Cold Deception (His Agenda 4): Prequel to the His Agenda Series (8 page)

He made it clear it would take time for him to open up to the idea of having another child. Luckily for him, the thought of getting pregnant again and possibly losing another child was too much for Lacey. To distract herself, she had started to talk about working again. But that was one thing Terence refused to discuss.

As he was about to start the engine, his phone rang. He grunted and picked up. Dudley Wimmer—his boss at Dudley Repairs & Plumbing—spoke on the other end. He had been away from work for a week to recover from eye surgery. It had been bliss to have him away. Terence hated being told what to do. The only thing that helped him through the workday was reminding himself that it was temporary. One day he would be in control of his whole life, his destiny. One day, he would give his wife the kind of life she deserved. For now, he would swallow his pride and do what he had to do.

“Stop what you’re doing. An important customer has a leakage problem. I want you to head there immediately.”

“I’m on my way home,” Terence said. “Chuck is still at the office, why not call him?”

“Can’t reach Chuck. Turn around and get your ass to Dale Boulevard.” Dudley spelled out the complete address, which Terence jotted on a takeaway restaurant receipt, along with the phone number. His blood was pumping by the time they hung up. The customer he was going to pay a visit was Deloris Holt, one of their wealthiest customers—the kind of customer Dudley usually took care of himself. If he weren’t bedridden, he would probably be over there now.

Terence started the engine, his whole body vibrating with anticipation. He was about to get a taste of how the other side lived.

***

The Holt Estate on Dale Boulevard made Terence’s jaw drop. He climbed out of the car on unstable legs and pressed a button to be let in. The gates yawned open, giving him a view of the English-inspired mansion. He held his breath as he climbed out of his car again and went to the front door, where an old woman, possibly in her late eighties, waited to let him in. As majestic as the house was, she was the opposite. Her skin was pale and pasty, though she had the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. She wore a robe so long, he was surprised she was able to move without tripping.

“Deloris Holt.” She shook his hand. Hers was small and frail. “Thank you for coming by so quickly.” When she spoke, Terence detected a whiff of vodka on her breath. His eyes took in the teacup she was holding. If there was really tea inside, he was sure it was mixed with the hot stuff. The cup was just a cover. He also noted her carefully hidden slur. She was a professional drunk.

“Terence Pirone. Nice to meet you.” He squeezed her hand, careful not to grip it too hard lest he break it.

“Terence Pirone.” Something flashed across her face as she looked up at him. “That name sounds familiar. Now where did I hear it?” She placed a finger on the tip of her nose. “If there’s one thing old age hasn’t robbed me of, it’s the ability to remember names.”

Shit. Outside his house he usually used a fake name—Scott Spiro. The last thing he needed was for someone to connect him to his past, and now he had almost blown his own cover. In an attempt to do damage control, he smiled at the woman and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure there are many people out there who share my name.”

“But rarely in Serendipity. This town is too small.” She took a sip from her cup and her lips parted in a smile. Her teeth were extremely white. “Where are my manners? Please come in, Terence.” She opened the door wider and Terence walked in. He had to control himself from showing on his face the effect the interior of the estate was having on him. He followed Deloris down the entry hall, past pieces of furniture worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, if not more. The house was so large it couldn’t have fewer than five bedrooms. He forced himself to remain focused on Deloris. He would have a discreet look around the property later.

“You have a lovely home.” It was the kind of house one had to acknowledge. It would be an outright crime not to praise it.

“Thank you.” She halted in a living room that was almost the size of his whole house. “It won’t be mine much longer. After fifty years, it will end up belonging to somebody else.” Her last words were almost whispered. She took a long drink from her cup.

Terence’s curiosity rose to the surface, refusing to be held down. “You’re selling?”

“If I could keep it, I would. My nephew, Troy, thinks the place is too large for one person to live in. He wants to ship me off to a senior home. Says someone should take care of me around the clock. He thinks I’m incapable of taking care of myself. Especially now that…” She stopped as if realizing she’d said too much. “Anyway, that’s why I need to fix up a few things. So much to fix around here.”

“What would you like me to start with?” Terence asked, remembering his reason for being here. He did agree with the nephew—Deloris looked like she was about to fall apart. It couldn’t be safe for an old woman to live alone in such a big house. But he figured one of the reasons she wasn’t so enthusiastic to go to a home had to do with the teacup in her hands. In a senior home, they would oversee her every move, including what she drank and ate.

“The master bedroom. I haven’t slept there since my husband died.” She drained her cup but kept her fingers tight around it. “I was doing a quick check of the house this morning. I went into the bathroom and noticed the walls were damp. There are all kinds of things growing on them.”

“Sounds like there might be a leak somewhere,” Terence said, following her down a corridor that didn’t seem to end. “I’ll have a look and let you know what I find.”

Deloris pushed open a heavy door and invited him into what truly deserved to be called a master bedroom, with antique furniture, chandeliers, and expensive, heavy curtains. But there was something else. It smelled old. Deloris remained in the doorway.

“The bathroom is through that door.” She pointed at a door on the far side of the room. “I’m afraid I can’t bring myself to enter this room twice in one day. My husband died in here, you know.”

“I understand,” Terence said. “I won’t be long.”

She nodded. “I need another cup of tea. Come downstairs when you’re done.”

Terence went into the bathroom, which had all the amenities of a luxury spa, including a glass-encased shower that could easily fit three people, a marble bench, nineteenth-century Italian mirrors, a mosaic tile floor, and a freestanding bathtub. The luxury almost made him forget why he was there, but he pulled himself together, instantly spotting what tainted the perfection. Hanging in the air were the smells of mold and old water. Not only was the paint peeling away from the wall closest to the shower, but the ceiling sagged. His practiced eye detected the telltale bubbles caused by accumulated water. He spent the next few minutes taking a careful look at the damage and then picked up his toolbox.

He went downstairs to find Deloris and her teacup in the den, on a chaise lounge, a woven blanket covering her legs.

A gaunt-looking man in a custom-made suit, with slicked-back hair and a sleek briefcase at his feet, stood looking down at her. They seemed to be having a serious conversation, and Terence felt uncomfortable disturbing them. But he’d come here to do a job. He knocked before entering, and as he did, the man pinned him with eyes too small for his face. Deloris waved Terence over.

“Mr. Pirone, this is my nephew, Troy. Troy, this is the plumber I called to have a look at the bathroom. I know you wanted to call your own plumber, but I’ve been using Dudley Repairs & Plumbing for years. They always do a good job. I don’t see a point in hiring some company I don’t know.”

Troy’s features tightened before he turned to look at his aunt. “What did you find and how long are the repairs going to take?” Even though he was no longer looking at Terence, Terence knew the questions were for him. What a piece of shit.

But Terence kept his annoyance in check as he answered. “There’s a leak somewhere in the bathroom wall. I’ll have to rip out the drywall in order to look for it and fix it. I can get started tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“How long will it take?” he asked again.

“A couple of days.” It wouldn’t take him more than two, three days at the most. “The leak will have to be found and fixed, then I’ll come back to repair the drywall.”

Terence felt the urge to add an extra day or two. Being in the Holt Estate felt so right, so comfortable… as if this was the kind of life he was destined for.

“The cost?” Troy turned to him and raised an eyebrow, as though expecting Terence to quote an exorbitant price.

“I’ll talk to my boss and document everything. I’ll send you an estimate tomorrow. It will include the cost of the material and the labor.”

“Fax it to my office.” Troy held out a glossy business card and Terence peered at it. A lawyer.

“I want it first thing tomorrow morning.” Troy kissed his aunt quickly on the cheek and turned to leave. “Take your medicine, Aunt Del.” He pushed past Terence, not bothering to say goodbye.

Once Troy was gone, Terence smiled at the old woman. Deloris’s skin looked rumpled by anger. She scoffed. “He thinks he can tell me what to do. Suddenly he cares, now that I’m nearing death’s door. He’s such a fool. He thinks if he—” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’m running my mouth again. When will you be here tomorrow?”

“About seven? Would that be okay?”

“Anytime is fine. Don’t have any place to be, anyway… but the hospital. I’ll still be in bed when you get here, but my housekeeper will open the door for you.”

Terence got back into his car and drove out of the estate. During his trip home he called Dudley to give him a report, and then he called Lacey. His heart sank when he told her he wouldn’t be able to make it for dinner. He had to return to the office to document everything and send the price quote to Troy, so it would be at his office first thing in the morning.

The way Troy had looked at him, talked to him, had cut through Terence like a blade. It reminded him that he was living a life he didn’t want. He wouldn’t be a plumber or car mechanic forever. One day, the tables would turn. Or he’d just have to turn them himself.

Chapter Nineteen

Lacey

The first crack in their marriage occurred with the loss of their son. They had named him Warren, so Lacey would have something to hold on to.

Though she was beginning to get over the loss—as much as she could expect to—her need to work was weighing on her more than ever. Terence still objected to her getting a job as strongly as he had the first day she had brought it up.

But the thought of starting again, of making something of herself, of having a purpose, was what got her out of bed every morning. She could ignore many of her desires, sweep them under the carpet so Terence would not see them, but the need for purpose in her life was too strong to squash. She had no choice but to broach the subject again with him. She would be putting their marriage at risk, but it was a risk she had to take.

Their marriage had survived the death of a child. She hoped it was strong enough to make it through a few more changes. She was not ready to have another baby, not yet, but she wanted to be able to work again. Almost as much as she wanted to bring her son back to life. She had no choice but to pursue it. This need was stronger than her. Or maybe it only felt that way because she was being denied it.

When Terence walked into the kitchen after a long day of repairing some rich client’s bathroom leak, Lacey was ready. Inside, she trembled.

As usual, at the sight of her, he broke into a smile and drew her into his arms to kiss her. That initial attraction, the intense sexual energy they had shared had never waned, even through the pain. It was the one thing that had perhaps kept them from drifting apart, from drowning.

Lacey had prepared a romantic dinner for them and laid it out on the kitchen table. She was far from an amazing cook, but Terence loved her food, and the delight on his face every time he tasted it never stopped making her glow. Tonight she had cooked spice-rubbed pork chops with vegetables, a recipe she’d found online, and had opened a bottle of wine. It had been a while since she created a romantic evening for them. But today she had an ulterior motive.

“You are such an amazing wife.” He nuzzled her ear. “This is a wonderful surprise. Thank you.”

They ate in semi-silence, communicating here and there but mostly with a touch or a glance. She watched his face, saw the pleasure as he enjoyed the food, the pressure of the day crumbling off his features.

After dinner they settled down on the couch and watched TV, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Terence told her about his day. He said the work at the Holt Estate was taking longer than expected and would be completed in two more days. He asked her about hers. She didn’t have much to tell him. She’d done what she did most days—pretty much nothing.

She’d taken a walk, watched daytime TV, met up with Lilliana for a coffee, and cleaned the house from top to bottom, except for the basement, which was still off-limits. Terence never went down there, and he asked her not to either. Every time Terence told her not to do something now, she felt as if the invisible piece of rope wrapped around her neck tightened a little further. She loved her husband more than anything, but he had all the say in their marriage. How much longer would she be able to call him anything but controlling?

“Honey, we need to talk. You know what about.” She pulled away from him so she could look into his eyes.

She watched as the earlier warmth cooled from his eyes and he folded his arms, making a decision before she had even said a word.

She stood and went to the window. Somehow the distance made her feel braver, stronger. “I have to work. I need to.”

“Please don’t start.” He stood and walked over to her, pulling her close. “I’m exhausted. I came home to be with my gorgeous wife, not to hear about this work nonsense. My wife doesn’t get her hands dirty.”

She turned around slowly. “What if that’s what I want? It would make me so happy. I feel as if for two years I’ve been surrounded by a thick, black cloud. I feel helpless. I need this to make me feel alive again, to feel important.”