Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
When I headed toward the hallway leading down to my office, a flickering light on the terrace caught my eye. I noticed a small form wrapped in a blanket on one of the loungers.
I dumped my bag on the kitchen table and opened the terrace door. She glanced up at me, a weary look in her eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh inside, knowing what I was about to share with her.
“Okay, spill.” She didn’t like surprises or waiting for them, apparently.
“I made a trip to Monroeville.”
She blinked at me, her mouth open wide. “What? Are you kidding?” She squinted, having changed from weary to disbelief to possible anger.
“I have proof. Right here.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a brochure. She grabbed it out of my hand.
“Wait.” She stood up from the lounger, her blanket falling to the ground. “I can’t believe this.” She shook the glossy covered paper at me.
“I walked the infamous Bronze Sculpture Trail around the town square. Here’s a picture of Truman Capote’s hat and glasses.” I showed her the actual photo on my phone, and then another one. “Here’s the bronze gavel for Harper Lee’s How to Kill a Mockingbird.”
The bronze trail was an amazing tribute to the writers from Monroeville. The town was an incubator for creativity.
“You really were there?”
“Yes, Maggie. And I finally met your mother.”
“You did? I just talked to her tonight after Esmé crashed. She didn’t say a word.”
“Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold. Winter’s coming soon.” I placed an arm around her shivering shoulders, leading her back inside.
“What were you doing there? And why do you have that goofy smile on your face?” I laughed. She’d seen right through me.
“Let’s sit on the couch.” We’d replaced the expensive piece of shit sectional I’d had with a couch that was so soft; it’s almost more comfortable than our bed.
“Okay, but you’d better start at the beginning, leaving nothing out.” She sat facing me with her legs crisscrossed.
“You know we’ve been talking about starting over. Neither of us are hot on Manhattan, and I’m okay at Greenwich, but it’s still a place of memories from a time I’d like to forget.”
“I know, Lucas.” She rubbed over my forearm, taking my hand in hers. “What about your mother? We can’t leave her in that large house alone.”
“Exactly. I spoke with her doctors. They think she’d be okay to move from Connecticut, so long as she has access to good health care.”
“But to where?” She’d gone back to her weary-eyed look. “Like Monroeville? Don’t tease me.”
“I’m dead serious. I even met with a realtor today. Mrs. Flora Jenkins, your mother’s friend.” Maggie nodded, her eyes kind of blank. Shock, I guessed. “There’s this old farm off Highway 41. It has a beautiful old mansion. Needs a shit-ton of work, but I can afford it.”
“Oh my God. That’s the old Turner farm.” She was smiling now, finally realizing I meant business. “Old man Turner died a few years ago. No kids or family close. Just a nephew in Atlanta. So, it’s for sale?”
“It was.” I waited a second before I told her the next part. It would be a hit or a miss. There was no in-between. “I actually bought it today. There’s a great room for an office upstairs where I can write. It looks out over a creek. And the grass-covered farmlands are perfect for raising your beloved alpacas.”
“You sneaky, handsome jerk.” Maggie’s smile nearly broke her face. “I can’t believe you.”
She plopped herself down lengthwise on my lap. I cradled her in my arms, looking at the woman I’d give up the world for. Screw Manhattan. I wanted to make love to her in our mansion somewhere in the hills of Alabama, crazy animals and all.
“I can’t believe this. You bought the old farm? Like you have a receipt for it and all?” She was flipping out, confirming I’d made the right decision.
“The deed should be mailed in two weeks. I bought it under the name Magnolia Farms, LLC. We can always change it, but there were magnolia trees planted all over the grounds. And since it’s going to be yours for raising your favorite animals, I thought you’d like to have your name on it.”
“You’re the sweetest man in the world. And your mom with us all the time will be magical for her and Esmé. And—oh my God! I have to call my mother.”
“She’s waiting for you.” Maggie raised off my lap, and I tapped her ass as she walked away to grab her phone from the terrace.
She brought it back inside and starting screaming in glee as she talked to her mother. I worried about Ms. Talbot’s eardrums at this point.
After a few minutes, Maggie hung up, then ran toward me and jumped into my arms, hugging me around my neck.