Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 97151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“Of course they let me pay. We’re not living in the nineteen forties.” I roll my eyes.
“If I took you to dinner, you wouldn’t pay.”
My heart stops and my stomach flips, and I want to slide my hand into his and ask him to take me to dinner as soon as we’re back in New York.
“If we went to dinner, I wouldn’t offer,” I say in a whisper.
THIRTY-ONE
Ben
As Bray drives us from Boston to the land he wants to look at, I stare out of the window thinking about Avril. She seemed nervous in the helicopter and a little off at lunch. I wanted to ask her if she was okay. But I resisted. And it took everything I had to put her in the car to take her back to New York. It was so good to see her. I wanted to draw out our time together and hang out, but that’s not going to happen. I’m emotionally impotent and she’s focused on the Boston hotel. It’s easier in the long run to stay away from her. It’s what’s best.
Bray stops the rented SUV in front of large black iron gates. Either side is just trees and greenery. The gates seem a little over the top.
“Where are you taking me?” I say it as a joke, but by the end of the question, my mind flips to gambling and whether he’s involved with some dodgy stuff. Gambling brings visions of mobsters and heavies. Machine guns and drug dealing.
I glance across at him.
“No idea,” he says. “This is where the pin was dropped.”
The gates slide open and Bray shoots me a glance.
“I guess we’re going in.”
“It feels a little weird,” I say.
We make our way up a gravel track to an empty square lot surrounded by woodland on one side and a lake on the other. Is this a parking lot? Maybe it’s where the bodies are buried.
“Is this where you’re meant to be? There’s no one here.”
“I think—”
Bray doesn’t finish his sentence as another SUV comes up the gravel track toward us.
“Are you meeting the owner or a realtor?” I ask. I’m glad I’ve come today. This is the kind of place people could disappear.
“Both apparently.”
The car parks alongside ours and a woman in her fifties in a dark green pantsuit and glasses pushed back onto her head gets out, alongside a man in jeans and a plaid shirt.
“Good morning,” the woman says, beaming. “So good to be out in this early spring sunshine.”
We all greet each other. Turns out Kaya is the realtor, and Erick is her dad and the owner of the land we’re standing on.
“You don’t have a realtor yet?” Kaya asks.
“Not yet,” Bray replies. “Just got told about this piece of land that was up for sale and thought I’d come take a look.”
Kaya smiles. “We’re happy that you did. The plot runs all the way to the ocean in the east, includes this entire lake, and goes back here about three miles. It’s a total of just over twenty-two hundred acres of land.”
I don’t know much about much, but that sounds like a lot. Surely that kind of land around here would be expensive.
“I love that it goes all the way to the ocean,” Bray replies. “And you said you had some planning permits?”
Kaya nods. “That’s right. We’re standing on the footprint of the house that was going to be here.”
That makes sense now. Not a parking lot but foundations of a house.
“You were going to live here?” Bray asks Erick.
“I thought so. Before my wife died. She always wanted to live in the middle of nowhere with views of the water. I thought this was where we’d retire.”
“She died two summers ago,” Kaya says.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Bray says.
I can’t speak. He bought this for his wife and she never got to see it. It feels so inexplicably sad. I don’t know these people—I’ve never even met this man’s wife—and all I can think about is that he had a future planned out with her and never got to live it.
Panic rises in my stomach and I don’t know why. I take a deep breath in as I struggle to breathe, panic clawing at my throat. My heart is racing and adrenaline flows through my muscles. I get a sudden urge to run, to take action, to do something. It feels like the future is coming like a tidal wave and I’m not going to be able to escape.
“You okay?” Bray whispers.
I nod, my breathing labored. “Yeah. I’m fine.” I want to call my mum. Maybe I’ll arrange to go home. I could even go this weekend. “When’s the last time you spoke to Mum?”
“I call her every week like clockwork, but maybe I’ll give her a call tonight. Or on the way home from Boston.”