Then he clicked off the voice recorder. “The newspaper would be willing to offer you a decent sum for the first look at the diaries.” He handed over a business card.
Lydia took it without looking, her fingers closing mechanically around the card. He thought she was for sale. The money could pay for the repairs.
“Have a think about it, Ms. Callaway.” He gave her a nod and then walked away.
Oh God, what kind of story was going to be printed? She glanced down to see which paper he was part of and her stomach sunk a little further. It wasn’t even one of the respectable dailies. Would he mention the diaries in the story? Of course he would… and then anyone who’d ever been to Callaway House would start to worry.
“Lydia Callaway?” a man said behind her.
She turned, bracing for more media, but instead an older man in a dark pinstripe suit stood there. A lawyer; he had that look, like he already knew the answers. She studied him for another second. Her mother hadn’t had the guts to turn up so she’d sent her lawyer.
“Yes.”
“I’m representing Helen Turner, your mother.” He pulled out a business card and handed it to her.
Lydia glanced at it, then smiled and she hoped it looked polite. “I’m not sure what you want; you must know my grandmother’s will is being handled by her solicitor.”
“Mrs. Turner just wanted you to be clear that as long as you don’t try to make contact or mention her name she will not contest the will.”
“Don’t worry, Gran was the only mother I ever needed or wanted. The only reason Gran left her anything was because she never stopped loving her daughter.” Lydia bit her tongue before she mentioned Helen wasn’t actually a Callaway. No, she’d keep that to herself and let Helen live thinking she was a Callaway. After the way Helen had treated Gran it was the least she could do. After all, Gran had never seen fit to tell Helen the truth so she was merely doing as Gran wanted, right?
“You plan to contest the will?” The lawyer looked surprised.
Lydia had already had this discussion with her lawyer, but she had no desire to change anything Gran had put on paper. A person’s last wishes should be respected. “No. I’m happy with the split. I hope she enjoys the cash.” Hope it keeps her warm and fills her with happy memories while I try and save the house.
God, she sounded bitter. She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No. I think we have an understanding. I’m sure my client will be relieved.”
“Good.” Lydia walked away before the man could say anything else. She walked up the road and to what had been the paved path to the familiar red door. Once inside she let herself close her eyes and sag against the wood where no one could see just how much this was taking out of her.
Around her the house was silent as if it paused to remember the woman who’d saved it the first time around. If she was going to save it this time, she needed Caspian’s valuation, and she needed the will to be finalized. She needed to make plans, none of which she could do at the moment.
Caspian would be back. He’d promised. He’d been gone one day already and today was half-gone. There wasn’t much longer to wait. And if he never came back, what should she do? Report him missing? Would they think she’d killed him? The ground around the house had been torn up, which looked even more suspicious.
Damn fairies.
Her lips curved in a half-smile. How quickly she was getting used to them?
How fast had she gotten used to having Caspian in her life?
While she knew plenty about the fairy side of his life, she actually didn’t know that much about his human side. She could organize the quotes, go past his shop, and see what she could find out.
With the afternoon sketched out she peeled herself off the door and smoothed her skirt, ready to put her ideas into action. At least if she was doing something she wouldn’t be wasting time on useless worrying about what was happening to him in Annwyn. Maybe she’d look that up on the Internet too.
She’d expected the King Street antique shop to be closed, but the door was open and the lights were on. Her heart gave a lurch. He wouldn’t have come home and not rung, would he? She parked around the back and saw his car was parked there. Hadn’t he taken it to the garage after it started making noises?
A small blue bird hopped around the asphalt as if looking for crumbs. Its feathers gleamed in the sunlight. The skin on her arms popped up in gooseflesh as she got out of her car. There was something very wrong going on. For a moment she considered just going home, but if he was here she wanted to know why he hadn’t called. Lydia rolled her shoulders and walked into the shop, half hoping Caspian was there, half hoping he wasn’t—because then she’d have to ask why he’d left her hanging and worrying. Then she hated herself for thinking the worst of him and for wishing he was still being held hostage by his fairy father.
A young man with long sandy hair was behind the counter. He looked up as the bell chimed.
Her heart chose that moment to stop and fumble before finding a beat. He looked like the kind of guy found in underwear ads. All cheekbone and casually tousled hair, his pale blue eyes gave him a wildness that most men would try and hide.
Words dissolved on her tongue. “Er… is Caspian here?”
“He went away for business. Can I help?” His voice was smooth and deep and he was a few years younger than she was. What was he—straight out of college? He walked over with too much grace. And yet… there was something about him that reminded her of Caspian. She just didn’t know what it was.
She shook her head as if trying to remember why she’d come here. “He didn’t mention an assistant.”
“It’s temporary.” The young man smiled. He was far too pretty.
Temporary—the young man was keeping the store going while Caspian was in Annwyn. This man was fairy.
Her heart bounced in her chest as she slid her hand into her handbag. It’s okay. He doesn’t know that you know.
She swallowed and tried not to panic. That was two fairies in as many days, not including the Greys. This man wasn’t a Grey. She was sure of that. He also didn’t have that same hungry air that Verden, the Hunter, had worn like a cloak.
Maybe this man knew something that could help. “Has he called, or said when he’ll be back?”
“He’ll be back before the three days is up.” The fairy considered her for a moment, his gaze flicking to her handbag.
Did he sense the iron? Surely not. Play it dumb. The dumb blonde act usually worked when all else failed. As much as she hated doing it, people fell for it—who was dumb?
“Oh, I was hoping he’d be back sooner.” She faked a smile. “Never mind.”
She took a step back. She shouldn’t have been so nosy and insisted on checking out his shop. If his car hadn’t been there she wouldn’t have stopped. Who was she kidding? She totally would have, just to see what he sold in here and what the price tags were.
The bells on the front door chimed again, but there was no one there. Another fairy, one she couldn’t see. How nice it was that this one had made himself visible.
“I’ll let Caspian know you stopped by. And you are?” He smiled as if inviting her to tell all.
Dylis’s warnings echoed in her ears. She had iron, she hadn’t agreed to anything, she hadn’t eaten or drunk anything he’d offered, and she certainly wasn’t going to give her full name. She could do this and get out of here with her soul intact.
“Lydia.”
“Lydia.” Her name rolled off his tongue like it was made of silver bells. “Bramwel at your service. I shall pass your message on.” He gave her a half-bow.