The surrounding lush trees had sheltered her since she’d first walked. The lake in the distance had seen her learn to swim and fish. The rolling hills had been her playground in her youth, her solace as she’d gotten older. Her mind conjured up memories of a time long ago when the picture before her had been bustling with employees, and horses, and visitors.
Not anymore. No matter how hard she tried.
Every time she’d thought she was making progress, yet another setback would stomp on her efforts. But this one was the crowning glory.
Now she zeroed in on Mason, surprised by his smug I won look. Obviously, he could remember a lot about this place, too. Part of her ached that he still hated her enough to find taking her home from her a worthy challenge. But a part that she didn’t want to acknowledge found a tiny bit of solace in the fact that she could still touch him in some way.
She’d never be able to admit all the ways he’d changed her, even after he’d been gone. The thought was enough to have her dragging her stoic expression back into place, covering her true emotions, all of the frustration and pain she’d dealt with since he’d left, since her father became ill.
She felt so alone.
“So when do we have to be out?” she murmured, struggling to be practical. She wouldn’t think right now about how it would feel, leaving the only home she’d ever known. That would lead to the breakdown she wanted to avoid.
Mason stepped fully into view, muscling his way around the bank manager. How he’d heard her, she wasn’t sure. “As soon as possible would be great. You can work that out with Clive here, but first, I’d like to look over my purchase, please.”
If she hadn’t been struggling already, his complete lack of compassion would have taken her breath away. EvaMarie looked at the smug man, seeing again the few traces of the boy she’d loved with all her heart, the boy she’d given her body to, even though she’d known she couldn’t keep him—and wished she had the courage to punch him in the face.
Mason’s crude satisfaction at besting EvaMarie and her family quickly transformed to dismay as he followed her into the house.
Bare. That’s the word that came to mind as he looked around the entryway and beyond. It was like a gorgeous painting stripped of all its details, all the way down to the first broad brushstrokes covering the canvas. The basic structure was still there. The silver-leafed cabinetry, the crystal doorknobs, the delicate ironwork. But a lot of the decorative china and porcelain figures and landscape paintings he remembered from that long ago day had disappeared, leaving behind bare shelves and walls that projected an air of sadness.
They had entered the house through a side door, the same one Mason had been let into fifteen years ago. The long hallway took them past the formal dining room and a parlor, then a couple of now empty rooms until they came to a sunken area facing the back of the house. Apparently the family used this as a cozier living room, if one could call the massive, hand-carved limestone fireplace and equally impressive Oriental carpeting “cozy.”
Upon closer inspection, the once pristine furniture had a few worn corners. But weirdly enough, what impacted Mason the most was the flowers. Not the ones in the overrun garden outside the wall of windows, but the ones in the vase on the table behind the sofa as they entered the room.
He vividly remembered the large sprays of flowers in intricate vases from his first visit, impressed as he had been with their color and beauty. They’d been placed every few feet in the hall and several in each of the rooms he’d glanced into and entered. But this was the first flower vase he’d seen today: a simple cut-glass one. Inside was an arrangement of flowers that looked like they’d been cut from the wild gardens. Pretty, but they were obviously not the designer arrangements of hothouse blooms he remembered.
Boy, the privileged had truly come down in the world.
Glancing over to the couple seated near the fireplace, he recognized EvaMarie’s parents, even though they’d aged. Mrs. Hyatt was dressed for visitors. Mason would expect nothing less, though her silk shirt and carefully quaffed hair denoted a woman who hadn’t faced the reality of her situation.
The pearls were a nice touch though.
“What’s going on?” Daulton asked, his booming voice still carrying enough to echo slightly on the eardrums. “Clive, why are you here?”
The bank manager shook hands with the couple, then stepped back a bit to allow EvaMarie closer. Mason had thought he’d want to see this part, to witness the lowering of the high-and-mighty Hyatts. After all, they’d orchestrated the moment that had brought his own family’s downfall.
Yet somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to close in, to gain an angle that allowed him to see EvaMarie’s face as she gave her family the news that their lives were about to change. Afraid he was softening, he forced himself to stand tall, knees braced for the coming confrontation. He forced himself to remember how his father must have felt that day when he’d had to tell Mason and his brother that he was fired from the position he’d held for ten years at the insistence of Daulton Hyatt.
That hadn’t been pretty either.
“Mom, Dad, um.” EvaMarie’s voice was so soft Mason almost couldn’t hear it. Yet he could feel the vibration in his body. EvaMarie’s voice was unique—even huskier than it had been when she was young. She’d grown into a classic Kathleen Turner voice that Mason was going to completely and totally ignore. “The bank has sold the estate.”
Mrs. Hyatt’s gasp was quickly drowned beneath Daulton’s curse. “How is that possible?” he demanded. “Clive, explain yourself.”
“Daddy, you know how this happened—”
“Nonsense. Clive...”
“Corporate took this account out of our hands, Mr. Hyatt. There’s nothing I can do now.”
“Of course there is. What’s the point of knowing your banker if he can’t help you now and again?”
“Daddy.” At least EvaMarie had enough spirit to sound disapproving. “Clive has gone out of his way to help us on more than one occasion. We have to face that this is happening.”
“Nonsense. I’m not going anywhere.” A noise echoed through the room, like a cane banging on the wooden floor, though Mason couldn’t see for sure. “Besides, who could buy something so expensive that quick?”
Clive turned sideways, giving Daulton a view of Mason where he stood. “This is Mason Harrington from Tennessee. He and his brother started the purchase proceedings this morning.”
“Tennessee?” Daulton squinted in Mason’s direction. Mason could feel his pulse pick up speed. “Why would someone from Tennessee want an estate in Kentucky?”
Rolling with that rush of adrenaline, Mason took a few strides into the center of the room. “I’m looking forward to establishing my own racing stables, and the Hyatt estate is perfect for our purposes, in my opinion.”
Mason could see the realization of who he was as it dawned on Daulton’s face, followed quickly by a thunderous rage. He was proud to see this glorious, momentous thing that Mason himself had ignited.
“I know
