Austin’s announcement relieved her. At least he knew he wasn’t ready to “adult,” as he’d called it. She would miss him while he was gone, but she appreciated knowing he would be back in the fall. Of course, that was a slight complication when it came to selling the house. In the back of her mind, she’d thought maybe, when she listed the house, Jase would invite her to move in. They hadn’t talked about it, but they’d been dating a year now, and...
Okay, she didn’t know what the “and” was, but they’d been together awhile. Moving in together was the next logical step. But if Austin was still living with her, that wasn’t an option. Jase’s two girls stayed with him every other weekend. His house didn’t have a bedroom for Austin, and she wasn’t going to tell her son he wasn’t welcome. The obvious solution was for her to find a smaller place of her own.
She looked out at the gorgeous pool, the hot tub and the waterfall. This and the kitchen were her favorite parts of the house. The rest was too big and too perfect for her taste. She’d never felt comfortable here, and once she and Cord had divorced, she’d been eager to sell.
But Austin had only been fourteen, and she’d figured he’d been dealing with enough without adding a move to the mix. Harlow had also been a consideration, still coming home regularly from college. Now Austin was out of high school, and Harlow was engaged and living with her fiancé. Moving made sense for the kids and for her financially. She was tired of the large mortgage payment that chewed up so much of her monthly income.
She sat on the mat. She would need to get a place big enough for her and Austin—something with a pretty outdoor space and relatively close to where she lived now. If the backyard was nice enough, maybe Harlow wouldn’t throw a fit about not being able to be married in this one. For reasons not clear to Robyn, Harlow had become fixated on a backyard wedding.
Robyn wanted something a lot less showy than this place. Smaller and cozier, with a few modern touches. Later she would check out local inventory online. If she saw something she liked, she would view it. As for Harlow and the wedding, it wasn’t anything she had to deal with right now. One crisis at a time. And in less than two hours, the current one was going be ringing her doorbell.
two
MASON BISHOP HAD the wrong address. He stared at the information on his phone, then back at the house in front of him. No, house was the wrong word. It was a...something more than just a house.
Massive, sprawling, with mismatched additions jutting out haphazardly, the three-or maybe four-story mansion looked as if it had been designed while the architect was drunk. Or by a space alien who had only heard about where humans lived, but had never actually seen that kind of structure for himself.
The roof was red tiles, the exterior walls white stucco. The front facade had arches and windows that were traditionally Spanish—not unfamiliar in the Southern California region, or so he’d read. The addition on the left had a Dr. Seuss–like quality to it, while the one on the right was maybe early colonial.
Surprisingly, once he got past the strangeness, he found the disparate elements oddly appealing. He wanted to explore the—
His phone rang.
“Bishop.”
“Hello, Mason. It’s Lillian.”
Right. Lillian Holton, the widow of his third cousin, five times removed, or whatever the relationship was. Lillian, who’d been writing him for years, ever since Leo, her husband, had passed away. In every letter she’d insisted he visit the house he would, due to some legal quirk, inherit upon Lillian’s death.
“I’m in Santa Barbara,” he told her, continuing to eye the weird-ass house. “But I’m not at the right place.”
A curtain on the main floor flickered. “Are you parked outside the most unusual house you’ve ever seen?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed. “Then you’re here. The garage is a ways back behind the house. It used to be the stables. I’ll meet you out there.”
Mason Bishop had served twenty-five years in the army. He spent two of them as a drill sergeant, turning new recruits into fighting men and women. He’d been in battle, he’d been injured, he’d seen most of the world, and he’d been married twice. Very little surprised him anymore. Except for today.
“I’d been expecting a three-bedroom ranch,” he admitted.
The laughter returned. “I thought you might be. I’m afraid this is the house your uncle has left you.”
Had Professor Lynn been his uncle? He could have sworn they were cousins—distant cousins. Which wasn’t the point. He couldn’t inherit this house. It was the size of a small city. Upkeep would cost a fortune. There had to be a mistake.
“It’s larger than I expected.”
“No one knows how big she is. Well, someone could figure it out, but I’ve never cared enough to measure. I’m hanging up now, Mason.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mason did the same, then looked at the monstrosity on the hill. Holy shit. What was he supposed to do with a house like that?
He drove his SUV down the long driveway, past windows and doors and more windows and doors before following a gentle curve to a building the size of the hospital on his last base. Here the architecture was pure Spanish, with the red roof tiles and white stucco, accented by a half dozen wooden garage doors.
He parked, then got out and looked around. The sky was a deep blue, with not a single cloud. There were unfamiliar trees and bushes, probably native, with several palm trees looking as out of place as he felt. When he inhaled, he smelled the ocean. The house was only a few blocks from the Pacific, and he would guess several of the balconies he’d seen had a perfect view.
A surprisingly normal back door opened, and a tall, thin woman stepped out. She had short white hair and a cautious but steady gait.
She approached him, her face bright with anticipation, her smile friendly.
“Mason, at last. You’ve been very elusive.”
Mason was wary around people he didn’t know, and he’d been chided all his life for being slow to warm up to strangers. But Lillian Holton radiated an open welcome that promised acceptance and understanding.
He took her outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Lillian.”
She studied him. “I can see a little of your uncle Leo in you.”
Given how distantly connected they had been, he doubted that.
She linked arms with him. “Come inside. Salvia prepared a snack. She works here five days a week to clean and look after me as well as oversee the maids and gardeners. She’s very excited to meet you. We’ve talked of nothing else for days.”
As they walked toward the house, he was aware of her fragility. Her bones felt as hollow as a bird’s. He shouldn’t be surprised. She was over ninety.