“I bet I’ve sold twenty just like it.”
There was so much contempt in her voice that Alastair laughed. “Just some advice—don’t mention the Stewart house to your new boss.”
“Tayla?”
“Yes. My mother promised to let Tayla sell the house. But when she got there with the paperwork, Mother had already sold it to your aunt. The entire purchase price—which, by the way, was a healthy seven figures—had been wired into my mother’s bank account. And all the papers had been signed.”
“And your mother got out of paying Realtor fees,” Kate said.
“She did. It seems that when your aunt wants something, she goes after it.”
“Or her manager does.”
“I didn’t know she had one,” Alastair said.
“I’m not sure she does, but according to my mother, Aunt Sara isn’t in good health, so I assume she has people to handle those sorts of things. Maybe this guy Jack...” She trailed off in thought again, worried for her aging aunt.
“Sorry to hear that about her health. Too bad my mother isn’t nearby to give her tennis lessons. But do let me know what you need.” Alastair reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell pho
ne. “Maybe you’d give me your phone number?”
Kate tapped it in for him, he sent her a text and it was done.
His eyes grew serious. “I mean what I say. If you need anything, call me at any time. I never turn my phone off and it’s always with me.”
“Thank you,” she said.
His smile returned and he stepped back. “Okay, I’ll pull up in front and you can follow me. That way I’ll have ten more minutes with you before you fall into the clutches of the spectacular Wyatt kid.”
“He’s just a boy?”
“He’s younger than me, so that’s how I see him.”
She smiled. “Young, dumb, ugly. I think I’ll recognize him.”
“Maybe when I see you again, you can tell me all about what’s been done to my family home.”
“If I do stay there, I’ll invite you in to see the place.”
“Alastair!” a tall, big man shouted from the opposite side of the parking lot. “We need to get together.”
“Oh, no,” he muttered. “My former high-school buddy. He only wants to talk about when we were sports stars. He drinks now and...” He turned. “Can’t now, Dan,” he called out. “Kate and I are going to my house.” He looked back at her.
“That sounded like you and I are a couple.”
Alastair smiled. “I thought I did rather well with that bit of subterfuge. That makes one fewer male I’ll have to fight to win you—not that Dan stays sober long enough to do battle.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “I’ll get my car. How about if you follow me around town for a look at my beloved Lachlan?”
“I’d like that. Lead on!”
THREE
Kate followed Alastair in his sleek blue BMW out of the downtown into the suburban area. It was pristine. Pretty houses with even prettier gardens. The houses all had a Florida flavor: porches, verandas, a strong Spanish influence. Big trees, especially palms, moved in the breeze. Here and there were small specialty shops. There was a café with outdoor tables under umbrellas. She could see why people who lived in busy Fort Lauderdale would come here to spend an afternoon and leisurely shop and dine. And, of course, tourists would love to see a glimpse of “old Florida.”
Even though they weren’t going on a direct route, she tried to memorize the street names—work was always on her mind. On the floor of the passenger side of her car was a box of business cards she’d had printed. It would be presumptuous to hand them out before she’d met Tayla, but she’d been tempted in the tea shop.
They drove down Coral Gate, Palm Bay, then around Lime Key Circle before finally turning onto Stewart Lane. Kate saw why her GPS hadn’t listed it. It was so private that the US Postal Service probably classified it as a driveway.
There was what looked to be a tiny guesthouse at the end of the road. Past it, the main house was nestled behind old, tall palm trees. To someone who’d survived many Chicago winters, it was an exotic landscape.