Page 118 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow
“Then we make a fine pair. Now, like I said, eat up and clean up.You’re about to inherit a helluva lot of money, and I’m looking for my share. A hundred grand, remember?”
I smile. “I think you deserve more than that.”
He shakes a finger at me. “Don’t go reneging on my deal. Your grandfather pays for my dad’s pension, and I get a hundred grand from you. Now pass me my burger.”
Thirty-Six
Ben wasn’t exaggerating his legal expertise. The property is mine, and my grandfather included a poison pill that keeps my uncle and cousin from challenging it—if they do, their own inheritance is tied up until the case is over, and it’s forfeit if they lose.
So I have the property, which I will never set foot on again. I am also the sole beneficiary of my aunt’s will and life insurance, and I’ll receive it whenever she’s declared legally dead. I won’t think about that. I can’t.
As for the property, I’m not selling it for ten million. I don’t know what I want to see done with the land our cottages sit on, but even if I’m convinced no one is in danger by being there, I don’t want it developed into million-dollar vacation properties.
I have sold part to a developer, though. I’ve severed and sold fifty inland acres near to Paynes Hollow. I’ll clear nearly two million after taxes. The town approved of the decision and granted me speedy severance approval, and they’re looking forward to the new subdivision, mixing affordable housing with modest vacation homes. That gave me the money to pay Ben, quietly slip another hundred grand to Liz Smits, settle my debts, and do pretty much anything I want, med school included.
Now I just need to get through this one thing.
Inside the doors to the care facility, Nurse Vickie meets me, and she’s beaming. “Your mother is having an excellent day. The best she’s had in months.”
Which is what I’ve been waiting for, but I only smile and say, “Good. So she’s lucid?”
“Very lucid. It happens sometimes. A ray of sunshine in the dark.” She casts a worried glance my way. “It doesn’t mean she’s recovering…”
“I know.”
“But it’s lovely to see, and I’m so glad you’re here for it.”
“So am I.” I look at her. “Is it okay if Mom and I speak in private? Maybe on the side deck? It’s a lovely day, and if she’s in a good place mentally, I want her all to myself.”
“Of course. I know she’s hoping to go out, but you can start in there.”
“Thank you.”
I head to the side deck. It’s smaller than the main one, without the gorgeous view of the river. I lean on the railing, looking out and thinking.
“There you are.” Mom’s voice comes as the sliding door whooshes open and then shuts again. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning, Sam.”
A month ago, I’d have flinched with guilt. Mom woke up lucid and asked for me, and I didn’t get here until… I check my watch. 9:20. Yep, I didn’t exactly leave her dangling all morning.
She walks over and air-hugs me, just the lightest touch. I always told myself there was nothing wrong with that. Lots of people aren’t huggers. Yet I’d always felt rejection in it, especially as a child, when my dad would scoop me up and hold me close and pull my mother into the embrace, and she’d give that moue of distaste.
Mom continues, “I know you wanted to talk, Sam, but I really do need to go out. My good spell won’t last, and I want to take full advantage. Get my hair done. Buy some new clothing. We can talk in the car, yes?”
Again, a month ago, guilt would have washed over me. Of course Mom would want to use her limited lucid time to full advantage. Sure,the home had an excellent hairstylist who visited monthly and my mom’s closet held three times as much clothing as my own, but what sort of monstrous daughter would deny her ailing mother these small pleasures? Maybe the same daughter who always hoped her mother would want to spend her lucid time withher,and not simply treat her as a credit-card-bearing chauffeur.
“Sit down, Mom.”
She sighs. “Sam, darling, I can sit anytime. I want—”
“We need to talk about the nekkers.”
She goes still, and when her gaze slowly moves my way, there’s something like panic in it before she erases it with a wave. “This is something to do with your job, I presume? Some medical terminology.”
“The nekkers in the lake. At the Paynes Hollow property. The drowned dead and the headless horseman.”
Her laugh comes high and tight. “Ah, the horseman. You have been traipsing down memory lane. Those old stories with your grandfather. I never heard the ones about… what did you call them? The drowned dead.”
“Cut the shit, Mom.”
