Chapter 3

A good night's sleep has a way of making everything look different. I woke up on Tuesday morning ready to work. Since I'd spent the prior day cleaning and organizing, I was able to remove the drop cloths from the living room furniture. Now I had room to pull out my laptop and get down to business. I was finally ready to tackle a renovation budget.

Numbers I could handle.

I cracked my knuckles before opening a blank spreadsheet. Dorky as it was, making a budget was one of my favorite things to do. When things were chaotic, having a list of what to spend and where made me feel better. Moving home and fixing up a house was overwhelming. Checking items off a list, that was doable.

First, I listed all the things I knew needed to be fixed. On the exterior, the steps were crumbling, and the siding was dingy. I listed:

(1) step repair

(2) exterior paint

Looking around the room, my eyes landed on the hole in the wall I'd noticed earlier. I definitely couldn't fix that on my own. I would need a professional.

(3) drywall patch

(4) interior paint

As I continued noting things that needed to be fixed, anxiety tightened my stomach. Even though my mom's attorney didn't think she'd be kicked out of the penthouse right away, I was trying to be practical. Her assets were tied up with Christian so at some point, she was going to lose it all. This house was all we had left. Looking at the list I'd already accumulated, my savings weren't going to be enough to fix everything. I would need to be really smart about how I spent my money.

My cell phone dinged with a text message. I tapped it and then frowned. Some guy had sent a selfie. It must be a wrong number.

Then my phone rang. It was another unknown number. Normally I would have answered just in case it was my little sister calling from a friend's phone, but something told me to wait. A minute later, I had a new voicemail. When I played it, I heard muffled breathing and what sounded like whispers. By the time I realized what I was listening to, he was apparently reaching the finish line.

"What is wrong with people?"

Not that I was judging people who wanted to have phone sex, but who sent this sort of stuff without checking to make sure it was the right number first? Then another message came through.

Unknown

I can pay you with this.

The next message was a dick pic.

"Gross." I hurriedly deleted it.

When my phone rang again, I started to panic. What was going on? There was no way multiple people were coincidentally dialing my number by accident. If I didn't know any better, I'd assume Aaron had leaked my number to the press. But he was the one who had left me. Truthfully, he hadn't cared enough about me when we were together to go to this much trouble. So that didn't make sense either.

I was scared to look at my phone again but maybe one of the messages would give me a clue as to why this was happening. After taking a deep breath, I flipped my phone over and winced at the number of red flags on the screen. I ignored the voicemails and scrolled through the text messages.

Unknown

Is the house still available? I'm never sure if these Reddit posts are real.

Reddit? I didn't even have a Reddit account. Honestly, I was barely ever online at all. I'd been avoiding social media since Christian's arrest.

Then I remembered the message I'd left on the Violet Ridge Facebook page.

Oh no.

* * *

"No, I don't allow snakes!"

I hung up without waiting to hear whatever other questions the caller might have. So far there had been almost fifty phone calls about the room for rent and none of them were promising.

Apparently someone had reposted my original message on a Reddit thread about crazy low rents. Since my location on Facebook was still set to New York, everyone thought I was renting an entire house in the city for only five hundred dollars a month. Considering the cost of New York real estate, I could understand why it had gone a little viral.

The idea of renting anything in the city for five hundred dollars was insane. You couldn't even rent a shoebox for that price. I was getting calls from people all over the country asking if the house was still available.

The first woman wanted to know if there was a yard for "all" of her dogs. The second caller was a guy who wanted to know what the menu was. He'd seemed perplexed when I explained that the house was not a bed and breakfast but very helpfully told me that he'd seen a screenshot of my message posted on Instagram.

Then there were the scores of perverts asking what I was wearing, sending text messages with dick pics, and one guy who called several times in a row just to breathe heavily into my ear. I shuddered remembering.

Who knew there were this many weirdos looking for a place to live? Not only that but willing to call a random number they saw online to harass me.

Who had that kind of time?

The doorbell rang and I sighed with relief. Tana had texted earlier promising to stop by after work with a bottle of wine. After the day I'd had, I could really use a drink and a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. I pulled the door open and gasped at the sight of an unfamiliar man on the porch. He was wearing a battered hat and mud splattered boots.

He looked me up and down before a shocked smile pulled at his lips. "My friend saw the post online and recognized the house. Are you the pretty lady looking for a renter?"

On pure instinct, I slammed the door in his face and then twisted the deadbolt.

"Is that a no?" His voice was muffled by the door.

"The room has been rented. Sorry!"

My breath still coming fast, I waited until I heard his ambling footsteps cross the porch. His shadow passed in front of the living room window and I twisted my fingers to resist the urge to peek through the curtains to make sure he'd really left.

Well, I would definitely have to give Tana the benefit of saying I told you so.

My phone rang and I crossed the room to where I'd tossed my handbag on the old couch. It was a busy flower design that was still covered in plastic. When I was a child, I was scared to sit on any of the furniture in this room. Now, like everything else in the house, it just looked sad. Neglected.

I could relate.

After I dug my phone out of my bag, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my mother's picture on the screen.

"Hey, Mom. How are you?"

"I'm hanging in there, honey. How do things look at the house?"

I looked around at the neglected interior. "Not great. Mom, I thought you said you had a management company taking care of the place? It looks pretty bad."

She was quiet for a moment. "Really?"

"Yeah. It doesn't look like anyone's been here in a long time. Also, there's a hole in the wall."

"A hole?"

"Like someone fell into it by accident."

"Well, that's strange."

"I know. What company did you hire?"

When she didn't respond right away, I sighed. Now that I was thinking clearly, I realized it would have been right around the time when we first moved to New York. She would have been pregnant with Billie and newly married.

"The stepj—uh, Christian handled all that, didn't he?"

"Yes. At the time it seemed so much easier to let him handle everything. I was so exhausted then. Having a baby in your thirties is a very different experience than when you're younger. That's something you should keep in mind."

"Mom."

"I'm just saying. Have you spoken to Aaron at all?"

"Mom. He left me. It's kind of hard to speak to someone who moves out and blocks your number."

"Okay, honey. I think maybe this is all a misunderstanding. He's probably just overwhelmed. He and Christian were so close."

"Too close," I muttered under my breath.

With a little distance it was easier to see that the only reason Aaron had been interested in me was to gain a closer relationship with his idol. He probably saw the boss's stepdaughter as a shortcut to the executive floor. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong. In the time we were together, Aaron had been promoted twice. Dating him was the only thing I'd ever done that Christian had liked.

"Well, I'm going to find a contractor to handle everything. Hopefully it won't take long to get the place ready so you and Billie can move in. When do you think you'll be coming?"

"Her summer camp doesn't end until August. I'll need that long at least to get everything squared away here. Alan doesn't think they'll take the penthouse right away."

Alan Spencer had been a lawyer for the Delacourt family for years. Christian used to say Alan was the only one "who knew where all the bodies were buried." Considering everything that had happened, I could only hope that was a joke.

"I'll try to get it ready as fast as I can. Does Billie know what's happened yet?"

"No and hopefully it'll stay that way. The less people talking about this the better. What a disaster."

"Mom, I really think we should tell her."

"Let's let her have one last summer free of worry, hmm?"

"Okay but I'm?—"

"Oh, that's Alan on the other line. I have to go. I love you, sweetheart. Bye!"

Frustrated, I dropped my phone back into my bag. Mom had a lot on her plate right now, but it would be nice to get a little more information about how things were going at home. Did she really think no one in her social circle was talking about this? Billie had just left for summer camp the day before Christian got arrested, but that didn't mean she was completely cut off from Manhattan gossip. I didn't want her to find out from someone else, but my mom seemed to think keeping her in the dark was for the best.

Maybe she hoped to have something positive to tell her before we dropped the bad news.

Exhaustion warred with my restless desire to be doing something. Taking a nap wasn't going to help me get the house ready any faster. But with the way I was feeling, I probably wasn't going to get much more done anyway.

I decided to compromise by taking a break for a hot bath. After all the cleaning I'd done yesterday, I should have showered before bed. Now I felt grungy.

Maybe after a little time to relax I could figure out a way to make my meager savings stretch to cover renovating an entire house. Especially since the roommate thing was looking like a bust. Out of all that, I hadn't found even one decent person. Dejected, I walked upstairs. There were only two bathrooms in the entire house, one downstairs and one in the upstairs hall. The first bathroom was pretty small with just a toilet and a sink. The upstairs bathroom hadn't changed since I was a kid, a relic from the seventies with pink tiles and an old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub. It was surrounded by a frilly shower curtain attached with metal rings to a rod in the ceiling. I tugged on the curtain gently. It seemed sturdy enough. That was a good sign.

After carefully pushing the curtain back, I turned on the tub faucet, praying for hot water. It took a few minutes but soon the water was piping hot. Success!

Ever since I was a little girl, I'd always used the small bedroom at the end of the hall. As I passed the closed door to Gran's room, a wave of sadness took me by surprise. Eventually I would have to go in there, but I honestly couldn't ever imagine sleeping in Gran Grace's room.

In my room, I gathered up a change of clothes and took them into the bathroom. The water was only halfway but the tub was deep so that was probably enough. I twisted the knob to turn the water off.

Nothing happened.

"Oh no." I frantically turned the knob back the other way with no results.

"No, don't do this to me!"

Unsure of what else to do, I pulled the plug, hoping it would drain fast enough to prevent the tub from overflowing. But as I watched, the water level kept rising.