Cedar Hollow (3 page)

Cassidy felt awkward and off balance. She’d had no idea someone could be so attractive and repulsive all at the same time.

“You’re
right, she’s not a paying customer. She’s
the owner
.” Mrs. Owens emphasized, sounding every bit the scolding grandmother.

“Not yet, she isn’t.” Ben gr
umbled still glaring at Cassidy resentfully as he leaned against the counter.

“Look I’m not trying to take over.” Cassidy assured them both. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I just got a call that I’d inherited this property and for some reason I had to be here in person to
sign the paperwork. That’s all I’m trying to do. I’ll sign whatever papers are needed and then you can buy the land from me. I don’t want it.”

“Oh how generous of you.” Ben sneered. “You’ll allow us to buy our home from you? And what if we can’t afford it? Will you kick us out to sell the place to the highest bidder?” The vehemence in his words was staggering. This man truly hated her.

“Ben.” Mrs. Owens whispered, placing her hand on his arm to calm him.

Cassidy wasn’t sure what to say. What did he expect her to do? It dawned on her that this pro
perty had no mortgage. He had been living here rent free, apparently with his own personal cook and housekeeper. He’d been living the easy life up here on the hill, only having to dust off the furniture and fill the hot water tanks during the “on-season” whenever that was. Cassidy had had no idea the middle of summer could be considered an “off-season”.

Well maybe it was time for Mr. Riley to grow up and realize not everything in life is quite this easy. Cassidy was not going to be made to feel guilty just because he was going to have to step up and either
buy this place or move on. She wasn’t kicking him out, she was giving him a choice.

“What you decide to do is of little consequence to me
, Mr. Riley.” Cassidy said, putting her game face on. “The fact of the matter is I’m here to handle my business and that’s exactly what I intend to do, with or without your approval of how I go about it. I have a meeting in town with Mr. Woodard. I better be on my way.” Cassidy stood and sashayed out of the kitchen. She could feel Ben’s burning green eyes follow her out of the room.

As Cassidy drove into Cedar Hollow she admired the simplicity that this little town enjoyed. Two young boys rode their bikes past her as she pulled onto Main Street, and she marveled that there was still a place where children could ride their bikes unsupervised. Growing up in Florida, Cassidy’s mother had never let her out of her sight.

She noted two elderly gentlemen
sitting at a wooden table playing checkers in front of the hardware store. She didn’t realize people actually did that; she’d only before seen it in movies.

Across the street a mother and her teenage daughter emerged from the beauty parlor each looking freshly groomed as they walked up the street laughing and talking. The sight made Cassidy long for happier times when she used to share moments like that with her own mother. It also made Cassidy wonder what it would have been like to grow up in this little town.

For a moment she felt a twinge of guilt at having that thought. The St. Claire’s were her parents. They had loved her and raised her and had given her everything she could have ever wanted. It wasn’t until they were taken from her so suddenly that she had ever even wondered what her biological family was like.

She had always known she was adopted, since she was old enough to understand, but she had never felt anything but lucky for having the wonderful parents that she’d been blessed with. She had never longed for the family she hadn’t known.
The family that hadn’t wanted her.

Even now she wasn’t entirely sure what had inspired her to search for them after all these years. When she had put any thought to it she just assumed that her biological mother had been young and single, a teenager perhaps, who had unexpectedly found herself in a compromising position. That explanation made the most sense.

When she actually began her search a few months ago she was surprised to find that her biological parents were in fact married and that they had both died in a fire five years after she’d been born, long after she’d been given up for adoption. This revelation left too many questions in her mind. If they were a young married couple, why didn’t they want their baby? Why didn’t they want her? And why had they driven hundreds of miles to place her up for adoption in another state. Were they so afraid of being found if she was kept too close?

Cassi
dy was rescued from her sad reverie when she realized that she’d arrived at her destination. The law office was simply a converted single story house located on Main Street just beyond the commercial businesses. The only thing identifying it from the other houses on the street was the sign hung in the front yard that simply read WOODARD LAW in hand painted white letters.

Cassidy pulled into the driveway and stepped out of her car smoothing her hands over her skirt. A young mother pushing a stroller passed by and waved at Cassidy smiling. Cassidy smiled and waved back wondering if perhaps she’d misjudged the people of this town based on her first uncomfortable encounter in the diner.

Cassidy walked up onto the wooden porch and hesitated at the door, although she knew this was a place of business she felt awkward simply opening the door and walking inside. It felt like invading someone’s home. She was so used to the sterile professional buildings of downtown Chicago.

Cassidy bolstered her courage, secured her professional demeanor and opened the door. She walked into the small living room that had been converted into a waiting area with vinyl chairs lining the walls and functional multi-colored carpeting covering the floor. A desk was set up against the far
wall and a plump, red-haired woman sat at the desk reading a gossip magazine. Her pale red hair was piled loosely into a granny-bun and she twirled a loose strand absently around her finger absorbed in her magazine.

When she saw Cassidy enter she quickly stashed the magazine and sat up straighter in her chair, organizing some papers on her desk in an attempt to look occupied. Cassidy hid her smile as she approached the desk.

“My name is Cassidy St. Claire, I have an appointment with Mr. Woodard.” Cassidy informed her.

“Yes, Miss St. Claire, we’ve been expecting you.” The receptionist tried to affect the same formal tone that Cassidy had used. “Please have a seat while I see if Mr. Woodard is available.” She gestured to the chairs along the wall and Cassidy nodded as she took a seat.

The receptionist hurriedly rose from her desk and hustled down a short hallway. Cassidy noticed the small coffee table in the center of the room was covered with various editions of the same tabloid that she’d seen the woman reading when she entered. She picked one up glancing over the glossy cover and reading the headlines. She could hear the woman’s hushed voice echoing down the hall.

“The Miller girl is here.” She whispered loudly. Cassidy started at the name. She’d never been called that before. She was well aware that her biological family’s name was Miller, but it still felt strange to hear
herself referred to that way. A chill ran up her spine.

She heard the heavy-set receptionist hurrying back down the hallway, but she halted abruptly when she came into view, slowing her walk to a more casual pace.

“Mr. Woodard will see you now.” She gestured professionally up the hall.

“Thank you.” Cassidy smiled warmly as she stood and walked into the short hallway, there were only two doors in the hall. She chose the one that was open.

Mr. Woodard sat at his large mahogany desk with a wall of accolades behind him, surrounded by bookshelves packed full of thick volumes. He was middle-aged and balding, with a round ruddy face and a kind smile.

“Good afternoon
, Miss St. Claire, please have a seat.” He gestured to one of the wingback chairs positioned in front of his desk.

Cassidy
sighed a breath of relief that he’d used her real name. She wasn’t sure why being called “the Miller girl” had shaken her so badly, but she hadn’t liked it. 

“Thank you
, Mr. Woodard, it’s a pleasure finally meeting you in person.” Cassidy said politely as she took her seat.

“I hope you are enjoying our little town?” Mr. Woodard smiled.

“It’s a lovely town.” Cassidy agreed. “Although I must admit I’m a little confused why I needed to sign the acquisition papers in person.”

“Yes well, your u
ncle…” Mr. Woodard hesitated as if trying to find the right words. “He was a very particular man. He was very specific in the wording of his will. He required any living relatives to appear in person in order to receive the inheritance.”

“Yes
, Sir, I understand.” Cassidy agreed reasonably. “Well, here I am. Where do I sign?”

“Unfortunately, it’s not quite that simple.” Mr. Woodard hedged, shuffling some paperwork on his desk and looking uncomfortable. Cassidy felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she had a hunch she wasn’t going to like this next caveat.

“How exactly ‘un-simple’ is it, Mr. Woodard?” Cassidy asked calmly.

“Your u
ncle required that the property only be passed on to a blood relative of the Miller family line. As you are aware by now, you are the last living relative.”

The minor has no other family?
Haunting words from the past came unbidden into Cassidy’s mind, but she pushed them away.

“Yes
, Sir, I am aware.” Cassidy agreed, wishing the man would just get to the point.

“He also required that the descendent inheriting the property must live on the premises for thirty consecutive days before the deed can be relinquished.”  Mr. Woodard finally dropped the bomb, it was worse than Cassidy thought.

“Live on the premises?” Cassidy repeated incredulously.

“Yes
, Ma’am, before you can take control of the property you are required to maintain residence for thirty consecutive days. I’m afraid the will is quite specific.” Mr. Woodard explained apologetically.

“What if I refuse? What if I don’t want it?” Cassidy challenged in disbelief.

“Then the property will be condemned.” Mr. Woodard stated matter-of-factly.

“Condemned?” What on earth did that mean?

“Yes, Ma’am, it states quite clearly that if no living relative is in existence then the structure is to be demolished.”

“You mean they would just tear the house down?” Cassidy immediately thought of sweet Mrs. Owens, who had lived in that house for
the last forty years. What would she do?

“Yes
, Ma’am.” Mr. Woodard confirmed solemnly.

What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t possibly stay here for a whole month. But she couldn’t be responsible for that poor old woman being turned out of her home. Now the resentment of the townsfolk was finally sinking in. Did they all know? Did everyone know that she would be required to live in this town, in that strange house filled with bright rooms and dark corners? There was something about that house, something that made her feel off. She shook the superstitious feeling. It was just a house. But to Mrs. Owens it was a home, the only home she’d known since sh
e’d married her husband nearly forty years ago. Did she even have any family, did she have anywhere else to go? This was all too overwhelming. Cassidy had been responsible to no one, alone in the world for the last fifteen years. Now suddenly the fate of these people she hardly knew rested in her hands. She didn’t want the responsibility.

“I have a lot to consider.” Cassidy finally responded. “I have responsibili
ties to my employer in Chicago and I’m not sure if I can afford to be absent for an entire month.”

“Of course
, Ma’am.” Mr. Woodard nodded, resigned. “I do believe the will allowed thirty days for the tenants to clear out before demolition if you were unable or unwilling to assume the property.” Mr. Woodard explained professionally with no censure in his voice, but Cassidy felt it nonetheless. She felt the guilt stabbing at her. She couldn’t be responsible for kicking these people out of their home.

“I said I needed time to consider it.” Cassidy clarified. “Let me contact my employer and see what I can arrange.”

“Oh!” The shock was clear in Mr. Woodard’s voice. “Of course, Ma’am, take all the time you need. The will did not actually specify a time frame in which the decision needed to be made.” Mr. Woodard seemed relieved and surprised.

“I’ll let you know my decision by Monday.” Cassidy stated coolly as she stood to leave.

“Yes, Ma’am, take all the time you need. You have my number.” Mr. Woodard stood and shook Cassidy’s hand. She turned and left his office, smiling briefly at the receptionist who was once again absorbed in her magazine.

She drove back up the mountain slowly, pouring over all this new information. What was she going to do? She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t leave. Why on earth would her strange uncle require such a bizarre procedure for inheriting this property, and why would he require it demolished if no liv
ing family member could take it? Would she even be allowed to sell it if she did acquire the property?

She could feel a tension headache coming on as she pulled up in front of the house. She climbed out the car and slammed the door in irritation for no real reason other than it felt good to do so. As she stom
ped up the porch steps Ben came walking around from the back of the house all sweaty and dirty and infuriatingly handsome.

“
Ms. St. Claire, I didn’t expect you back.” He didn’t attempt to hide his surprise.

“Well I am back.
For now. And if you don’t want to find yourself out on your ass you will fill up those hot water tanks so I can take a bath.” Cassidy demanded hotly then turned on her heal and stormed into the house.

Cassidy sunk low in the tub, luxuriating in the feel of the warm water enveloping her. She stretched out allowing her limbs to float as she closed her eyes and felt the tension melt away. Her long blonde hair was piled loosely on top of her head, with stray tendrils dipping down into the water. She could stay here for hours, locked away from the demanding world. And thankfully the bathroom door, at least, did have a lock.

She tried to push out all thoughts of inheritance and tenants and strange uncles. She tried to just take these few moments of reprieve and enjoy them so that her head would be clear later when it was time to make a decision. She wanted to put that off as long as she possibly could.

The bathtub was like a warm cocoon, blanketing her from the harsh world. She stayed in it until the water had cooled and her fingers and toes were pruned to the point of discomfort. Reluctantly she stepped out of the bath and wrapped herself in one of the large soft towels that she had found placed on her bed. Mrs. Owens must have left them for her.

Her limbs felt limber and her body relaxed for the first time since arriving in Cedar Hollow. She knew she needed to dress, it was still daylight outside, but for the moment she just wanted to lie down wrapped in the soft fluffy towel. She felt drugged from the warm bath and suddenly overcome with exhaustion. She crawled onto the bed still only wrapped in a towel and told
herself that she would only close her eyes for a moment.

Three loud thuds startled her out of a deep sleep. She bolted upright in bed and felt disoriented, it was dark outside. Surely it had only been a few moments since she’d shut her hers.