost beyond my control, I have an intense love of life. A love of people. I see their contentment with the controlled cages they’ve built for themselves, and I wish they would understand what life is truly for. I wish they would know what it means to dream and achieve, for I have done both.

  Abby’s eyebrows rose, and she turned the page over to read the last few lines in disbelief.

  You are to be the steward of my estate when I pass, at which time this letter will be sent. I apologize deeply for never having met you, but when my body became frail and weak, it wasn’t the state I would have you remember. In this, I am too proud, but I’m sure you can understand a certain dignity in life. Just know that I will be watching you from heaven, anxious to see what magic you work with the resources you’ve now inherited.

  —I love you, Bee

  Abby gasped, dropping the page to the table as chills erupted like a rash on her skin. Her mind twisted and worked to put the pieces together, but it seemed impossible. Or perhaps an elaborate prank. Very elaborate. Bee? Only Chase had ever called her that. And if, indeed, this was some eccentric rich relative…

  She shook her head. No. There was no way. Things like this didn’t happen in real life. Besides, she was sure her mother would have mentioned a rich aunt, as much as she enjoyed draining the resources from everyone around her. Abby squeezed her eyes closed, pressing her hands to her face and stopping the anger before it could spread.

  Straightening in her seat, she flipped through the few additional pages. There was a small 3x5 picture of a woman who looked to be in her sixties. She was very dignified and proud, but her wide smile showed generous kindness. It fit perfectly with the letter. Abby swallowed and lifted the next page. It was of a beautiful brick building. England, it looked like. The sign in front said SOLD.

  The last page she stared at the longest, wondering just what type of sick person would go to such lengths for a trick. It was a bank statement, with a final balance well into nine figures. Abby swallowed, glancing at a name and phone number handwritten at the top, with directions to call and make arrangements. She swayed a little in her seat before finally remembering to breathe.

  “It’s not real,” she mumbled, standing and leaving the papers spread out across the table. “This is real.”

  She forced herself to critique her living space. The half-sized fridge that looked like it had been beaten with a baseball bat by its previous owner. The dingy kitchen that remained soiled and stained no matter how hard she scrubbed. The faucet that leaked even after Chase had replaced it with a newer model. Linoleum floors that were cracked and peeling up at the edges. Walls splattered with some unknown grease spots that refused to come off. This was reality. Her reality.

  It was with a spiteful resolve that she snatched up her cell phone and pushed the numbers. She’d let them have it. No one was going to weasel one cent out of her. The line rang only once, giving her hardly enough time to organize her thoughts when a mature voice answered.

  “Good morning, Blakney Law Offices,”

  “Oh,” she glanced down at the paper. “I was trying to reach, um, Mr. Thomas Blakney?”

  “And who’s calling, Miss?”

  “This is Abby Tanner.” She kicked herself for using her last name and imagined someone eagerly scribbling her information down, perhaps chortling an evil laugh at the same time. As she waited, her jaw set into a firm tilt.

  “Abigail!” The voice was enthralled, cheering her name through the line, like it was the reunion of a cherished friendship.

  Abby fidgeted with the paper, reading it again and feeling utterly baffled. Were they this good? “Yes,” she finally answered. “I received a letter today, and I need to speak with you about it. I don’t appreciate—”

  “My dear, I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting to meet you,” he continued with a hint of English accent that sounded very professional. “Your aunt spoke of you nearly ten years ago. I had a time trying to convince her to take the trip and see you, and sadly, in the end, she refused. A proud woman, but more generous than even her family knew.”

  He paused, and Abby stood with her mouth open, unsure of what was going on.

  “Now, I can only imagine the surprise that letter caused,” the man continued, “and the questions you must have. I’d love to meet with you as soon as possible—”

  “I know it’s a hoax!” she shouted, hearing the crazy in her voice. She needed to cool it. After a steadying breath, she tried again. The other end of the line had gone silent, and she was glad. The man only confused her.

  “I may be young, but don’t think I’m so foolish to believe I’ve just inherited 200 million dollars.” She laughed like a dry, shaky cord from a tone-deaf choir. “From some unknown, doting aunt. Right. I just called to tell you I’m going to report you and your law office. This is despicable and should be punished!”

  She pressed end before the man could answer, her hands shaking and throat so dry she could hardly swallow. Her forehead was perspiring. She brushed it with one arm while still holding the papers in one hand and her cell phone in the other. It was crazy. Delusional. And it made her angry that they might attempt to fool others too. Maybe some poor, unsuspecting, innocent person who would fall for it without question.

  She glared again at the papers and dialed the local police office.

  Chapter 4

  Chase had been thinking over their trip to the redwoods almost non-stop. To him, the house had been horrifying. A nightmare. Something he would visit on Halloween to frighten his litt
le brother. Add in the mutilated animals, and it was grounds for a proper horror film.

  But when he’d seen how completely lost Abigail had been in the idea of owning it, he’d genuinely tried seeing it from her angle. Her completely awestruck face. He’d known her for nearly five years, and he’d never seen her so passionate about anything before. Even her career was merely something she pursued because she naturally did well in design. It was second nature for her to piece things together beautifully.

  So maybe I should trust her and the inner potential she sees in the place.

  He grimaced. It was a hard thought to swallow.

  Walking from his office to her apartment, he hoped to have a more encouraging conversation than the day before. Having been left with a couple of hours of free time—after his second patient of the morning canceled—he wanted to surprise her.

  He rang the doorbell and listened to the melody of chimes inside. It made him laugh. Something like that would drive him crazy. Just a simple ding-dong would suffice. But it fit her. Always making things better and more beautiful than the standard.

  When he was left standing longer than usual, he leaned to the side and peered through the adjacent window. The glass was warped, but he caught her blurred silhouette walking forward slowly. Very slowly.

  Finally, the door opened, and she stood there with her phone still pressed to her ear. “You’re absolutely sure about this? The company has been looked into?” Her eyes looked somewhat glazed, and her hair hung damp at her shoulders from a recent shower.

  Chase inched forward, but Abby still stood square in the doorway and didn’t seem to notice. Her mouth was hanging open a bit. Chase tried to listen to the deep voice on the other end of the line, but it was too quiet.