Page 40 of Meet Me at Sunset Cove

It had been years since he’d spoken to his mother. And even longer since he’d seen her.

Hunter cleared his throat. “I’m good.”

He couldn’t see her, but he could imagine the sad smile tugging at her lips. “I’m glad to hear it…” Another awkward pause filled the air. “Well…I know you’re busy. I just wanted to call and ask if you got my invitation.”

The wedding invitation.

Hunter grimaced, ran a hand over the back of his neck. “I got it.”

He couldn’t help the ice in his voice.

And apparently, she couldn’t help the hurt in hers. “Oh, okay…I really hope you can make it. I’d really like you to be there.”

Hunter closed his eyes. “Um, I don’t know, Mom. Work is really busy. It’s a long drive…” A long drive to watch the mother who abandoned him marry a man he’d never met. Yeah…hard pass.

Another achingly long pause and then, “You’re busy. I understand.”

Hunter swallowed the ache in his throat. Aww, Mom. “We’ll—We’ll see. I’ll try. I can’t make any promises.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice damp. “You know, you’re always welcome?—”

“Listen, I gotta go, Mom. I’m working on this project…”

“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry to bother you.” Hunter winced against the apology. “I hope to see you soon.”

“Yeah.”Love you. It was on the tip of his tongue. “Take care, Mom.”

“Love you, Hunt.”

The call ended and the house went quiet.

ChapterEight

Daisy glanced again at the time as she hurried up the hill toward the Barrett house. 6:07 p.m. Oof. She really needed to get a bike. Or better yet, a horse. Daisy emerged from the wooded portion of the road, the overcast sky dyeing the lake a deep shade of blue, dark and cold. In her arms, she carried her notebook, full of the plans she’d drawn up for the house so far. The newest page held the sketch she’d been preoccupied with most of day.

With the success ofHouse to Homeso far, she was sure she could convince Hunter to add the sunroom to the renovation. After all, it was just one room.

Daisy’s boots crinkled against the tarp they’d laid on the freshly painted porch to keep it clean.

“Before you lecture me for being late,” Daisy called as she stepped into the house. “I think you should know that I…”

Her words trailed off at the emptiness of the foyer.

It wasn’t like Hunter to be late.

“Hunter?” she called, her voice carrying through the house.

She crossed the parlor, where their workstation—a table built from plywood and sawhorses—stood over a canvas tarp, protecting the floor. She set her notebook down and continued to the door at the other end, which was slightly ajar. Unlike the way Hunter had left it.

She pressed the door slightly, and it opened to reveal Hunter, sitting on the floor of the sunroom, his back against the rounded wall, arms resting on his knees. His dark hair hung over his eyes, casting them in a shadow—but not enough to obscure the weight of whatever was bothering him.

“Hey,” she said, still standing at the threshold of the room. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, his chest rising and falling in even breaths. His eyes lifted slowly, landing not on her, but on the scorched mantel against the outside wall. “Do you know why they call it the Bad Luck Barrett House?”

“No,” she lied, Roger’s words from the diner weeks back coming to mind.Not one good thing happened to that family since the day Joe and Lisa said “I do.”Daisy took a hesitant step into the room, quietly sitting down beside him. “Will you tell me?”

He flipped his phone in his fingers absentmindedly, his head resting against the wall. “When I was growing up, this house was the Barrett legacy. It held the history of every generation, all the way back to my great-great-grandparents. It was just ‘the Barrett house’ when I was growing up.

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