Read Online Queen of Broken Hearts by Cassandra King - Free Book Online

mentioned in one of the articles that my dream was to have a permanent site for the retreats one of these days, and Zoe Catherine called to say she had the perfect place. It was to go to Mack on her death, becoming Haley’s one day, of course. Haley was thrilled for me to have part of the property, and she’ll inherit the rest of it. Don’t worry; our lawyers made sure all of that stuff’s worked out.”
    Lex props himself against the porch railing and folds his arms across his chest, pen and clipboard in hand. “One thing’s for sure. It’s going to take a small fortune to get this old place up and running.” He scans the building with a critical eye, taking in the state of disrepair and disuse. Both of us stare in dismay at the tin roof, which is rusted and sagging in places.
    â€œI’ll find out when George Johnson gets here.” I’m more worried about expenses than I’ve let on, but I’m trying to quell my panic. I can’t let a lack of funding stop me from doing this, though I have no idea how it will happen.
    Lex is regarding me with a speculative look. “Hell, if I’d known you were so loaded, I would’ve been a lot nicer to you.”
    â€œBelieve me, I’m not,” I say with a laugh. “Mack would’ve been, but he and his father were always fighting, and Papa Mack would cut him out of his will only to reinstate him when they made up. As luck would have it, Mack’s father died during one of their bad times, and the wicked stepmother walked off with the Ballenger dough. Mack was too blame stubborn to take it to court, like Rye … ah … some of his relatives begged him to.”
    A thrifty New Englander, Lex frowns. “Then how are you planning to do this, Clare?”
    â€œDory’s talking about a fund-raiser, and I’m doing a lot of bartering.”
    â€œBartering?”
    â€œDon’t look at me like that. I’ve been doing it for years. The woman who cleans my house on Thursdays? She can’t afford therapy otherwise. I’ve done similar things with gardeners, handymen, caterers, hairdressers—works well for all of us.”
    He takes off his cap and fans with it. “What you’re saying is, if the construction guys have marital problems, you’ll be in good shape, huh?”
    â€œOne can only hope.” I turn my head at the sound of an approaching truck. “We’re about to find out—here comes Mr. Johnson.”
    When George Johnson parks his truck in front of the fish camp and gets out, throwing us a wave, Lex says in a low voice, “While you’re going through the place with this fellow, why don’t I sneak off to his house and make a play for his wife? Naturally she’ll prefer a virile stud like me to an old fart like him, so he’ll be in dire need of a therapist. Who knows, you might get the whole place done for free.”
    â€œHush—he’ll hear you. Don’t forget, I’m counting on you to do a lot of the work as well. You promised!”
    He grins. “Damn right I’ll help, now that I’ve found out about your system of bartering. Except it’s not therapy I’ll be wanting in return.”
    I poke him with my elbow, hard, then turn to greet George Johnson, who holds the fate of my retreat site in his hands.
    Standing on the porch of the fish camp, estimates in hand, I watch the cloud of dust behind George Johnson’s truck as it disappears down the road, and realize that the whole time we were making up the list, I held my breath, figuratively if not literally. My once unattainable dream of a permanent retreat site is actually going to happen, and I can’t quite take it in. At first it looked impossible, and my heart sank. George Johnson shook his head sadly as we walked through the building and I pointed out what needed to be done. Although he said nothing, I could tell he was appalled by the condition