Page 12 of The Hermit on the Hill

"Hell no."

"Good. You hate sitting in an office all day, you prefer to be hands on, and this business venture is making you miserable."

"I'll be happy once we get to the finish line." I was getting drawn into the conversation despite my deep desire to avoid it. "We have to get through the tough stuff to get to the good stuff."

"The good stuff? The part where you destroy good people's livelihoods, take a payday, and what? Never leave this house again?"

"Good people." I snorted, blatantly ignoring his real question because I didn't have an answer. "If they can't pay the rent I require that's on them, not me. They ought to be better business people."

"Most of them aren't even the people who—"

"Lila is," I said. "She was around back then. Every one in this town prides themselves on being such 'good' people. They look out for each other. Isn't that what they say? Nana helped them all. She delivered their babies, and she healed their illnesses. She sold them love potions and wards to keep out bad luck and spirits. She gave everything she had to this town and when she needed something, those people turned their backs on the witch on the hill. Just like they had been doing all her life. They never invited her to the town picnics or sold her a booth at the festivals. They loved her when they needed something from her, but she was nothing to them when they didn't."

"When we set out on this venture," Marcus said. "I was fully on board, because it was important to you and because it's going to be profitable as hell in the long run, but you aren't happier than you were when we got here. In fact, you're becoming exactly what everyone in town calls you, a miserable, grumpy recluse."

"This is what Nana would have wanted."

"You can't know that. And I know for sure she wouldn't want you to throw away your own happiness and future for this."

Somewhere in the house, a door slammed. Then another and another. The cabinet doors in the kitchen swung open and shut, open and shut.

Marcus flinched. I thought he'd leave, but he squared his shoulders. "This is hurting your grandson," he said to the ceiling. "I know you don't want that."

All at once, the slamming stopped, and the house went quiet.

Marcus smiled. "See."

Problem was, I did see. Nana had never said a harsh word to anyone in her day, and she'd loved Catalpa Creek with all her heart and soul. I wasn't sure why she was haunting me, but it wasn't because she wanted me to avenge her death. She'd never want that.

Problem was, I did. More than anything.

"This has been fun," I said. "But I've got a tree to clear out, a car to put back together, a toilet to fix, and a treasure to find. You should take the afternoon off to enjoy time with Damian."

Marcus narrowed his eyes, but his lips twitched. "You're going soft, Sam." He slapped my back as he walked by. "And if you follow through on this, you're going to be hurting yourself more than anyone else."

"You saying you're out? You don't want to be a part of this anymore?"

"Not at all." Marcus stopped in the doorway to face me. "You're my best friend, man. I won't walk away while you're struggling. Besides, I've got way too much money invested in this project to quit now."

I growled. "God darn it, Marcus. I'm not fucking struggling."

His laughter floated back to me as he walked down the hall and out of my house.

"I have to do this," I said to the silent, empty kitchen. "They treated you worse than they'd treat an animal. I have to make it right."

Nana didn't say a damn thing in response.

***

The rain had let up to a light drizzle, but it was irritating enough that I kept my head down as I walked around back to the barn. When I lifted my head and saw the damn bobcat blocking the barn doors, I literally jumped about three feet into the air.

"Get," I yelled, but the bobcat stayed where he was, staring at me with those cold, dead, yellow eyes.

The first time I'd seen him, I'd assumed he was rabid. When he didn't attack me or froth at the mouth, but just kept showing up, I had to accept he might bemybobcat. Catrick. The one I'd taken in when he was a baby and raised up.

Unfortunately, I'd done a piss-poor job of teaching him to avoid humans or live in the wild. After I'd left Catalpa Creek, I'd put him out of my mind, assuming a tame bobcat wouldn't survive without me there to take care of him.

A few days after I'd moved into my newly constructed home, I woke from a nap in a rocking chair on the porch to see the bobcat right next to me and staring up at me like he had a message to deliver.

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