Read Online Out of Bounds by Kris Pearson - Free Book Online

he’d
finished, stowed his painting gear away, and only the knobs and
handles remained to be re-attached. A job for the morning once the
paint was harder.
    He stretched—weary now, long arms and back popping
and pulling. And couldn’t resist wandering through the rest of the
house while he had it to himself. How much would be worth salvaging
when the time came to demolish it?
    Jetta sipped her dry white. Hallie and Bren
were into expensive cocktails, but she’d been watching her money
with New York in mind.
    In truth she was now more interested in
planning where to hang her wind-chimes than flirting with the men
in the crowded bar. Music pounded, conversation brayed back and
forth, a dozen different colognes warred with a further dozen
perfumes. Deafening, overpowering, no longer fun.
    She felt wrecked. Wrecked and alone.
    It had been terrible waiting for Gran to die.
Horrible watching the woman who’d been her substitute mother for
the past eleven years fade to a shell of her former lively
self.
    Since she’d turned twenty and gone flatting,
Jetta had visited often, helped when she was able, and felt guilty
she no longer lived there full time.
    But Gran would have none of it, insisting in
her no-nonsense way that Jetta needed her own life, and pointing
out she couldn’t be on constant watch when she worked in the
city.
    Jetta shuddered, remembering the lunchtime
she’d dashed in with strawberry muffins and smelled burning.
    The stench of scorching varnish had been
sickening. She’d followed the cable into the hall cupboard and
found the electric heater switched on and glowing merrily. On a
pleasantly warm summer’s day.
    She closed her eyes in anguish. Had her
insistence that Gran moved from her long-time home to the safety of
the Eventide Hospital killed her? And had there been any other
option?
    A burst of raucous laughter right behind her
provided a brief distraction from her sad thoughts. She glanced
fondly at Bren and Hallie. You could choose your friends, but not
your family.
    She’d presumed her only living relative was
disgusting Uncle Graham who had never re-appeared after his final
hideous breach of her parents’ trust.
    But maybe now there was Anton as well—the man
from over the fence who’d breezed in just that morning and turned
her life upside down. Claiming to be part of the family. Assuring
her he was entitled to half of her house. All too keen to prove
it—which made her very uneasy indeed.
    Suddenly she wanted to be back in number
fifteen, guarding it from him. She slid down off her bar stool and
tapped Bren on the shoulder.
    “I’m off,” she mouthed over the din. “I’ll get a
cab—don’t worry. See you and Nick tomorrow.” She gave Hallie a
wave, twisted her fingers into her bag handle, and pushed her way
out to the street.
    Anton prowled.
    The kitchen and dining room were familiar,
but he’d never seen the sitting room. It opened off the dining room
through a pair of doors that boasted hideous fifties ribbed glass.
He eased them open.
    Looks like someone went mad and replaced the
original stuff.
    It would make a good party space with the old
curtains and carpet gone, the doors thrown open, and his long sofa
and wide-screen TV in place.
    He hoped he’d soon have plenty to celebrate.
Although he tried for an icy cool exterior, his gut twisted with
apprehension and excitement. So much whizzed around in his head it
was a miracle steam wasn’t hissing out his ears.
    Ballentine Park Mews. The project that would
leave him with a clear million dollars once all the expenses were
covered, all the borrowing paid back.
    After that, life would be easier. A few more
apartment blocks, then on to the bigger stuff. He was Haviland
Homes for now, but would be Haviland International in a few years.
He hoped.
    He paced through the long central hallway of
the old house, imagining the walls light and clean, and without
their current sprinkling of scenic watercolors.
    There were generously sized