had permanent residents, which were rentals. But that’s not an unusual question. I took him down to Sandcastle. It’s got some nice features, and the other houses aren’t as close in. He spent a lot of time outside again, and yeah, you can see Bluff House from there.
“He met the asking price on the spot, which isn’t usual. In fact, actually pretty damn stupid in this market, since the sellers were prepared to go lower. But I just figured he thought dickering was beneath him. I said how I’d take him to lunch, and we could deal with the paperwork, and I could contact the owners. Not interested.”
With a sour look, Mike tapped the face of his own watch. “Tick, tick, tock, you know? I had to put the contract together quick and fast. He wrote a check for the earnest money, gave me his contact information. And took off. It’s tough to complain about an easy sale, but he irritated me.”
“And the rest? Did it go as fast and smooth?”
“Settled in thirty days. He came in, signed the papers, took the keys. He barely said anything more than yes or no. We do a nice welcome basket for new owners—a bottle of wine, some fancy cheese and bread, a potted plant, some coupons for local shops and restaurants. He left it sitting on the table. Couldn’t be bothered to take it.”
“He had what he wanted.”
“I haven’t seen him since. I wish I knew more, but if you figure out how to catch the bastard, you let me know. I’m all about being in that.”
“I appreciate it.”
“I’m going to get going. Look, why don’t I throw some burgers on the grill tomorrow night. You and Abra come on over.”
“It sounds good to me.”
“I’ll see you then. Thanks for the Dew.”
After Mike left, Eli laid a hand on Barbie’s head, scratched gently behind her ears. He thought about the man Mike had just described.
“What did she see in him?” he wondered. Then he sighed. “I guess you never know who’s going to pull at you, or why.” He shoved to his feet. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He gave it a few more days, just a few more days. The routine lulled him. Morning runs on the beach with the dog, or yoga if Abra charmed him into it. Solid blocks of writing time, with the windows open, the balm of sea air now that May blew sweetly through.
Reading out on the terrace with a dog sprawled at his feet, he learned more about the history of the house and the village whiskey built than he’d ever expected to.
He’d known the original distillery had expanded in the late 1700s after the war. He hadn’t realized, or retained, in any case, that the extensive expansions on the once modest house had begun shortly after. They’d added a bathhouse at considerable expense, according to his source, the first in Whiskey Beach.
Within twenty years, Landon Whiskey, and Bluff House, expanded again. Landon Whiskey built a school, and one of his ancestors caused a scandal by running off with the schoolmistress.
Before the days of the Civil War, the house stood three elegant stories tall, tended by a small army of servants.
They’d continued their firsts. The first house with indoor plumbing, the first with gaslight, then with electricity.
The Robert Landon his father had been named for bought and sold a hotel—and then a second in England—and married a daughter to an earl.
But no one spoke, unless in joking terms, from what he’d found, of pirate treasure.
“Finally!” Abra swung her purse over her arm as they walked out of the house. She’d dressed conservatively—to her mind—for their trip into Boston in black pants, strappy wedges, a poppy-colored floral blouse with some flounce. Long, multi-stone earrings danced as she tugged at Eli’s hand.
To Eli she looked like an updated and sexy flower child, which, he supposed, wasn’t far off the mark.
When they reached the car, he glanced back and saw Barbie staring at him from the front window.
“I just hate leaving her.”
“Barbie’s fine, Eli.”
Then why was she giving him the sad-dog look?
“She’s used to having somebody around.”
“Maureen promised to come down and walk her this afternoon, and the boys will come down, take her to the beach and play with her.”
“Yeah.” He jiggled his keys in his hand.
“You have separation anxiety.”
“I do . . . maybe.”
“And it’s incredibly sweet.” She kissed his cheek. “But this is a good thing