The Beach House (Clearwater Bay Book 2) Read online

  “Hi,” he said carefully, frowning slightly as he studied my face. “Everything okay?”

  “I can't decide what color to change the entry hall to,” I ignored the blush I could feel crawling up my neck from the intensity of his gaze.

  “Anything is better than that snot green,” he muttered.

  “Exactly!” I replied triumphantly. “I've worked out the bathroom...” I held up the light blue card, and he nodded in approval. “...and the bedroom.” I swapped the light blue palette for the yellow one, and he nodded again. “But the foyer? I don't know, cream?”

  He studied the wall in front of us for a second then plucked a card from it.

  “What about this?” He put the card in my hands. “It isn't as boring as cream, but alternatively, it isn't as loud as green.”

  It was a lovely light peach, the color I'd seen since I'd arrived and watched the sunset.

  “It's perfect.” I looked up to find Liam watching me with a fairly smug look on his face. “So, we have the bathroom, the bedroom, the foyer, what's left?”

  “The kitchen.” Both Liam and I shuddered at his words, recalling in perfect clarity the monstrosity that was the kitchen.

  “Um...” I turned back to study the color wall.

  I heard movement, and out of the corner of my eye, watched as Liam moved to stand beside me.

  “Well, this might wor--”

  “You two make a lovely couple.” An elderly voice came from behind us and I spun around to see who it was. An old lady, probably from the same generation as Mary and Grace, stood behind us, leaning heavily on a trolley. That wouldn't have been too weird, except she wore her full Sunday best, complete with a big hat with sprigs of lavender pinned to the brim.

  “Mrs Abernathy,” Liam said weakly, turning around a lot slower than I had. I didn't know him very well, but even I could recognize a pained, fake smile from a mile away.

  “I'm glad to see you settling down young man, especially after what that girl did to you.” The old lady nodded firmly along with her statement, and then hobbled off surprisingly fast before either one of us could respond.

  Liam and I turned to each other, both red in the face.

  “I'm sorry about that,” he murmured sheepishly. “Small town, everyone knows everything.”

  “Who was the girl?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “Take me to dinner first and you'll find out.”

  The blush crawling up my face probably lit up the entire store like Christmas lights.

  Liam kept his gaze firmly on the paint colors, but I could see the corner of his mouth turning up in amusement.

  I decided not to call him out on it - I'd been embarrassed enough in the past two minutes - and instead, grabbed a champagne-colored card off the wall.

  “This'll do for the kitchen.”

  “Do you want to get the plumbing stuff while we're here?” I asked Liam, pushing the trolley in the direction I figured the plumbing supplies were.

  Liam ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

  “The electrics will take a while... how about we take it one step at a time?”

  “Sounds good to me,” I replied with a nod. “Now, where is the paint counter?”

  “Need me to draw you a map?” he teased and chuckled softly at the roll of my eyes. Then grabbed the corner of the trolley and led me in the direction of the paint counter.

  There was a bit of a queue when we finally got to the checkout, which was somewhat surprising, so I pulled out my phone and checked my messages. Lizzie had sent an email explaining that everything was going well with the practice, which was a relief. I also had an email from my grandmother's care center, giving me an update on her condition.

  There was an upbeat song playing in the store, and Liam tapped his fingers on the handle of the trolley in time with the beat.

  It wasn't long before we were at the front of the queue, and together we pushed the trolley forward.

  The man ringing our purchases through was in his sixties, and from what I could gather, he was the proprietor of the place. Liam immediately stiffened at the sight of the old man. Interesting.

  Liam lifted the paint tins onto the counter with ease, while I dug around in my handbag for my purse.

  “Paint tins, electrical wires, methinks you're renovating a house.” The proprietor's voice was croaky, like he spent his spare time smoking cigarettes. Judging by the yellowed stains on his teeth and fingertips, I wasn't too far off the mark.

  “Mmhmm,” Liam replied.

  “Which house?” the old man asked around a bout of wheezing coughing.

  “Beach house.” Liam’s short answers were not lost on me. If I was cross-examining him on the stand right now, I'd be treating him as a hostile witness.

  When I looked up from digging around in my bottomless handbag, a gold plaque shining in the sunlight behind the old man's caught my eye.

  “The proprietor of Ben's Hardware thanks the Waterstone family for their generous donation towards opening the store,” I read out loud.

  Ben, I assumed, lifted his head at my words, and looked behind him, as if surprised that it was there.

  “Hmm? Oh, yes, that's been there for years,” the old man said.

  “The Waterstone family?” My mouth was suddenly dry at the mention of my family's name.

  “Yes,” Ben grunted, scanning through the last of the paint tins and moving on to the electrical wire.

  “Interesting. Did you perhaps know Grace?”

  The old man nodded.

  “That I did. She was a nice lady, generous and kind. But all that changed,” he said, before another bout of painful coughing cut him off.

  I looked over at Liam in my excitement to hear more about Grace, to find him watching me with a curious expression on his face.

  “What changed?” I pressed gently, as Ben pressed the button totaling up our purchases. Without a second thought, I handed him my card, and he pushed it into the card reader.

  “Well, her husband disappearing probably started it all,” he replied, while pressing a few buttons on the machine.

  “He disappeared?” I gasped, leaning forward, not wanting to miss a word.

  “Whether he up and left one night, never to return, or something a little more sinister happened, we will never know,” the old man replied mysteriously, before the card reader let out a few distressed beeps, and spat out paper covered in unintelligible symbols. “Stupid technology,” Ben grumbled, before restarting the entire process again, giving me ample time to grill him some more.

  “So, her husband disappeared?” I prompted.

  “Yeah, yeah, her husband disappeared, and then her family got wiped out in a car crash. From then on, no one could reach her. Locked herself up in that ol' beach house, and never showed her face again.” The transaction worked, and I punched in my PIN for a second time.

  “Thanks for the information,” I said, while packing away my card.

  “No problem, missy. And I thank you kindly for your patronage,” Ben replied, before Liam reached out to put our purchases back in the trolly.

  “Oh, and Liam,” Ben called out, as we were leaving. Liam reluctantly looked over his shoulder at the old man. “Say hi to your daddy from me.” Ben shot Liam a yellow-toothed smile, before waving us off.

  “So, Ben's an interesting guy...” I started as we walked, the trolley vibrating my arms as it clattered over the asphalt.

  Liam grunted non-noncommittally.

  “How does he know you?” I pressed, genuinely curious.

  “He...” Liam trailed off with a sigh, before taking a deep breath. “...he and my father were friends until Ben stabbed my father in the back with a rusty trowel.” He looked over at me and must have seen how wide my eyes were at his statement. “Figuratively.”

  “Oh.” Understanding dawned on me like a lightbulb going off. “What happened?”

  By now we had reached the rear of my car, and he gestured for me to unlock the trunk.


  “Don't want to talk about it,” he replied shortly, loading our purchases into my car. Dusting his hands off once he was done, he turned to me. “What's your interest in the town's oldest family?”

  “Oh, so you can keep your secrets, but I can't keep mine?” I asked with narrowed eyes, before slamming the trunk down, disregarding if his fingers were in the way.

  “Sorry, just trying to start a conversation.” He put his hands up in surrender before walking to the passenger door and getting in.

  I leaned against the back of my car and rubbed a hand over my face. The day had barely begun, and I was already wound up tighter than a cheap watch.

  Slipping into the seat, I decided to throw Liam a bone. After all, he was just trying to help me, wasn't he?

  “My surname is Waterstone.”

  Chapter Three

  There was five minutes of utter silence in the car on the way back to Grace's house – mostly because Liam was staring at me with his mouth open in shock. Pulling up outside the house seemed to bring him back to the present though, and he cleared his throat and shook his head like a dog clearing water from its ears.

  I turned off the ignition and stepped onto the gravel. By the time I reached the trunk, Liam was there, leaning casually against the back of the car, arms folded firmly over his chest.

  “So, you're...?” he trailed off and gestured helplessly, first at me and then the house.

  “A Waterstone? Guilty as charged.” I motioned for him to move off my car so I could open the trunk.

  He ignored me.

  “What did you think?” I asked impatiently. “That I was some sort of lawyer, coming to tie up all of Grace's loose ends?”

  Liam nodded, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

  “Why would she have gotten someone from New York when there's a perfectly good lawyer in town?” I queried. “I saw his office next to the hardware store.”

  “Good point.”

  “Matter of fact,” I continued, all steamed up. “While we're at it, if you clearly have a beef with Ben, why did we go to his store? Why not another one?”

  “The next closest hardware store is an hour's drive away, and I thought you wanted to get this done as soon as possible.”

  That stumped me. “Ugh, could you just move please?”

  He stepped out of the way with his hands on either side of his head in surrender.

  The trunk opened with a satisfying click, and I reached for the first paint tin I saw. Coincidentally, it was the same one Liam was reaching for.

  Our hands brushed, and I found myself jumping back like I'd received an electric shock. My fingers tingled where our skin had met, and I could feel another blush crawling its way up my neck.

  “You okay?” Liam asked over his shoulder, collecting two tins in each hand.

  I shook my fingers out at my side. “Yeah, fine. You gave me a static shock that’s all.”

  “Look at that,” he said. “We have sparks flying between us.”

  I rolled my eyes, of course – I think I might wear them out from all the rolling. But I couldn’t deny that he was right in more ways than one.

  *~*~*~*~*

  “So... where are you going to start?” Liam asked curiously, putting the tins on the kitchen floor.

  I looked, first at the kitchen, then the entry hall, and pretended to weigh my options, tapping my pointer finger on my chin. “Snot green or garish? Decisions, decisions.”

  Liam, for his part, picked up the peach paint and put it on the kitchen counter.

  “All right, entry hall it is.”

  He smiled and my heart skipped a beat. Was this man having the same reactions to me as I was to him? If so, he was hiding it a whole lot better than I was. That wasn't fair.

  “Need any help setting up?” he asked, sliding his hands into his pockets and leaning against the counter.

  “Yeah, just help me push that a little further away from the wall, please?” I asked sweetly, pointing at a small couch in the entry hall. “I don't like how close it is to the wall.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain.” He saluted and stepped forward, slanting his shoulder against the couch.

  It was completely solid and old fashioned with a moth-eaten cushion along its highly polished wooden seat, but otherwise it looked entirely uncomfortable.

  It was also extremely heavy.

  The muscles in Liam’s arms bulged at the effort of shifting the stubborn piece. I swear I didn’t look at his arms... not for too long, anyway.

  After plenty of huffing and puffing from the both of us, we managed to inch the couch away from the wall.

  “Well, I guess that'll have to do it,” I said, pushing hair off my face with the back of my hand.

  My shirt must have ridden up a little or something because when I looked over at Liam, he had a funny look on his face, like he was having trouble breathing.

  “I'm just going to...” he trailed off, before blinking rapidly and pointing over his shoulder. He was so flustered he grabbed a paint tin before realizing his mistake halfway down the passageway. He turned around, refusing to meet my eyes, his cheeks glowing with embarrassment and grabbed the bag full of the electrical supplies before disappearing down the passageway.

  I shrugged. It seemed I wasn’t the only one having inexplicable reactions. It was good to know.

  I pulled a drop sheet out of one of the shopping bags, snapped it open and arranged it over the floor.

  Time to get started.

  The repetitive movement of the paintbrush on the wall – left, right, left, right, dip the bristles, repeat – helped to soothe my still swirling thoughts.

  So, Grace had a husband who had disappeared. Whether in a secret divorce, or murdered, no one was sure. I couldn't remember if Grace had any children either. I'd bet my bottom dollar she didn’t, as she had given me a lot of attention as a child, from what I could hazily recall.

  A noise behind me pulled me from my thoughts. I looked over my shoulder to find Liam with a ladder over his shoulder. He set it up under the light fitting above the dining room table and climbed up as sure-footedly as a cat up a tree. He whistled as he climbed, and I vaguely recognized it as the tune that was on the hardware store's radio.

  “Everything going all right?” I asked, as I dipped the paintbrush into the paint.

  “Hmm?” he asked, arms above his head, twisting some sort of wire with another. This time, it was his turn for bottom of his shirt to ride up a little, and I looked away before my imagination could do anything mischievous with the sight.

  “All okay?” I repeated.

  “Oh, yeah, absolutely,” he replied enthusiastically. “The wiring at the fuse box wasn't as messed up as I thought it might be.”

  “Fantastic,” I smiled.

  “I live with my father,” Liam said out of nowhere after a short silence. “I have two brothers and a sister, but they all up and left as soon as they could, leaving me with the old man.”

  “That's... nice?” I replied, extremely confused at the impromptu therapy session.

  “What about you? Any siblings?” The words were innocent, laced with curiosity, but I knew every manipulative trick in the book. He was trying to get information out of me.

  “Buy me dinner first,” I deflected without a second thought before shaking my head and keeping my gaze firmly on the wall in front of me. I heard a scoff of amusement from the ladder before Liam changed tactics.

  “So, I'm a handyman,” he started, and I looked over at him incredulously. He was sitting on the top rung of the ladder, fiddling with something in his hands, and when he saw me looking, lifted a hand in a cheery wave. “Hi!”

  “You're insane, you know that, right?” I raised an eyebrow in amusement.

  “So I've been told. But that's beside the point. Alyssa Waterstone, what do you do to bring home the bacon every night?”

  I studied him for a few seconds, just as he was watching me. I shrugged. There wasn't any harm in telling him, right? Besides, he c
ould just as easily find me with an internet search since he now knew my full name.

  “I'm a lawyer.”

  “No, you're joking!” He nearly slipped down a rung on the ladder in surprise.

  “Do I look like I joke often?” But there was no heat in my words.

  “Maybe you could represent me,” he replied, which was an answer I was not expecting, not in my wildest dreams.

  “Represent you?” I echoed and saw him nod. He was looking down at whatever was in his hands, with a gaze so intense I'd wager it could melt metal.

  “Yeah...” he sighed. “I'm being sued.”

  “Thank goodness you aren't needing a divorce,” I said without thinking, then immediately regretted it.

  “Why not a divorce?” he raised his eyebrow in suspicion.

  “Because I'm not a divorce lawyer,” I responded quickly. “Why are you being sued?”

  “Apparently I installed some faulty wiring into one of my client's houses, which started a fire. The insurance isn't paying out for whatever reason, so she's trying to get the money out of me.” He looked me straight in the eyes, their vivid blue clear and bright. “Just so you know, I don't have half a million bucks squirrelled away under a mattress somewhere.”

  “Hmm. I gathered that,” I murmured. “What else can you tell me?” I was surprised at the interest I was taking in his case.

  “Well, the client was fussy. And I installed the wiring just like any of the other hundred houses I’ve worked on before. None of them caught fire.”

  I nodded and brushed more paint on the wall. “Did you have a previous relationship with the client?”

  I heard him scoff behind me. “What, you mean like, was she my girlfriend or something? No. Not at all. Absolutely not. Just... no.”

  His vehement denial at the very idea of having a relationship with the client was a little suspicious, but I let it slide.

  “Do you have a lawyer yet?” I dared a glance over at him. He was just sitting on a rung, shoulders bunched up, long legs pulled up. There was a deep frown creasing his forehead – the lawsuit must have been causing him a lot of stress.

  “No, not yet. I’m hesitant to use the same lawyer everyone around here does, when Felicia has such a high-profile one from out of town.” He shook his head. “But I guess that’s what a lot of money does for you.”