chance.
Of course, that was before the kiss. But that was beside the point.
“Hello?” Vera said.
“Yes,” Roxie said, giving herself a quick, discerning shake. “Sorry. Yes, I am in the market for a new place.”
“That’s great,” Vera said. “My husband, Constantine, and I are in the real estate business. We own a dozen or so homes in Baldwin County. Several of them are in the Fairhope and Point Clear area. Most are lease houses with a twelve-month contract. If you’re interested, we could arrange a few showings. I understand you’re a busy woman. We would be happy to meet you at your convenience.”
Her heart began to beat a bit faster at the possibilities. New Year. New Roxie. This was exactly what she needed to get her life back on track. “I’m interested,” Roxie told Vera. “Are you free late this afternoon?”
“Sure. Does five thirty work for you?”
“It does,” Roxie said. She’d have to rush from the Hamilton wedding. It didn’t start until three thirty, but she had her assistant, Yuri, to fall back on. And Adrian would be there to help. “Text me an address and I’ll meet you.”
“Fabulous,” Vera cheered. “I’m looking forward to meeting the woman who didn’t sleep with my son.”
Roxie ended the call on a nervous chuckle. She stared at the screen for a moment, wondering if she should give Byron a call. As a thank-you.
No, Roxie. Nix the Perseus and Andromeda.
“Come on, Rox,” James said. “Let’s get goin’.” As she hopped in, he flipped Olivia and Adrian a salute, shouted “Race you!” and with a mash of the accelerator, they were off.
* * *
“THE ONE ON Nichols wasn’t so bad.”
“None of the Strongs’ houses have been bad so far,” Roxie pointed out as she steered her Lexus through light evening traffic. “What I’m looking for, though, is something a little more... I don’t know. Special.”
In the passenger seat, Briar Savitt nodded. “You’re waiting for something to jump out and take a bite out of you.”
Roxie’s lips twitched. “If Liv were here, it’d be Euphemism City. Though you’re right. I want something I can be excited about coming home to.”
At the sound of a squeal from the backseat, Briar turned and smiled at her daughter, Harmony, who was strapped into a car seat. “Almost there, baby girl.” She groped for a toy Harmony had dropped on the floor and stretched to hand it back to her. “What do you think of Vera?”
“She’s marvelous,” Roxie said and meant it. “I don’t know why I was worried.” She had asked Briar to tag along. Vera and her husband, Constantine, had invested in Briar’s bed-and-breakfast. The Strongs and Savitts were on first-name terms, and Roxie had hoped that having Briar around would help make the introduction to Byron’s mother less uncomfortable after her awkward outburst over the phone.
In the end, Roxie hadn’t had anything to worry about. Just as Briar had assured her, Vera was just as easy to get along with as Byron. Though hearing Byron’s name in conjunction with the word easy made images come to Roxie’s mind that would’ve made Olivia proud...
“Serendipity Lane?” Briar said as they passed the sign. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s nice,” Roxie acknowledged as they both took a look at the neighborhood. “Very nice.” The area was clean and heavily residential. The trees were aged behemoths. Roxie could tell the homes were older. Most had been treated to modern face-lifts.
Vera’s SUV pulled to the curb behind a mailbox with the numbers 77 painted on it. “This must be the last one,” Roxie said.
“Ooh,” Briar said as Roxie parked behind Vera. “Would you look at that?”
Roxie’s jaw dropped as she peered through the passenger window at the grand white Victorian. All the houses on the street were nice. But this one... It was like a celestial winter faerie palace, only more homey than extravagant. The front yard was large, rectangular. A picket fence framed annual springtime beds.
High on the second floor, there was a big round stained-glass window. The last light of day shined on it, making the wavy iridescent streaks of the orange sun hanging low over azure blue waves glow.
The breath rushed out of her. Her voice was scant when she finally found words. “Holy wow. It’s like utopia.” There was a wraparound porch with a large cushioned lay-back swing. She could imagine herself lounging there in the summer. She could hear the wind blowing through those ancient trees and the ice clinking against the sides of her tea glass.
The vision was so tangible, she had to blink to bring herself back to the wintry present. She barely remembered to grab her purse before joining Vera on the sidewalk, Briar right behind her with Harmony on her hip.
“What do you think?” Vera asked. The woman didn’t look old enough to be the mother of a thirtysomething-year-old man. Though one thing Byron and Vera did have in common was their striking good looks. With dark hair flowing down her back in waves, a tailored red dress cloaking her hourglass figure and towering Mary Jane heels, she looked more like one of the glossy coanchors of Entertainment Tonight than the low-key small-town real estate agent that she was. “I think we saved the best for last.”
“You aren’t kidding,” Roxie murmured. “I’ve always had a thing for Victorians.”
“Wait until you get a load of this one,” Vera advised as she rooted through her purse for the key. She led them up the sidewalk to the porch steps. “It’s a family house. Built in 1949 by Con’s uncle for his wife when he brought her over from Greece to live out the rest of their lives here.”
“How sweet,” Briar said, peering through the glass surrounding the front door as Vera bowed to unlock it. “I love houses with a story behind them.”
Vera swung the door open and turned back to them. “After you, dears.”
“Thank you.” Roxie stepped over the threshold. The flooring struck her first. It was spectacular. Walnut. There was crown molding. No doubt the interior had been updated within the last ten to fifteen years. The small cut-glass chandelier over the entry caught her eye. Drops of foggy sea glass dangled from the fringes. She had to stop herself from touching it.
“From the island of Santorini,” Vera explained, “where Athena and her sister, Con’s mother, immigrated from after the Second World War.”
Beyond the foyer, she caught sight of the staircase in the living room. It arched to the right, and curlicue ironwork made up the banister. “Oh, my word.” She lowered her voice in automatic reverence. “Vera, this is stunning!”
“It doesn’t even have that old house smell,” Vera boasted. “There’re three bedrooms, an office, two full baths and one half bath. There’s a full laundry service in the basement. The furnishings are optional. You can get rid of everything, keep everything, or pick and choose what you need until you get the desired result. Not to mention the detached garage. There is a tenant in the loft above...”
“That’s
