Page 24 of Obsession

“Thanks, I think.” I got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’d never really mattered this much from a businessstandpoint. Organizing a tiny, family-run gallery was a whole lot different than a multi-billion-dollar company.

This felt a lot more real, and a lot more terrifying. Because it wasn’t going to last. I wasn’t meant for this job. Boston wasn’t my life—Marblehead was. The ocean was. And I had to keep reminding myself of that.

I headed down Atlantic to the park-and-ride area and found my car. Traffic wasn’t quite as hideous since it was a little after six by the time I got on the road. It still took more than an hour to get home.

As I pulled up the drive, I noticed a strange car parked out front. The foreclosure sign had been traded out forSold. Already? It took everything inside me not to run inside. Instead, I maneuvered into the small, paved space near the garage.

With the gas and electricity turned off, next would be eviction. It made sense. It just hurt too much for me to breathe at the moment.

How the hell was I supposed to do this? I knew what the man was going to say. All I wanted to do was plug my ears and curl up into a ball.

But I wasn’t six years old. I was a grown-ass woman.

When the man stepped out of the car, I crossed my arms and followed the walkway to where he stood.

“Ms. Copeland?” I’d been hearing a lot of that today, but this man’s voice wasn’t nearly as delicious as Mr. Carson’s. In fact, this man’s was quite nasally and high-pitched. It really didn’t match his tall, broad stature at all.

“Yes. That’s me.”

He pushed his hand through his hair. I could see how uncomfortable he was, but I wasn’t going to be meek about this. He was going to have to say it plainly. My eyes stung, and I was never so glad for the dimness of the solar lights on the path. There was no electricity to prove the dampness of my cheeks.

The tears were leaking before I could order them not to fall.

He was here to tell me I had to leave.

Didn’t he understand that it was too soon? My grandmother hadn’t even been interred. I hadn’t had the heart to put her away in that cold mausoleum just yet. All those ornate jars lined up, one by one. My grandmother didn’t belong there, even if that had been in her will. All that life and beauty—gone.

“Um, well, I’m here to advise you that the bank has finalized the purchase of this house by a new owner.”

“Blake Carson,” I said angrily.

He smoothed down a cowlick of hair. “I’m, um, not at liberty to disclose that kind of information.”

“Everyone in the Bay knows.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I still can’t speak about that. I’m here to let you know that you have seventy-two hours—a bit less actually, since the day is about to end—to evacuate the premises.”

“All the furniture?” There were eleven rooms in the house. Where was I going to put all of that? I couldn’t afford moving, let alone a storage facility to hold that kind of inventory.

He opened his car door and took out a large envelope. “You have a few options. You can have an estate sale. The new owner will allow the furniture to stay for a sale in the near future.”

“How kind of him.” My voice wobbled a little, but I swallowed down the tears.

Blake Carson had no idea just what he was doing. All the history and memories. God, the memories. And I hadn’t been able to tell him. Even now, I didn’t know if he’d care about my story.

He’d bought the property on the cheap—at least for him and his billions. When the lawyer had told me the amount of the mortgage, I’d literally gasped. It had started as a reverse mortgage and grown from there until my grandmother hadowed millions. The land, the house, and the private beach were worth so much.

Why had she needed so much?

I’d never really know. My grandmother had seen fit to take those secrets to the grave. Not even her will gave me an indication. In fact, her will hadn’t been updated since I was in high school.

And now this. I tipped back my head, praying that the tears wouldn’t flow so hard they brought the running nose and sniffling with them. Too many people had seen me cry now.

“Ms. Copeland?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” I took the envelope he was holding out.

“Do you understand the information I’ve given you?”

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