Page 2 of One Last Touch

“Who the fuck are you?” The voice was deep and gruff, and despite my alarm a kernel of interest flickered to life inside me at the bluntness of the question.

I pulled my arm free with a sharp tug and raised an eyebrow at the man standing in front of me. He looked to be in his early twenties and was a bundle of contradictions with his lean but muscular frame but otherwise bookish appearance. “I think the better question is who the fuck are you?”

His face went slack in something like surprise before he scowled, his dark eyebrows slanting downwards. Though intimidatingly tall and broad, the effect was somewhat lost by the pair of round wire glasses perched across his long nose and the plush softness of his mouth. “I asked you first.”

I folded my arms across my chest and smirked while I waited him out. The silence between us stretched on as he mimicked my pose, that generous mouth drawing tight as a muscle in his jaw ticked. Eventually it was the woman from the house who called a ceasefire.

“I’m sorry, dear, but this is private property.” Though her voice shook a little, there was a firmness to her that made me relax. I realised she reminded me a little of my own mother, firm but gentle.

“And you would be?”

“Ms Angelica Weathers.” The words weren’t phrased as a question, but her unspoken and you are? didn’t pass me by.

“I’m sorry for turning up unannounced. I didn’t know there would be any staff here. I’m Georgina Cole, the new owner.”

The man behind me made an odd sound that was a cross between a scoff and a choke and I raised an eyebrow in his direction as I spun to face him. “Sorry, is there a problem here Mr…?”

“Williams. Sage Williams.” He didn’t elaborate, nor did he offer his hand, and I wrinkled my nose as I scratched absently at my leg through my jeans.

“Right, well, this house belonged to my mum and now it’s mine,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady to assert myself. “I’m sure you know more about taking care of this place than me…” I looked around doubtfully at the overgrown grass but mentally shrugged it off as I turned back to them. “So I’m happy to keep you on.”

Sage’s brown eyes narrowed and he took a step toward me, opening his mouth only to shut it as Weathers shot him a warning look.

“Who exactly was your mother, dear?”

“Natalia. Natalia Cole. Or—Alswell, I suppose.” Weathers' pale face seemed to drain further and Sage had gone very still. I sighed, rubbing at my sinuses as I took them in. They were an odd pair, Sage a scowling menace and Ms Weathers looking like she’d stepped straight out of a disney movie with her flushed cheeks and tiny stature. “I take it I’m not the only one who my mum kept secrets from, then. Listen, it’s been a long day. I’d really like to just take a look around and get settled.”

A bitter laugh made me blink in surprise as Sage shook his head, a dark smile that barely touched his eyes twisting his mouth. “You can’t possibly think you’re going to stay here.”

“Well it is my house, isn’t it?”

The pair of them stood and stared at me, Sage clenching and unclenching his jaw as if he were chewing on words he couldn’t quite spit out before he stepped to Ms Weather’s side and whispered something in her ear. This was… strange. I hadn’t realised I would have to convince my staff to let me into my own house. Ms Weathers waved Sage off with a flap of her hands, stepping forward and smiling hesitantly as her blue-green eyes ran over my face.

“Give us your bag then. I’m your housekeeper—pleased to meet you,” she added, glancing at Sage in something like admonishment. “I’ll drop it inside the door for you while you explore the grounds. Watch your footing around the lake it’s, well—actually, why don’t you show Georgina around, Sage?” Ms Weathers didn’t wait for a response before hefting my suitcase and hurrying off towards the house. Sage looked like he’d rather do anything else, so I smiled at him, big and cheery.

“Where to first?” I said, watching him closely for any indication of what that had all been about. Why did he care so much if I was here or not?

His scowl seemed perpetually slapped across his face, or maybe it was just the effect I had on him, but nonetheless he set off towards the lake and I followed with less irritation and more curiosity. I had the feeling that if he bothered to smile, he might be worryingly attractive—the kind of guy you’d probably say something stupid in front of and curse yourself over as soon as he was out of sight. He couldn’t have been much older than me, but something about his stoic silence made me feel young, stupid.

His face was so slim it was almost narrow, with prominent cheekbones and deep-set eyes. It was a shame, really, that in just one conversation I’d already managed to piss him off.

“So what exactly do you do here?”

He shot me a look. “Grounds.”

From his tone, you would have thought I’d just colourfully insulted his mother and then delivered a swift kick to the balls. I raised an eyebrow. “Have you worked here long?”

A twitch of his full lower lip was the only answer I received. I didn’t think it was strange for me to ask though—in a few short weeks I’d become a home-owner and now also an employer, apparently. How much did they get paid? Should I be reprimanding them for the clear lack of upkeep? I had no idea and the thoughts were more than a little overwhelming as I slipped on the slick mud and followed Sage, who seemed to have no issue gripping the ground in his thick gardener’s boots. The ground sloped downwards, off to the right of the house and the smell of water grew clearer even as the grass grew sparser and the path gave way to more mud. It would have felt claustrophobic if not for Sage’s hulking presence and the sun that persistently shone through the black clouds overhead, as if in defiance of the rain.

The grass lightened up as we rounded a corner and there was the lake. It was bigger than I’d expected and seemed to trail off into several off-shoots, complete with its own wooden boat and oars for paddling. It looked like the perfect place for someone to spend a sunny afternoon, like something out of a Jane Austen novel, gliding along the water with a frilly umbrella overhead. I snorted aloud and Sage shot me a look before continuing on around the edge of the lake where the mud grew stickier amidst the remains of the grass. I couldn’t help wondering what this place looked like in the summer, buzzing with life. I bet my mother would have loved it.

The thought sent a pang through me that I pushed to one side as Sage and I walked in silence. There was a small wooden lookout and our footsteps thunked against the surface comfortingly as we walked to the end and stared out at the trees on the opposite bank, swaying in the wind. Weeping willows, I was pretty sure they were called.

“The cemetery is over the back,” Sage said, a surprising softness in the rumble of his voice, and I jumped a little, so lost in my own thoughts as I watched the water that I’d half-forgotten he was there. His dark eyes were unfathomable but from the way he’d offered up the information, he had to know about my mother.

“Did you see her go there? That day?”

“Yes.”

---