The Billionaire Next Door

Curt Sherbrooke watched the real estate agent pull into the driveway behind his SUV. He’d worked with Peter Marcus in the past, and the man usually did a great job of finding just what he was looking for. He didn’t expect this time to be any different.

“Nice to see you again,” Peter said when he reached Curt. “I hope you didn’t have too much trouble finding this place.”

The rotaries in the center of town had confused his GPS. As a result, he’d gotten an unplanned tour of Pelham, New Hampshire. So far, he liked what he saw. The town appeared large enough for him to blend in and hopefully not draw too much attention to himself. At the same time, it wasn’t so big it lost the essence of the traditional New England small town. It would be the perfect place to relax and work on his novel, while doing something he enjoyed.

“I got a little redirected along the way, but I managed. What did you find for me, Peter?” Curt checked out the house and grounds around him.

Peter opened the folder he held and pulled out a packet of papers. “This tells you all about the house and the town.” He handed the packet to Curt. “I’ll give you the basics for now. Originally, the house and the surrounding hundred acres belonged to the Draper family. They owned the quarry across the state line, in Dracut. The home stayed in the Draper family until the late 1940s. It’s been sold twice since then. Thirty years ago, the current owners started selling off parcels of land, and many of houses you passed on the street were built. The last part of the original estate, the old groundskeeper’s cottage, was sold twenty-five years ago. It’s set way back, so you can’t see it from the road. You would’ve passed its driveway on your way here. Today, the house comes with eight acres. The original stables remain on the property. The carriage house was converted into a three-car garage at some point, and there’s a full apartment located above. The home has a heated in-ground pool and there’s also a man-made pond on the property.”

They walked up the cobblestone walkway. It, much like the exterior of the house, had seen better days. But Curt had expected as much. He had told Peter he was again in the market for a fixer-upper. If the exterior of the home was any indication, that was exactly what Peter had found him.

“According to the listing agent, the house needs a new heating system. What’s in there right now works, but it’s not efficient. You’d want to have something new installed before the winter. And there is no central air. A new roof was put on four years ago. Other than that, not much has been done here in a long time. The house has been empty for over two years.” Peter retrieved the key from the lock box on the front door. “The listing agent is a friend of the owners. She told me the couple moved into an assisted living facility. None of their children want the old house, and at this point the couple needs the money from the sale to cover their expenses at the facility.”

The hinges on the front door groaned when Peter opened it, and Curt stepped inside. The large wood-paneled foyer reminded him a bit of his grandparents’ home. A faded mural covered the vaulted ceiling, and an antique chandelier with several bulbs out provided less than adequate light. An ornate stained-glass window filled the space above the front door, allowing in sunlight. Matching stained-glass panels flanked the door. A curving master staircase led up to the second floor, and two hallways stretched out to other parts of the home.

“The first floor contains the typical rooms you’d expect. There’s also a ballroom located at the back of the house. Evidently, the Drapers liked to entertain when they lived here. Upstairs you’ll find six bedrooms, as well as his and hers private offices and a billiard room. There’s an elevator that goes between the first and second floors, however, it doesn’t work. The listing agent isn’t sure what is wrong with it.”

“Let’s look around,” Curt said. From here he liked what he saw, but before he made a decision, he needed to see the rest of the house.

He went from room to room on the first floor, each one appearing to need more work than the one before it. Thankfully, it appeared much of it was cosmetic. There were no gaping holes in the ceilings or floors. All the windows looked old, but capable of keeping out the elements as well as any unwanted critters looking for a place to live. Even the kitchen appeared useable, if outdated. Nothing appeared to be a deal breaker.

Curt and Peter stopped in the ballroom last before heading upstairs. Much like in the foyer, a faded mural covered the ceiling. Old gilded mirrors hung around the room, and the wall above the fireplace was discolored, as if something had hung there for a long time before being taken down. Several well-worn area rugs covered the floor, making it difficult to gauge the condition of the floor underneath. Two full-size beds and two chests of drawers remained in the room, and Curt assumed the elderly couple had been using this as their bedroom rather than go up and down the stairs. Several sets of french doors still in remarkably good condition filled the exterior wall. Through the glass, Curt saw the large veranda. A patio table and chairs remained there, the table umbrella pitched at an odd angle and turned inside out. Everything he’d seen up until now suggested neither the family nor the listing agent had done much to improve the possibility the place would be sold. Honestly, it didn’t matter much to him. He didn’t want another magazine-worthy home. He already had several of those. No, he wanted a quiet place he could work on. A place he could bring back to life.

He’d gotten the bug to renovate homes five years ago. Laid up after a skiing accident, he’d gotten addicted to the home renovation shows on television. When he got back on his feet, he took several classes on carpentry and basic plumbing. He’d tackled his first project about three years ago, a small cottage in upstate New York. He’d picked it because the place hadn’t needed much work, and he’d finished it in three months. Since then he’d purchased and worked on two other projects. Each had required more and more work. While there were still things he had to hire others to do, such as electrical work, he believed his own skills had vastly improved since the cottage in New York. He’d completed his most recent endeavor, a place in Marlborough, back in the fall, and was ready for a new challenge.

“Ready to head upstairs?” Peter asked, already back in the hallway.

Curt took one last look around the ballroom before nodding. At one time, the room must have been gorgeous. With some effort, it could be again. “Right behind you.”

Much like the rooms below, occasional pieces of furniture lingered in the upstairs rooms, giving Curt the impression that family members had picked though what they wanted and left the rest behind for someone else to deal with. Dust and cobwebs filled each room, and again Curt wondered how the listing agent hoped to find a buyer given the condition of the house. Most people would take one look and walk right back out.

Structurally, the home appeared sound upstairs, too. A dark spot on a bedroom ceiling hinted at a leak, but it seemed contained to the one room. Since Peter had mentioned a new roof had been put on recently, Curt guessed the spot might have formed prior to then. Other than installing all new windows, and updating the electrical, Curt didn’t see anything he either couldn’t or wouldn’t at least try handling himself anywhere in the house.

“There are a few rooms in the attic. I’m told the maids and the cook originally used them when the house belonged to the Draper family. Do you want to take a look?” Peter asked. They’d completed their tour of the entire second floor and stood near the staircase to the topmost level.

“No need. I’ve seen enough.” Regardless of what he saw up on the third floor, he wouldn’t change his mind. “I’m ready to make an offer. What’s the asking price again?” Peter had given him the information over the phone, but he hadn’t paid much attention to that particular detail.

Peter opened the folder he held before rattling off a figure.

“Sounds good. Let’s go back to your office and do up the paperwork.”

“You don’t want to offer less? This house has a lot of potential, but it also needs a lot of work.”

Curt had no idea what it cost for assisted living, but if what Peter told him was correct, the couple needed the money. Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t have it. “I see no reason to waste time negotiating a figure. I’ll offer the full asking price. Hopefully, we can get the sale done quickly. I’m eager to get started.”

Rather than go straight back to Boston after leaving Peter’s office, he headed to his aunt and uncle’s house so he could wish Aunt Marilyn a happy birthday. The call from his real estate agent confirming the owners had accepted his offer came as he turned in to Aunt Marilyn’s driveway. According to Peter, the owners were just as eager to get the sale finalized, and the closing should happen within the month.

Curt parked next to two other cars. One had New York plates; he guessed his cousin Scott had driven up for a visit. The other had Rhode Island plates, so it could belong to any number of his relatives.

When he rang the doorbell, Scott answered, confirming Curt’s original assumption. He held his nine-month-old son, Cooper, in his arms, and Curt noticed right away how much the baby had grown since he’d last seen him at Christmastime.

“Paige and Courtney are in the living room with my mom. I’ll be back. Cooper needs a change,” Scott said, referring to his girlfriend and younger sister.

“Better you than me,” Curt said, slapping his cousin on the shoulder.

“Just wait. Your day will come, my friend.” Scott carried his son upstairs, leaving Curt alone.

Curt didn’t doubt it. When it came to marriage and having children, his cousins had been succumbing at an alarming rate. It’d started with his cousin Callie about three years ago and had continued steadily ever since. The most recent to tie the knot had been his cousin Derek. His cousin Gray’s wedding was right around the corner. Curt guessed Scott and Paige would soon follow. While Scott hadn’t asked Paige to marry him yet, she’d moved in with him the month before.

When Curt entered the room, the conversation paused, and all eyes focused on him. “Happy birthday, Aunt Marilyn,” he said before greeting anyone else. He made his way through the minefield of baby toys on the floor so he could give her a hug.

Aunt Marilyn kissed his cheek and returned the embrace. “I’m so glad you stopped by. Scott’s upstairs with Cooper. He’ll be back in a minute.”

“Yeah, I saw him. He let me in.”

“Can you stay for dinner?” Aunt Marilyn asked. “Harrison isn’t home yet, and he’ll be disappointed if he misses you.”

He had no place to be, and he wouldn’t mind seeing his uncle today. He hadn’t seen the man in several months. “Definitely.”

Aunt Marilyn patted his knee and smiled. “Excellent. Judith said you’ve been house hunting again. Any luck?”

He’d never told Mom he was looking for a new project. It just hadn’t come up during their last conversation. But he’d mentioned it to Dad. It’d been during the same conversation that he’d told the man he’d decided to leave his position at Nichols Investment in Boston. News his dad hadn’t taken well.

“I made an offer on a place today. The closing should be soon.”

“Where’s this one?” Courtney, Curt’s younger cousin, asked.

“New Hampshire… not far from the Massachusetts line.”

“Why would you move all the way up there? Driving in and out of Boston when you want to work on it will be a pain the butt,” Courtney said. “Couldn’t you find anything closer?”

“I don’t need to be in the city anymore. Friday was my last day at Nichols, so I’m going to live in this house while I do the renovations.”

Scott walked in as Curt spoke. “You left the firm?” He set his son down amongst the toys. Cooper immediately crawled over to a stuffed dolphin and grabbed it. “I thought Burke was grooming you to take over his spot someday. Where are you working now?”

Jim Burke, the current CEO of Nichols Investment, had been disappointed when Curt delivered the news. He’d offered him countless incentives to get him to stay. None had swayed him, though. He’d made up his mind. He, as well as the ulcer in his stomach, had had enough of the financial world and all the stress that went with it.

“Nowhere. At least for the foreseeable future, I’m going to work on the house I’m buying and finish my next novel.”

“Next novel?” Courtney asked, pulling her attention away from her nephew. She’d moved from the couch to the floor to be with Cooper, and once he’d gotten the toy he’d wanted, he’d crawled into his aunt’s lap.

Curt cringed.

“You still haven’t told everyone?” Scott asked, noticing his expression.

“Tell everyone what?” Courtney demanded.

She was the only one in the room who didn’t know that truth. When his first book came out and hit all the major lists, he’d shared the news with Scott as well as a few other members of the family. He’d written the novel under a pen name, and he worried that if too many people knew, his true identity would come out.

He’d have to add one more name to the list of people who knew about his alter ego. “About a year ago, a book I wrote came out. It did well and my agent got me a deal for another four. I’m almost finished with the second.”

“How did I miss this?” Courtney asked.

“I used a pen name. When I submitted the manuscript, not even the agent knew my real name.” When his agent had learned the truth, she’d been speechless.

Courtney blinked several times, and he suspected he knew the question headed his way. “Why did you do that?”

“Why do you think, genius?” Calling his cousin a genius wasn’t far from the truth. Courtney Belmont was perhaps the most intelligent person he knew. She had an IQ of 154 and had completed high school two years early, then gone on to graduate from both Harvard and Yale in record time. Despite all her intelligence, sometimes she missed the most obvious… like now.

“I wanted the book published because it was good, not because of who I am. And I definitely didn’t want people buying it because the name Sherbrooke was on the front cover.”

Courtney rolled her eyes at him. “I assumed as much. But it’ll get out. You know it will. Someone who knows, either at the publishing house or maybe even your agent, will let it slip. Why bother wasting the time to keep it a secret, especially now if the book is out and people like it?”

He recognized that what Courtney said was very possible. Still, he preferred to keep the truth under wraps for as long as he could.

“People didn’t just like it, Courtney. Curt’s book hit all the major lists. Our dear cousin is a fantastic writer. I’m looking forward to his next one,” Scott said, joining the conversation.

“You and my publisher. She expects the manuscript no later than August tenth.”

On the floor, Courtney accepted the stuffed dolphin Cooper handed her. “Guess I’d better get your first book. What name did you use?”

“C.S. Hilton.” He’d struggled with a good pen name. Finally, he’d opted to go with his initials and his mother’s maiden name.

“That’s you?” Courtney sounded amazed. “I couldn’t put Fatal Deception down. I finished it in two nights.”

“Neither could I,” Aunt Marilyn chimed in. She’d already known about his secret career. His mom had told her not long after the book was released. “And I can’t wait for the next one. Even your uncle enjoyed it, and you know he never reads fiction.”

“You shouldn’t have to wait too much longer. For the next few months all I plan on doing is writing and working on the new house.” And the town of Pelham, New Hampshire, would be the perfect place. He’d be away from all major distractions. And if people did eventually realize who he was, hopefully it wouldn’t be until he finished the renovations and was ready to move on.

Exhausted, Taylor Walker popped open the trunk and pulled out the bag containing her body armor. She’d left the house before the sun came up. Coffee and sugar had kept her going much of the day, but she’d passed the point where either would do any more good. As a DEA agent in Boston, working crazy hours wasn’t anything new or unusual. Unfortunately, it would take her body a couple days to feel normal again. Every once in a while, she wondered why she’d left the Boston Police Department and gone to work for the Drug Enforcement Agency instead. Then she’d be part of a successful bust like today, and she’d remember. Yes, drugs and drug dealers were still out there, but thanks to the work she and her colleagues did this morning there were fewer tonight.

“Auntie Taylor.” Reese, Taylor’s niece, skipped down the driveway, her ponytail swaying from side to side. “I made something for you at school today.”

Taylor put her gear down and gave Reese a hug.

“Most kids made it for their moms. Hazel is saving hers and giving it to her nana for her birthday. But I wanted it to be for you.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

Once again, she wished she could catch the jerk who’d first introduced her older sister, Reese’s mother, to drugs. Reese should be making things for her mom, like her friends at school. But she wasn’t. Instead, she was living with her aunt and grandmother while her mom was who knew where, doing God knew what.

“We’re having tacos for dinner. Mimi let me cut up the tomatoes.” Reese loved tacos. The kid would eat them or pizza every day if they let her.

Taylor picked up her body armor and the duffel bag containing the clothes she’d worn to work that morning. After a big arrest and search like today, she always showered and changed her clothes back at the office before she came home.

“Can I carry something?”

Taylor passed the duffel bag to her niece. While Reese was strong for an almost- seven-year-old, the body armor still weighed fifty pounds, not to mention the bag was cumbersome. “So how was school today? Did you do anything fun?”

“Great. The butterflies in class hatched this morning. It was kind of gross. Mrs. Lowell says it’ll be a few days before we release them outside. I wish we didn’t have to. I like having them in class.”

Taylor didn’t remember ever having caterpillars change into butterflies in her first-grade classroom. Then again, a lot of the things Reese did in class were different from when she’d been in school.

“They won’t survive if you don’t release them.”

“Mrs. Lowell told us that. I still wish they could stay. Butterflies are pretty.” Reese opened the front screen door and stepped inside. “Mimi, Auntie Taylor is home,” she called, loud enough for their neighbors down the street to hear.

Priscilla Walker, Taylor’s mother, poked her head around the corner. “I know, I saw her car in the driveway. Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry, Taylor.”

Her mom knew it wasn’t uncommon on days like today for her to not get a chance to eat all day. Often, that meant a stop at the first fast-food restaurant she saw on the way home because she was so hungry she could no longer wait. Thankfully, today had been a little different. She’d managed a light lunch after the arrest. “Starving, and I heard we’re having tacos.”

“Reese made sure to remind me today is Taco Tuesday. Everything is on the table. Have a seat. I’ll be right in. Don’t wait for me to get started.” Priscilla disappeared again, and Taylor heard the bathroom door close.

When Priscilla joined them a few moments later, Reese already had her first taco assembled, although Taylor refused to let her niece start eating until Priscilla joined them.

Reese picked up her taco as soon as her grandmother sat down, but then she paused before taking a bite. “Mrs. Hewitt sent home something about career day tomorrow. She told me to give it to you. It’s in my folder.”

Taylor closed her eyes. She’d forgotten all about career day tomorrow morning. Every year since the new superintendent took office, they did a career day at each of the town schools. This year, Mrs. Hewitt, the elementary school principal, had asked her to participate, and she’d agreed. Too many kids believed working for the DEA or any other government agency was something only men could do. She hoped taking part in career day would show girls it was definitely an option for them when they graduated from school.

“I’ll get it after dinner.”

“You’ll never guess what happened today,” Priscilla said while Reese munched away and Taylor prepared her first two tacos. “Kimberly called me. She and David accepted an offer on the house.”

“About time.”

Kimberly and David Cranston had moved out of the huge house next door and into an assisted living facility a good two years ago. Since then the place had remained empty, slowly deteriorating from the beautiful house Taylor remembered it being when she was young to the run-down property she passed when she went running.

“I hope they got enough for it,” Taylor said.

Although fifteen years separated Kimberly Cranston and Priscilla, the two women were good friends. When the Cranstons put the house on the market, she’d confided in Priscilla that without the money from the sale, they wouldn’t be able to stay in their current location long. Considering how long ago they’d moved, Taylor assumed the Cranstons were getting close to being forced to move again. And Taylor knew the Cranstons’ children would never help. Although all very successful, they were three of the most self-centered people she knew. They rarely even went to visit their parents, never mind help them financially.

“According to Kimberly, they got the full asking price,” Priscilla answered.

“Who’d be willing to pay that much?” Taylor loved the old house next door. It was a one of a kind gem in town, but the house needed a lot of work both inside and out. Even before the Cranstons moved out, it had needed stuff done. The years of neglect since then hadn’t helped any.

Priscilla gave a slight shrug. “Kimberly didn’t know much about the gentleman, other than he’s currently living in Boston. She told me he also agreed to skip a house inspection before the sale is finalized.”

It pleased her to hear the place had been sold, but she feared the new owner might have a few screws loose. Skip a house inspection on that old place? Who in their right mind would do that, especially after looking at the house?

“Maybe someone with children will move in,” Taylor said.

While her niece had plenty of friends, none lived on the street. When she and Eliza had been growing up, many of the houses near them contained children their age. Now, though, Reese was the only elementary-school-age child on the entire street. Instead, all their neighbors either had grown children who had moved out, or babies.

“I was thinking the same thing myself. The house is simply too big for a single person. Whoever bought it must either have children or be planning to start a family.”

She agreed, but then whoever bought the house might not plan on keeping it. Other homes in and around town had been purchased, fixed up, and then immediately put on the market again. A small two-bedroom on Sawmill Road, in fact, had been sold the past fall, and after being gutted and spruced up it went back on the market in March. A sale pending sign had gone up in front of it last week.

“Did Mrs. Cranston say when the closing might be?” Taylor asked.

“No, we didn’t talk long. She had other calls to make. But I’ll see her next week and I’ll ask.” Priscilla and Mrs. Cranston attended a book club together every other Thursday night.

Across the table, Reese polished off her second taco and started building a third, a bottomless pit when it came to food. With a break in the adults’ conversation, she decided to add her own news. “Stripes caught a mouse.”

Stripes was the American Shorthair cat they’d found in the shed three winters ago. At the time, Taylor had feared the animal wouldn’t make it through the week. He’d surprised them all, though, and while he spent much of his time inside, he did occasionally venture outside on warm, sunny days like today.

“He left it on the patio under the table,” Reese added.

Well, at least he hadn’t brought it inside. He’d tried to do that a time or two. Thankfully, she’d always caught him before he left it somewhere in the house.

“I’ll take care of it after dinner.” While death was a part of life, she didn’t want her young niece seeing a mouse decompose.

“Deb came into the library this morning,” Mom said, once her granddaughter went back to stuffing herself with tacos. “Her son, Jack, is moving back to town this month.”

Already Taylor didn’t like the sound of this particular conversation.

“I guess he hated living in Colorado. It was his wife who wanted to move there. His divorce is final now, and he found a new position with the Manchester police department.”

Yep, she knew what her mother intended here.

“Deb and I thought you two should go for coffee or something. You have a lot in common. And you’re both single.”

Her mom loved to play matchmaker. She’d gone on her fair share of dates, thanks to Mom’s past efforts.

“I remember Jack from high school, Mom. I’m not interested in going for coffee or anything else with him.” In high school, Jack had been a bully. There really was no other word to describe him. Maybe he’d changed over the last sixteen years, but she didn’t care to find out.

“Just think about it. You haven’t gone out with anyone in a while.”

For some reason, Mom believed a woman needed a man by her side to be happy. Maybe it was because she’d had such a great marriage. But Taylor didn’t agree. As far as she saw it, if the right man came along, great; if not, she was okay staying single.

“What about—”

Before Mom finished, Taylor interrupted her, something she tried to avoid, especially in front of her niece. However, she needed to catch this before Mom’s enthusiasm really got going. “Mom, please don’t set me up with anyone. We’ve talked about it before. I’m capable of finding my own dates. I don’t need you to do it for me.”

Mom pouted. “I just want you to be happy like your father and I were. That’ll never happen if you don’t date.”

Taylor realized that and appreciated it. But it didn’t change her mind on the subject. “I know, Mom. But, really, I can handle it.”

“Hazel told me her dad has a new girlfriend,” Reese said, jumping into the conversation and saving Taylor from Mom’s further insistence.

Taylor glanced at Mom because, as far as she knew, Hazel’s father was married to Hazel’s mother. Or at least they had been back in September when school started. When Mom shrugged, Taylor guessed she didn’t know anything either.

“Hazel’s dad doesn’t live with her anymore. He lives in a different house, but she has a room there for when she visits.”

She’d realized not long after Reese started talking that kids held nothing back. If they thought your shirt was ugly, or you looked like hell, they let you know. It sounded like it also applied to when your parents separated. Once again, Taylor was pleased they’d decided not to tell Reese the complete truth about her mom and why she wasn’t around. Since Reese had not even been a year old when she was taken from Eliza, she had no memories of the woman. Someday they’d have to tell her everything. She had a right to know the truth. It wasn’t a conversation Taylor was looking forward to having.

Curt stored the empty suitcases in the bedroom closet. He’d signed the purchase and sale agreement the previous week, and immediately hired a company to come in and remove all the items left behind in the house. With all the stuff gone, he needed to decide where he wanted to begin renovations. The house inspection conducted two days ago confirmed what he already suspected: the building was structurally sound, so he didn’t have to worry about the house falling down around his head. He had appointments set up with two HVAC companies to come in and give him estimates for updating the entire heating system and installing central air conditioning. The estimates for updating the electrical should be in any day. And he planned to set up appointments with window companies in the near future. Aside from those three major items, he hoped to complete everything himself. It would take a while, but time was something he had plenty of these days.

Switching off the bedroom light, he closed the door behind him. He’d spent the last few hours settling into one of the bedrooms. Although one of the smaller rooms, he’d chosen it because it needed the least amount of work for now. Once he finished the master bedroom down the hall, he’d relocate into it. He’d also set up his office today so he could get back to work on the book. It hadn’t been difficult deciding which office to use. Although the more masculine of the two rooms was larger, it also reeked of smoke. Curt assumed the former owner had done all his smoking in there and outside, because he couldn’t detect the smell anywhere else. Even if the room hadn’t smelled so bad, he may have picked the more feminine office. Located in the back of the house, the room was farther from the street and overlooked the backyard.

Since he was somewhat settled, now seemed as good a time as any to decide where he wanted to start with the renovations.

Downstairs, he pushed open a door on his left and flipped up the wall switch. The overhead bulb went on for a moment or two before it went dead. Curt made a mental note to change all the light bulbs as soon as possible, even in those light fixtures he planned to replace at some point. The window near the toilet in the first-floor bathroom allowed in enough natural light. Although extremely outdated, it was functional and definitely not a number-one priority on his list, much like the library and upstairs in the home’s billiard room. Both those rooms only needed fresh coats of paint and new light fixtures.

Curt closed the bathroom door and went down to the kitchen. This seemed like the most logical place to start. While he didn’t love to cook, he did when necessary. If he planned on living in the house indefinitely, he’d need to prepare food. With the warmer months here, he could throw a grill outside and do most of his cooking there until he finished renovating the kitchen. On the days he couldn’t grill, take-out was an option. He already had a decent idea of what he wanted to do in here, too.

Although somewhat smaller in size, the room was laid out much like his cousin’s kitchen in Newport before Trent had it remodeled. Trent’s wife, an interior designer, had turned the kitchen there from a place designed for servants to prepare food into a gourmet kitchen the entire family could gather in. While Curt didn’t intend to live here long enough for his family to gather, whomever he sold the house to would.

The light bulb over the kitchen sink went out. Never mind changing the bulbs as soon as possible, he’d change them tonight before he found himself walking around in the dark. During his drive into town, he’d passed a hardware store on Route 38, just down the street from the grocery store. He could head over that way now and kill both errands, because while he’d eaten breakfast before leaving Boston, he’d need to eat again today. When he got back, he’d arrange for a dumpster to be delivered so he could start tearing apart this room, something he was looking forward to. Honestly, he enjoyed the demolition aspect of renovation almost as much as the rebuilding process. Swinging a sledgehammer against something solid gave him a sense of satisfaction he’d never experienced while wearing a suit and sitting in an office.

Assuming he’d go out today at some point, he’d left his SUV parked in front of the house rather than in the garage. He’d been pleased when the building inspector assured him the converted carriage house was safe to use. Even so, he’d left his favorite cars in the garage at his Newport condo and had only his motorcycle delivered here.

A black, white, and gray cat sat on the vehicle’s hood when he walked outside. The cat followed Curt with his eyes as he walked around the front of the SUV. When Curt stopped and held out his hand, the cat twitched its tail. “Hey there.”

The cat meowed and remained still as Curt ran a hand down his back. “Where do you belong, my friend?” Again the cat twitched its tail, but made no indication he planned to move from his chosen spot in the sun.

Careful not to spook the animal, Curt slowly picked it up. The cat looked well cared for, and had a bright orange collar around its neck. He reached for the heart-shaped ID tag attached to the collar. “Stripes,” he said. “The name fits you.” Curt flipped the tag over. An address and phone number were printed on the back. “You belong next door.”

Should he bring the cat home? Some people allowed their cats to roam freely, confident they’d come home when ready. Others never allowed them outside. Curt had no idea which Stripes here was. He’d feel awful if it turned out Stripes wasn’t an outdoor cat, but had instead slipped out. And he would have to meet his neighbors eventually. Even if he didn’t have much interaction with them, at some point they’d cross paths. “Looks like you’re getting a ride home, Stripes.”

Stripes didn’t hesitate to curl up in the passenger seat when Curt set him down.

A long, winding driveway brought Curt down to a small house. The exterior of it reminded him of the house he’d bought, which made sense. Peter had mentioned this home had once been the groundskeeper’s cottage when the Drapers owned the property. Although the home was as old as his, this one had been maintained over the years. Even the lawn and plants in front looked well cared for.

Curt parked behind a white Chevy Malibu. A girl’s bike rested against the front steps, but the door was closed. “I hope someone is home.” He gave the cat a scratch behind the ear before ringing the doorbell.

It didn’t take long for someone to answer. A woman perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties opened the door. Before either of them could speak, a young girl’s voice called out, “Is it the mailman, Mimi?” A moment later, the owner of the voice skidded to a stop at the door.

“What are you doing with Stripes?” the girl demanded when she saw him there.

“Reese Walker, that’s no way to greet someone,” the older woman, who he assumed was a relative judging by the resemblance, said before she turned her attention to him again.

He offered up a smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s a fair question,” Curt said, before holding the cat toward the little girl. “I found him sitting on my car next door. I wasn’t sure if he’d gotten out by mistake.”

“Stripes likes to walk around outside, but he usually stays in our yard,” the older woman said, giving the cat a pat on the head. “You must be the one who bought the Cranston house. Welcome to town. I’m Priscilla, and this is my granddaughter, Reese.” She extended her hand toward him.

“Curt, and that’d be me. I moved in today.” He shook her hand and waited for any sign she recognized him. Although he resembled his mother’s side of the family more than his father’s, he still had the Sherbrooke blue eyes like his dad and so many of his cousins. And he’d had his fair share of pictures in magazines. Thankfully, nothing like his cousins Jake and Trent, though. In an effort to help conceal his identity, he’d stopped shaving, so a well-trimmed beard now covered his face. He’d skipped his last two scheduled haircuts as well. As an extra measure, he’d thrown on a pair of eyeglasses.

“I thought I saw the moving trucks go by. You’re probably not done unpacking yet. Why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? We’re making lasagna. There’s more than enough for an extra few guests.”

“It’s just me next door.” He hadn’t anticipated dinner invitations from his neighbors. The woman appeared friendly, and he hated to be rude. “Sure, sounds great. Thank you. Can I bring anything?”

Priscilla shook her head. “No, just yourself. We usually eat around seven.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Taylor locked her gun in the bedroom safe before going back downstairs. While she’d drilled gun safety into her niece, she saw no point in taking any chances. She noticed the extra plate on the table as soon as she entered the kitchen.

“Who’s coming for dinner?” They never had last-minute guests, and she didn’t remember Mom mentioning company tonight.

“Our new neighbor. He found Stripes this afternoon and brought him home. Moving and unpacking is draining. I thought he’d like a meal he didn’t have to prepare himself, so I invited him to join us.”

Taylor looked toward the ceiling and shook her head. “You invited a stranger to eat with us?” Sometimes her mom’s heart was just too damn big.

Mom left the salad she was preparing and went to the refrigerator. “Curt’s not a stranger. He lives next door. Besides, he looked harmless.”

How many times had she heard something similar from victims? More than enough to know looks could be deceiving.

“Peppers or mushrooms in the salad tonight?” Mom asked, her back still turned to Taylor.

“Either is fine.” The contents of their salad didn’t concern her. Having a strange man eat dinner with her niece did. “I really wish you’d waited to invite him, given everyone a chance to get to know him.”

“Why? So you could run a background check on him first?” Her mom chuckled and took out the peppers and mushrooms.

Mom might laugh, but if she could run a background check on the man, she would. Unfortunately, doing so without a valid reason was an agency no-no.

“Would an ax murderer return a cat to his home? Relax, Taylor. He won’t kill us over dinner.”

Her mom would be surprised the things criminals did to make their victims feel at ease and invite them into their homes. Belaboring the point wouldn’t change the fact their neighbor was joining them. Taylor considered whether or not to go back upstairs and get her gun. Dressed in denim capris and a tank top, there would be no way to conceal it unless she pulled on a baggy sweatshirt. It was a gorgeous spring evening, and Mom had all the windows open. Both their guest and niece would find it odd if she sat down with a big sweatshirt on. Their guest might not question it, but Reese wouldn’t think twice about saying something.

“What time is he coming?”

“He should be here any minute. I told him we eat around seven,” Mom answered, just as the doorbell rang and the oven timer went off. “Perfect timing. Can you get the lasagna, and I’ll get the door?” She didn’t stick around for an answer. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel and walked out of the kitchen.

“Thank you, but really, you didn’t have to bring anything.” Her mom’s voice traveled the short distance from the front door into the kitchen. “Come on in. Dinner is ready.”

“It smells delicious, Mrs.…” A deep male voice, perhaps the sexiest she’d ever heard, reached Taylor from the hallway.

“Walker, but please call me Priscilla. We’re neighbors. There’s no need to be so formal.”

Mom and their new neighbor entered the kitchen, and Taylor did a quick assessment of the man. He appeared to be around her age, although the sexy, barely there beard could be making him appear older than he was. He had brown hair, the ends of which were almost brushing against the collar of his T-shirt. Even with the wire-rimmed glasses she could tell his eyes were an incredible shade of blue. His dark blue T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, and the short sleeves revealed muscular arms. Even without X-ray vision she suspected the T-shirt covered a great body. Taylor didn’t let her visual inspection go any further.

“Curt, this is my daughter, Taylor.” Mom handed her the bottle of wine she held. “Can you open this while I go tell Reese dinner’s ready?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she glanced back toward their guest. “Please have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Not very smooth, Mom. Despite their conversation weeks ago, it looked like Mom was ready to play matchmaker again. “You got it,” she answered, even though it wasn’t necessary. “Would you like some lemonade or water?” No matter how she felt about having a dinner guest, there was no need to be rude to him.

“Water sounds good, thanks.”

The sound of his voice could only be described in one way: sensual. It was the type of voice associated with a sexy late-night radio DJ. Listening to him talk over dinner wouldn’t be a hardship at all. Neither would looking at him. Wow, the man was handsome.

Reese dominated the conversation as everyone else started dinner, by filling the adults in on the excitement that occurred at recess. First, a boy in her grade decided it would be more fun to jump from the top of the slide rather than go down it. He’d been taken off the playground in a wheelchair, his arm at a funny angle. Not long afterward, a snake was found sunning himself underneath a basketball hoop. Many of the girls and a few boys ran screaming from it. Of course Reese, being Reese, had gone in for a closer look and only left when the recess monitor ordered everyone away from it.

With the day’s excitement shared, Reese worked on filling her stomach, leaving the adults a chance to talk for the first time since sitting down.

“Where did you live before coming here?” Mom asked.

Taylor knew Mom already knew the answer, but suspected she didn’t want their guest to know she’d talked to Kimberly Cranston about him. Although, from what Mom told her, Kimberly hadn’t shared much information about the man now seated at their table.

“I’ve lived in Boston for the past five years.”

She’d suspected he wasn’t originally from the Boston area. Normally people who’d spent their entire lives in the city had a distinct Bostonian accent. Working in the city, she heard it all the time. Curt’s voice held no hint of it. Actually, she couldn’t detect any accent at all when he spoke.

“Taylor used to live in Boston. Well, Watertown actually. Do you work in Boston?” Priscilla asked.

“I did, but I recently left the investment firm I worked for.”

“Auntie Taylor works in Boston,” Reese said, deciding she needed to join the conversation again. “She’s a DEA agent. She took me to her office once to meet her friends.”

Curt glanced her way, his surprise evident, then he looked back at Reese. “Your aunt does important work.” He turned his incredible blue eyes on her again. Even with the glasses he was an extremely handsome man, but she suspected he’d be gorgeous without them. “Have you worked for the agency long?”

“Almost eight years.” Wow, had it really been that long already? She quickly double-checked her math. She’d started her training down in Quantico a week before her twenty-sixth birthday, and in two weeks she’d be thirty-four. Yep, almost eight years.

“What brought you to Pelham? A new job?” Taylor asked. Conducting a background check was out, but she’d like to know as much as possible about the man now living next to them.

“I needed a change. Someplace quiet. I’m writing a book, and sometimes the city is too much of a distraction.”

“Mimi works at the library. Do you have a book there?” Reese asked.

Curt frowned and cleared his throat. Obviously, he didn’t like Reese’s question, and Taylor wondered why.

“It’s possible. But you’d find it boring.”

“An author living right next door. What’s the title? Maybe I’ve read it,” Mom said.

Unlike her, Mom was an avid reader. She devoured both fiction and nonfiction books. She’d tried to pass her love of reading on to both Taylor and her older sister, but neither had taken to it. Reading meant she had to sit down in one place. Instead, she’d been much more interested in math. In fact, both her parents encouraged her to study mathematics in college rather than criminal justice and psychology. Neither of her parents had wanted her to follow her in her father’s footsteps. But she’d decided in middle school she wanted to be a police officer like Dad. Only later, when Eliza got arrested the first time for drugs, had she decided to apply to the DEA.

Again, Curt appeared uncomfortable before he answered, “Fatal Deception.”

She’d never heard of it, but judging by her mom’s expression, she had. Her face reminded Taylor of a teen meeting their favorite pop star.

“You’re C.S. Hilton? We couldn’t keep copies of the book in the library. It was wonderful, by the way. Marion isn’t going to believe me when I tell her C.S. Hilton is living in town. Maybe you can come and do a reading at the library one night.”

“Actually, Priscilla, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t share the information with anyone. When people learned where I lived in Boston, I started getting strange things in the mail. Random people would stop by and wait for me to leave my building. I’d really like to avoid that if possible.”

Mom nodded immediately. “We don’t want that around here. Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone. Right, Reese?”

Reese could keep a secret; you just needed to tell her upfront that whatever she’d heard couldn’t be shared, otherwise she’d tell anyone anything.

Reese paused between bites and nodded. “I wish you wrote kids’ books instead.”

While Mom had failed to instill a love of reading in her daughters, she’d succeeded with her granddaughter. Reese had learned to read before starting kindergarten and now devoured books written for children older than her. Thank goodness for a well-stocked town library, otherwise they’d be at the bookstore every other day buying more books.

“Have you started getting estimates for the work on the house?” Taylor asked. The man was obviously uncomfortable talking about his book. The house seemed like a safer, less intrusive topic. “If you haven’t already, you should give Baker and Sons Construction a call. They’re located here in town.”

She’d gone to school with Ryan Baker, the older of the two sons. Although Mr. Baker was still involved, Ryan had taken over the business after his dad suffered a heart attack. Unlike his younger brother, who’d moved to California, Ryan was one of the hardest-working people she knew, and thorough. He expected the same from the people who worked for him. When you hired Baker and Sons for a job, it got done right.

“Thanks for the recommendation. I’m hoping to do most of the work myself. It’s kind of a hobby of mine. But if I run into any problems, I’ll give them a call.”

“You’ll want to check out 38 Lumber and Hardware. It’s over near the grocery store. Dad refused to go anywhere else. And he was always working on something around here.”

Across the table, Mom gave a little laugh. “My late husband was always taking something apart and putting it back together. Often, Taylor would be working right alongside him. Taylor and her dad built the bookcase in the living room together when she was seven. And she helped him remodel the upstairs bathroom when she was in middle school.”

Curt glanced at Taylor again. The woman intrigued him. She was nothing like the women he came in contact with on a daily basis, and definitely nothing like the women he was usually attracted to. Strength and confidence radiated from her. No doubt about it, Taylor Walker was a woman who could take care of herself no matter the situation. Although she worked in a male-dominated field, the butterfly earrings she wore, and the light pink nail polish on her fingernails suggested she had a softer feminine side. She’d tied up her chestnut-colored hair, so he had no way of telling its length, but he guessed when down her hair would fall below her shoulders. And at about five seven or eight, she had a killer body, which he’d noticed the moment he walked into the kitchen.

“If I get stuck on something, maybe I’ll enlist Taylor’s help,” he said. Honestly, he could see himself asking Taylor for help on a lot of things, and none of them had anything to do with remodeling his house.

“I don’t know, Mr. Author, you might not be able to afford me.” Her voice carried a hint of laughter. It was the most relaxed she’d sounded all night.

A heavy dose of guilt smacked him in the gut. They’d accepted without question that he was nothing more than C.S. Hilton, the author of Fatal Deception. And it wasn’t as if he had completely lied to them, but telling him he was also Curt Sherbrooke, the nephew of the president of the United States and a member of the wealthiest family in the country, wasn’t an option. As it was, he wasn’t certain they could keep what he had shared a secret. He hadn’t seen any other choice when he’d told them he was an author. The fewer lies he told, the less likely he was to slip and make a mistake if they spoke in the future. Something told him he’d be seeing Taylor, Priscilla, and Reese Walker again.

“I guess I’d better find the number for Baker and Sons.”

“Can I skate on your pond this winter?” Reese asked. She’d finished her food but stayed at the table, listening to the conversation.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cranston used to let the neighborhood kids ice skate on the pond behind your house. Even after they moved, they let us bring Reese back there to skate,” Taylor said, explaining her niece’s request.

At least as long as he lived there, he saw no problem with it. Once he finished the house and moved on in a year or so, they could take it up with the new owners. “Sure… as long as you have an adult with you.”

“I think you’re going to love living here,” Priscilla said. “It’s a great place to raise a family. Both my daughters grew up here.”

“Do you have any kids?” Reese asked, sounding hopeful. “All the kids on the street are babies. My best friend, Hazel, lives near school when she’s with her mom. When she stays with her dad, she lives somewhere else. I don’t know where. I’d like someone next door to play with.”

“Sorry, no kids. I don’t even have a pet.”

“Do you have a girlfriend? Hazel’s dad has a new girlfriend. She really likes her. She lets Hazel play with her makeup when she stays over. Hazel said her mom doesn’t have a boyfriend, but she talks on the phone a lot to someone.”

Did all children Reese’s age ask questions like that? The only children he spent any time around still wore diapers. “Uh, no girlfriend either. I’m all alone next door.”

Reese smiled, revealing the missing bottom tooth. “Maybe Auntie Taylor can be your girlfriend. I always hear Mimi telling her she should go out more.”

He heard Taylor softly groan, and suddenly her face matched her fingernails. Curt wasn’t sure if he should groan too, or laugh. Both reactions fit the current conversation. And as embarrassing as the conversation had suddenly turned, Reese’s comments answered a question he’d had but couldn’t ask himself. Taylor Walker was single.

“Reese, if you’re done eating, why don’t you go upstairs, get ready for bed, and then do some reading,” Taylor said.

Curt guessed she was afraid her niece would either share some other embarrassing information or ask a question better not asked.

Reese ducked under the table. When she reappeared, she had Stripes in her arms. He hadn’t even realized the cat was under the table. “Yes, I don’t have to help clean the table tonight!” She hightailed it out of the kitchen without another word to anyone.

“Sorry about that,” Taylor said once Reese was gone. “She’ll be seven in June, and often doesn’t think before she asks questions.”

Curt shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. She can ask me anything. Not much embarrasses me.”

“Anyone interested in some dessert?” Priscilla asked, perhaps as a way to change the subject. “Reese and I made some oatmeal cookies after school today.”

“All set, Mom.”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t eat another thing,” Curt answered. “Dinner was delicious.”

Priscilla pushed back her chair and stood up. “In that case, I’m going to make sure Reese did what she was supposed to before she starts reading.” She left the kitchen almost as quickly as her granddaughter.

Curt and Taylor looked at each other, and he struggled not to smile. “She left us alone on purpose, didn’t she?” Curt asked.

Taylor sighed. “Yeah, probably. But it’s not unusual for us to tell Reese to get ready for bed, and instead she sits down and starts reading. The girl is a bookworm.”

If his mother or one of his aunts did something similar, he’d be beyond annoyed. Tonight, it didn’t faze him. “I can picture my mom doing the same thing.”

He considered his next sentence before he opened his mouth. He’d moved here with a simple plan: keep to himself, work on his house, and finish his book. Right now he wanted to add a fourth item to his plan: get to know the sexy DEA agent living next door. If he kept it very casual, she never needed to know who he really was.

“Would you like to go for coffee sometime?” Taylor asked the question before he could.

“Name the day and time.”