The Seacroft: a love story (Paines Creek Beach Book 2)

The Seacroft

A love story

Paines Creek Beach, Book 2

By Aaron Paul Lazar

The Seacroft: a love story
by Aaron Paul Lazar

This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Aaron Paul Lazar.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

First Edition, August, 2015

Cover Art by Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design

www.bookcoverbydesign.co.uk

Published in the United States of America.

Dedication

To my dear mother, who said she wasn’t shocked by my racy love stories, because, “I was married to a French lover!” That always made me laugh, cringe a little, and then keep writing about love in all its aspects. Thank you for everything, Mum. ‘Til we meet again.

Chapter 1

Vivian stood before the antique mirror, frowning at her new glasses. Although she’d tried to pick out something suitable for her new job as personal assistant to Ms. Uvi Polansky, she’d goofed. Again. These black-framed monstrosities were the best she could afford, but now she really regretted listening to the salesgirl who said they were cool.

“Ugly, ugly, ugly.”
She tucked in her white blouse, straightened her navy blue skirt, and smoothed her bangs, noticing at the last minute that her ponytail was crooked. She sighed with disgust.

Grabbing a brush off the vanity, she yanked off the hair tie and began to furiously brush her dark hair, smoothing it into a tight ponytail.

“Better.” She reluctantly nodded approval in the mirror, stopping when a sudden bang sounded from the grounds of The Seacroft, the mansion by the sea she now called home.

Crossing over the wide pine floorboards in her new quarters, she skirted the four poster bed—complete with a lacey canopy—and pulled back the gold velvet drapes, peering outside. The windows needed a good cleaning, and she really couldn’t see well through the old circular impressions in the antique glass. Unlatching the cast iron lock, she flung open the window and peered down at the pickup truck that had just backfired.

Cody.

Of course.

She should have known. That new handyman who’d been two years ahead of her in high school—and who’d never even said hello to her in the hallways—was everywhere these days. He’d been hired a few days after she started her new job several weeks ago, and now she couldn’t seem to avoid bumping into him at every turn.

The guy was magazine-cover gorgeous. Every day he’d been shirtless while cleaning the pool, trimming hedges, and mowing that endless lawn that was bigger than three football fields. He flexed those muscles every time she passed. She tried hard not to stare.

But once in a while, she let herself dream. And she had to admit, he was gorgeous.

Okay, she had to face it. He was more than gorgeous, he was dark-haired, dreamy-eyed, and fit. No, he hadn’t noticed her in high school, and he sure as heck wouldn’t look at her now.

She heaved a sigh and shut the window. The heat had already wafted in, and she knew it was going to be a scorcher. Mid-July in Brewster, on Cape Cod, could be brutal. She thought back to the long, blistering days last summer when she’d nursed her brother back to health in their old tin-can trailer. What she would have given for a window air conditioner. But they couldn’t afford it. Martin had beaten the cancer, with Vivian’s help. His hair had started growing back and he’d been gaining a bit of energy, too.

And then his brain had decided it was enough. An aneurism burst inside his skull and had killed him instantly.

Why?

He’d been only twenty-three.

Twenty-three!

Why had God dangled recovery in front of them? She’d quit art school, staying home a full year to help him. They’d been so hopeful about finally being able to put all the sickness and fear behind them. To start living again. To dare to dream of a future where they could try to find their soul mates, get married, and have families.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. And she was desperately, miserably alone.

Now she had looming medical bills to worry about. She knew her mother, Mirella Wood, would never be able to help. The youngest guest at the Shady Pines home, Mirella had developed early onset Alzheimer’s several years ago.

She’d have to work hard for the rest of her life to pay off the hospital and to keep her mother at Shady Pines. No more dreams of college for her.

Her cell phone chirped. She slid it out of her pocket and glanced at the text from Uvi. “Can you fetch me the paper?”

She huffed and snorted a laugh.
Fetch me the paper?
Like I’m some kind of dog?

Well, at least she didn’t have to answer to a bell like the servants in her new favorite television show,
Downton Abbey
. She covered a smile and typed a quick response. Funny, how she compared herself to those characters, thinking of her life of servitude now, and how it would always be so.

She tapped the send button on her brand new iPhone—provided by her employer, of course—and like the good little domestic that she was, hurried down the elegant spiral staircase and out the grand front door. At the bottom of the marble steps, she flew along the white oyster shell driveway to retrieve the paper from the roadside mailbox. Suddenly she stopped, trying to adjust to the heat that enveloped her like a heavy, wet blanket.

It was only eight in the morning, and it had to be ninety degrees outside. No fresh seaside breeze cooled her brow today from Paines Creek Beach, the bayside beach near Uvi’s mansion, and no breakers whitened the blue-green waters. She could see the shore from here, and noted that the ocean was unusually still, dead calm. Like her brother’s eyes when he’d passed.

Oh, how she missed him. He was all she’d had. And
just like that
, he’d been snatched away.

She straightened, pushed aside the painful memories, and slowed her steps to a more measured pace as she headed down the long driveway toward the mailbox for their daily paper,
The Cape Cod Times
.  

The growl of the John Deere Gator came up behind her just as she reached the mailbox. She tried to ignore it while calmly retrieving the paper.

Cody called to her. “Hey, Viv. Wanna ride back? It’s wicked hot.” He smiled at her from the driver’s seat, indicating the free seat beside him.

She flushed—of course—and stammered. “Um. Yes. Thank you very much.” Carefully, she slid up onto the hot, yellow seat and held on tight.

“It’s a scorcher,” Cody said, stomping on the gas pedal.

“It is,” she said, looking straight ahead.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

She glanced sideways at him, trying not to look at his bare chest. “Guess not.”

He laughed, turned the vehicle in a tight, fast circle, and gunned it again. “This’ll give us a breeze,” he laughed. “Cool us down.”

“Hey!” She gripped the bar tighter, sliding sideways.

He slowed the machine, grinning slyly at her. “Did I scare you?”

“No.” She compressed her lips and looked toward the sea, avoiding his eyes.

“Okay,” he said, and proceeded to do it again, this time even faster than the last.

She was ready for it, though. She held on with a death grip.
Geez. It was almost like he was showing off or something. But more likely, he was teasing her.

When they approached the porch, she noticed Uvi watching them from her bedroom window on the second floor. Like a beautiful wooden figurehead from an ancient ship, her exquisite features appeared regal, as if she were a queen at the top of her turret gazing down on the outside world.

She wished, once again, that she could someday be such a beauty, a woman to make men quake in their proverbial boots. Sighing with resignation, she waited for Cody to park the vehicle.

Chapter 2

Cody stopped the Gator and looked up, waving to his employer. Uvi raised one finger to beckon him inside, quickly disappearing behind the lace curtain.

He wondered for the millionth time about the enigmatic woman. Rumor was she had written volumes of exceptional poetry, had even won the Pulitzer Prize for her work. But the exotic beauty rarely showed herself in public these days, and had few visitors. He’d seldom seen her up close. Just that short job interview in her darkened library a few weeks back, and the occasional wave from the window. Most of their communication was done through texting on the fancy new iPhone she’d given him.

He didn’t understand why she kept to herself in that big old place. She was obviously wealthy, and could travel the world if she wanted. Heck, she could go to Paris or Fiji, Alaska, or even Bora Bora. Yet, she stayed secreted away in this mansion by the sea. It was so strange.

He turned to Vivian, gesturing up at Uvi’s bedroom window. “Guess I’m being summoned by the grand dame.”

She slid off the Gator and smoothed her skirt, avoiding his eyes. “Looks like it.” Tucking the paper under one arm, she said, “Um. Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” He wondered why she seemed to struggle so much just to have an everyday conversation like this one. Why was she so nervous around him, like a frightened bird? Of course, he probably hadn’t made it very easy on her, always teasing her like he did. Maybe he should ease up a little, give her a break. He hadn’t meant any harm. It was just his way. Always the joker, he thought.
That’s me.

 She was a pretty little thing, under those big glasses. He imagined her hair loose on her shoulders, thought it would look better hanging free rather than pulled back in that tight ponytail. He noticed she had a really nice figure under the austere outfit she wore like a uniform. She seemed to be hiding from the world, like Uvi, but in her own unique way.

He turned off the Gator, shrugged into his denim shirt, and hopped up onto the steps beside her. “So, you from around here, Viv?”

She flushed and bit her lip. “Yes.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

She stared at him, and for a minute, he got the impression of someone not-so-timid behind those glasses.

“Same place as you.”

He stopped, fastening the last button. “Whoa. Wait a minute. Really? What’s your last name?”

“Wood. I was a few years behind you.”

“That would explain it, then.” He grinned, glad for the fact. If she’d been in his class and he’d forgotten her, he would’ve felt bad. Suddenly, the light dawned. “Wait. Did you say
Wood
? Were you related to Martin Wood?”

Her eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Yes. He was my big brother.”

He reached for her arm. “Oh, I’m so sorry. That was terrible what happened to him. I used to watch him play football. He was amazing.”

“Yes.” She swiped at her eyes. “He was.”

His pocket buzzed and he glanced at the screen.
Great.
Another text from Uvi.
He shrugged. “Oops. Better get a move on. Mizz P wants me up there. Pronto.”

They hurried upstairs to her doorway, arriving at the same time. Uvi sat up in bed, her iPad on her lap.

“Your paper,” Vivian said.

Uvi waved her in. “Put it right on the nightstand. Thank you, dear.”

The girl did as instructed, murmured something Cody couldn’t hear, and backed out, walking sedately down the hall without turning back.

Uvi smiled and gestured to him. “Come in, Cody.”

He shuffled inside, suddenly aware of the sand and wet grass coating his work boots. “Yes, Mizz P.”

He’d never seen the inside of her boudoir before, and felt a bit sheepish about walking right in there. Sitting against a mountain of pillows in her bed, the woman was dressed in a pink satin peignoir set that clung to her figure like icing on a sculpted cake. He tried hard not to stare at her, but she was absolutely the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“I’ve told you before. Please call me Uvi.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t call me ma’am. I hate that. Makes me feel old, for heaven’s sake.”

“Okay.”

“I'm not that much older than you, Cody. I’m thirty-three.”

He lifted his eyes to her, unsure what to say. Uvi was right, she wasn’t that much older than him. That wasn’t the point. The point was, she was his boss.