“I should be so lucky,” Alanna muttered, starting to the house. She despised herself for the way her eyes burned. She had to be strong. He’d already hurt her as much as anyone could. Alanna walked faster.
Ciara jogged to catch up. “What about the living quarters? Can we peek inside? Maybe just a cleaning will do, like Barry’s brother said.”
Alanna stopped and Ciara nearly bumped into her. “It looks dreadful from the outside.” She glanced around the expansive garden, searching for the building she’d caught a glimpse of. She spotted the low-slung, ramshackle structure half hidden by tall trees and Spanish moss.
“That’s it, is it?” Ciara walked through tall weeds toward it.
Alanna had a sinking feeling that this derelict place was just as bad inside as outside. From here, it appeared as if it were about to fall down. She followed her friend toward the gray, weathered boards of the residence. Cobwebs hung from the porch ceiling. The windows were filthy.
She wiped her hands on her jeans. “I don’t think anyone has set foot here in years.”
Ciara stepped onto the porch and rubbed a window with her fingers until it was clear enough to peer through. She stuck her nose to the glass. “This is it.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Ick. It would take months to make this livable.”
Alanna nodded. “The main house is huge. I’ll find rooms for you there.”
Ciara started back toward the mansion. “I’m thinking Barry won’t want us that close to you, but you can let us know. We need to knock off for now and take Jesse home.”
Alanna wanted to remind her friend the house now belonged to her as well, but she was too uncertain of her rights in this pseudo-marriage. Barry likely had a good explanation for why there was so little progress, and she’d make sure he was giving it to her when she saw him.
Twelve
The next morning Jesse threw back the covers and bounded out of bed. He had a job. Jesse grinned at the thought, even though he knew Alanna distrusted him.
A haunting tune ran through his head. At first he thought Ceol had played it yesterday, then he realized he didn’t know what it was. He hummed the tune as he yanked on jeans and a T-shirt. Even as the notes echoed in his bedroom, he struggled to remember the words, but nothing came. This amnesia thing was getting old.
His parents were gone when he got downstairs. Just as well. His mother had already tried to talk him out of his plan for the day, and he didn’t want to endure another argument. He downed a glass of milk, then grabbed the car keys.
Charleston had turned out for the beautiful spring day. Azaleas and dogwoods burst with color. Narcissus and pansies vied with camellias for attention. Jesse gazed at the spectacle as if he’d never seen it before. Every day was like that—this was the first spring in his memory. Somehow he knew the names of the flowers but didn’t know how he knew.
He checked his GPS again, then drove along the streets toward Anderson Pipe Products. The building should be coming right up. There it was. The sight of the brick building didn’t jog his memory. As far as he was concerned, he’d never been here before. But he was bound to find clues of some kind at his old job. Information about the kind of man he’d been. He had to figure out a way to prove that he was not the kind of person who would try to kill his best friend in a murder-suicide. He couldn’t live with himself if he’d done anything to hurt Liam.
He parked and walked inside. The receptionist smiled and called him by name. She was an attractive brunette with a flirtatious manner.
He leaned his forearm on the counter above her. “You heard I was injured?”
She nodded. “I was sorry to hear it.”
“How long did I work here? The amnesia hasn’t lifted yet.”
Her smile flickered. “About three years.”
“Did you know me well?”
She looked down at her desk. “We, um, dated a few times.”
Jesse glanced around the reception room. Pictures from the company’s history lined the walls, but nothing was familiar to him. The furniture was brown leather, like so many other reception areas. Same magazines, same smells.
He turned his attention back to the pretty receptionist, wondering how to go about asking her what kind of man he was. She’d think he’d lost his mind. And if they’d dated, she might not be honest. He needed to talk to someone who disliked him enough to tell him the truth. “Could I see Rena Mae?”
The smile vanished from her face. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I think you’re probably right, but I really have to,” he said gently. “Maybe you could come with me if you think she might be uncomfortable.”
She bit her lip. “Let me see if she’ll see you.” Her heels clicked on the industrial tile as she hurried out of his sight.