A Year With the Millionaire Next Door Read online

  “Did I tell you that Joe is going to be lead counsel on this double murder trial in Chicago? City councilman’s wife killed him and his mistress. It’s going to be super high profile.”

  Good for Joe. Another legal feather in his cap full of feathers. The change of subject annoyed her more than usual. “Did you hear what I said, Dad?” she asked. “I said I was proud of this exhibit.”

  “I heard you. You’re proud.”

  “Very,” she said.

  “I’m glad. You should be proud of a job well done, no matter how small it may be.”

  God, did he have to diminish everything? Her head throbbed in response. Slowly, she began to pace the terrace perimeter, using the click of her heels on the concrete as a kind of meditation metronome. With each step eastward, she tried to steady her breathing.

  You’ll be chasing forever. Linus’s voice floated into her head. Was he right? Was she chasing something unobtainable? Ever since Linus said it, she’d been listening to her father’s voice more carefully. Little by little she saw the pattern. No matter what she accomplished, her father wasn’t impressed. Maybe it was because he disapproved of her having gone to London, and once she was back in New York, the negativity would ease up.

  Would it?

  There was one way to find out. She took a deep breath. “Can I ask you something, Dad?”

  “Sure,” he said. “What do you need?”

  “Nothing. I was wondering what you’d think if I decided to write a book. About Dame Agnes.”

  She could tell from the silence on the other end of the line that he didn’t think much of the idea at all. “Why do you want to write a book about her?”

  “Because she lived a fascinating life. You know how I’ve always liked history.”

  “Hey, you want to write a book on this woman, have at it. Personally, I would write a thriller or something that people might read. Always surprised me your brother didn’t do something along those lines. You might decide the same thing once you’re back in America.”

  “Actually...” Time for the test. “I was thinking of taking another year off. Peter Singh said I was welcome to stay here and keep an eye on Toffee in exchange for rent.”

  She wasn’t really thinking of time off. Sure, she’d felt a thrill when Peter made his offer—her first thought being that she could rekindle her relationship with Linus—but she’d already made her plans. The only reason she was floating the idea now was to gauge her father’s reaction.

  There was more silence on her father’s end of the line, followed by a loud, boisterous laugh. “That was a good one,” he said. “You really had me until you got to pet sitting.”

  “It’s not a joke, Dad. Peter really did offer me the penthouse so I could work on the novel.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not seriously considering it, right? You already lost a year on this pet-sitting thing.”

  “Estate management, Dad.” Did it really matter at this point? “And it’s a tempting offer.”

  “I didn’t spend all that money on your education so you could run away to Europe and pretend to be a novelist. It’s embarrassing enough that you couldn’t hack the pressure and had to take this leave of absence.”

  She didn’t burn out to embarrass him. In fact, the opposite. She’d burned out trying not to embarrass him.

  Interesting how either way it was about him. The fact she’d actually had a nervous breakdown didn’t seem to matter.

  Linus was right. “I’m never going to win with you, am I, Dad?” Not unless she was perfect, something she would never be. Eventually she’d stumble or fall short. It was inevitable.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re not going to be happy unless I’m a superstar like Camilla and Joe.”

  “Don’t knock your siblings. Your sister and brother worked very hard to get where they are.”

  “Yeah, and I worked hard, too. I busted my ass in grad school and at Mitchum, Baker, and all you did was tell me how Camilla and Joe were doing better.”

  “That’s because you needed the motivation. You always needed that extra push.”

  “No, Dad, I didn’t. I was doing the best I could.”

  “You can always do better. I tell the same thing to Joe and Camilla. Never settle. That’s always been your problem. You were willing to settle.”

  Stella shook her head. Her father couldn’t see it, couldn’t see the effort she put into trying to make him proud. That was because effort wasn’t a tangible outcome. You couldn’t brag about effort the way you could an award or accolade. Her father couldn’t hold up effort as evidence of his success.

  The question then was, did she really want to keep chasing what she could never catch, or did she want to chase something—and someone—that mattered?

  Did she even still have someone to chase?

  All this questioning was making her headache worse. She needed to lie down.

  “I’ve got to go, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Her father was in midsentence, but she didn’t care. She hung up and headed back to the western end of the terrace.

  “Hey, Toffee,” she announced on her way inside. “You want to lie on the bed with me? I’ll rub your belly.”

  The sofa where Toffee had been sleeping was empty. “Toffee?”

  Suddenly, a horrible sense of déjà vu gripped her. She’d left the terrace door open. Rushing outside, she searched under every piece of furniture and anything else a cat might find interesting.

  There was no sign of Toffee.

  She was afraid to look down. From this far up, Toffee would look no different than a speck of garbage. A big, furry, flat speck of garbage.

  Think positive, Stella. She hurried inside and across the hall.

  Thankfully, Linus was home, and he answered the door. Stella didn’t have time to register how surprised he looked, or how good. She rushed past him into his living room. “Toffee got out,” she said. “I need to check your terrace.”

  Linus followed her outside, and together they searched the entire length. No Toffee.

  Stella was going to be sick.

  “Don’t panic yet,” Linus said. His hand rubbed gentle circles between her shoulder blades. How was it after all these weeks and all her rejection, he was still comforting her? “Did you check everywhere in the apartment?”

  The apartment? “No. I saw the open door and assumed Toffee escaped.” Stressed out as she was, she didn’t think to look around the apartment.

  There was gentleness to his smile that made her heart skip. “Then maybe we should check there before we assume the worst,” he said.

  He said we. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to make you drop everything to help me.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’ll always be here if you need me.”

  If only he knew how wonderful those words made her feel. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she said. “Truly.”

  She didn’t have time to examine the emotion that crossed his face before he’d taken her hand and led her back to her front door. “Let’s go check your apartment,” he said.

  On the way, Stella crossed the fingers on her free hand and said a little prayer that her little Toffee Pudding had decided to hide in a bedroom instead of going outside.

  Her prayer was answered sooner than she expected. As they walked into the apartment, they saw Mrs. Churchill standing in the living room holding a furry white bundle.

  “Toffee!” Stella rushed to take the cat from the housekeeper’s arms.

  “Caught the little demon batting the bloody kaleidoscope around again,” Mrs. Churchill said.

  “Naughty kitty. You scared the daylights out of me.” Ignoring the cat’s struggle to escape, she buried her face in Toffee’s fur.

  Free from her charge, Mrs. Churchill closed the terrace door. “Can I a
sk you to keep the door closed? The breeze kicks up the dust.”

  Because dust. Stella couldn’t help but smile at the request. “Absolutely, Mrs. Churchill. My apologies. Would you mind getting this little mischief maker a chicken treat? It’s almost her snack time.”

  “Oh, sure. She causes trouble and we give her a treat. It’s like Dame Agnes never left. Come on, you. Let’s get you a chicken tender.”

  Once the housekeeper was down the hall, Stella turned to Linus. He looked so right standing in her living room, it hurt.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Seems like whenever I’ve got a problem, you show up to help me solve it.”

  “Everyone needs a wingman,” he said with a grin. “I’m glad I was home.”

  “So am I.”

  Now that he was here, she didn’t want him to leave. There was so much she wanted to say. Where did she begin?

  Maybe with three simple words. Would that be enough? A lump rose in her throat.

  “Linus, I...”

  “Hold that thought.”

  He disappeared out the door, only to reappear holding a small package. “I’d planned to come by and give you this as soon as I worked up the nerve.”

  Taking the box from him, she studied the gold foil wrapping paper. The box looked vaguely familiar, but she wasn’t sure why. “What is it?”

  “Something for New York. Open it and I’ll explain.”

  Her hands shook as she peeled off the paper. Inside lay a gold necklace with a charm in the shape of a ribbon.

  “It’s to remind you of our night in Avebury. You wished for happiness.”

  “I remember.” The lump in her throat had tripled, making the words hard to get out.

  “I meant what I said that night. All I want is for you to be happy. And if going back to New York so you can prove yourself is what makes you happy, then I’ll support you every step of the way.” Lifting the necklace from the box, he stepped behind her to fasten it around her neck. “I love you, Stella,” he whispered. “I’d rather support you in New York than live in London without you.”

  Had he said what she thought he said? Needing to see his expression, Stella whirled around. Eyes filled with love met hers.

  “Do you mean it?” she asked.

  “Every word.”

  The logjam in her chest broke open. Stella burst into tears. Deep, sobbing tears that wouldn’t stop.

  “Shh, it’s okay, love,” she heard Linus whisper.

  The arms she’d been missing desperately wrapped around her. She collapsed against his chest and cried like she’d never cried before.

  Linus loved her. He supported her, no matter what her choice. She didn’t deserve him, and he loved her anyway.

  How did she get so lucky?

  When she could breathe again, she kissed him. Passion wasn’t enough, though. She needed to speak the words.

  And so, when they finally broke apart, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and began. “I lied,” she said, earning a confused frown. “That night in Avebury. I didn’t really wish for happiness. I my real wish was to know my heart’s desire. I was afraid to admit it at the time, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t back away. Let me finish.” She gripped his hands to keep him close. “I still don’t know what it is I want to do with my life. Part of me wants to go to New York, and part of me wants to stay here in London with you and Toffee. But as confused as I am, there is one thing I know for certain, and that’s what you mean to me. I love you, Linus Collier. You are my heart’s desire. Without you, nothing else matters.”

  “You have me, Stella Russo. Always.”

  Stella smiled. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel less than. She felt loved, unconditionally, and she loved back with the same ferocity. The rest of her life would sort itself out in good time. She’d already found success.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Summer...again...

  “ARE YOU SURE about this?”

  Stella stared at the terminal sign for a couple beats before smiling at the man on her right. “I need to,” she said. “He and I need to talk face-to-face. Dr. Winslow says it’s the only way I’ll get closure.”

  “Well, I’m all for closure,” Linus replied, “so long as you want it.”

  “I do.”

  For the past several weeks, she and her father had been emailing, a conversation begun after Stella sent him a long, soul-baring letter. At first, her father responded with anger, explaining as he always did that he only wanted what was best for her. Little by little, with Linus’s support, Stella managed to tell him that she was going to live her own life, and if he didn’t find her accomplishments bragworthy enough, that was his problem.

  “He’s not going to like your decision.” He was referring to staying in London and writing a novel. Stella didn’t know if being a writer was going to be her lifelong passion, but right now, she was enjoying Agnes’s story too much to care.

  She managed a shrug. It still hurt, knowing she’d never really have her father’s approval, but she was learning to cope. Being loved for yourself made a lot of difference. For the first time in her life, she felt in control. She had a project she enjoyed and a man she adored. Not a day went by that she didn’t fall deeper in love with Linus.

  “With you by my side, I can handle anything,” she told him.

  Linus kissed her cheek. “Always, my love. Always.”

  “Then let’s do this.” She picked up the cat carrier that was by her feet. “Come on, Toffee. Sooner we get going, the sooner we can get home.”

  Although in all honesty, she thought, looking at Linus, she was already home.

  Coming next month

  A WILL, A WISH, A WEDDING

  Kate Hardy

  ‘Miss Grey changed her will three months ago,’ the solicitor confirmed, ‘and she was of sound mind when she made her will.’

  You could still be inveigled into doing something when you were of sound mind, Hugo thought. And Rosemary liked to make people happy. What kind of sob story had this woman spun to make his great-aunt give her the house?

  ‘There are conditions to the bequest,’ the solicitor continued. ‘Dr Walters, you must undertake to finish the butterfly project, turn the house into an education centre — of which she would like you to assume the position of director, should you choose — and re-wild the garden.’

  The garden re-wilding, Hugo could understand, because he knew how important his great-aunt’s garden had been to her. And maybe the education centre; he’d always thought that Rosemary would’ve made a brilliant teacher. But, if Rosemary had left the house to his father, as her previous will had instructed, surely she knew that her family would’ve made absolutely sure her wishes were carried out? Why had his great-aunt left everything to a stranger instead? And he didn’t understand the first condition. ‘What project?’

  ‘I’m editing the journals and co-writing the biography of Viola Ferrers,’ Dr Walters said.

  It was the first time he’d heard her speak. Her voice was quiet, and there was a bit of an accent that he couldn’t quite place, except it was definitely Northern; and there was a lot of a challenge in her grey eyes.

  Did she really think he didn’t know who Viola Ferrers was?

  ‘My great-great-great-grandmother,’ he said crisply.

  Her eyes widened, so he knew the barb had gone home. This was his family and his heritage. What right did this stranger have to muscle in on it?

  ‘Miss Grey also specified that a butterfly house should be built,’ the solicitor continued.

  Rosemary had talked about that, three years ago; but Hugo had assumed that it was her way of distracting him, giving him something to think about other than the gaping hole Emma’s death had left in his life. They’d never taken it further than an idea and a sketch or two. />
  ‘And said butterfly house,’ the solicitor said, ‘must be designed and built by you, Mr Grey.’

  Continue reading

  A WILL, A WISH, A WEDDING

  Kate Hardy

  Available next month

  Copyright © 2020 Kate Hardy

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