Read Online Waiting For Eden (Eden Series) by Jessica Leigh - Free Book Online
Authors: Jessica Leigh
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job.
Surprisingly, it seemed that Vince Wycoff had actually been anticipating her decision to sell Richard’s half of the partnership, and had an offer already prepared for her. His eyes were hooded and shifty, and never met hers directly.
Vince had known why she couldn’t go back. It disgusted her.
At first, h is offer had seemed low-ball to Alex; he obviously thought she was stupid. She had been stupid. Very stupid. But not anymore.
So she determinedly made a couple of phone calls and hired an advisor. They had bartered for several days before she was satisfied with the figure. But in the end, he had caved. Vince was avoiding a company scandal.
But Alexandra had been left with a shit-ton of Richard’s debt. He had been a busy, busy boy in the months prior to his death. She ground her teeth at the betrayal.
So, after deducting the cost of Ezra’s farm, Alex figured that she only had about two-hundred thirty thousand left to her name. But it would be enough to get a business off the ground. Her business .
“Jesus!” Alex hit a pot hole head on, and if not for the seat-belt, she would have bopped her head on the roof. She had made sure that the pick-up was a hearty one, a Dodge Ram four-wheel drive turbo diesel, but it was still no match for the back-woods road. “Must have had a rough winter out here.”
She approached an ancient mailbox, hanging on its hinges only by the grace of God, and realized this was it . 56 Stony Run Road. She turned up the long drive, past the lengths of decrepit fencing, much of it sagging in disrepair. In the morose lighting of the rain-swept afternoon, the house looked downright bedraggled.
The shutters sagged, and the window panes appeared even darker and sootier than the afternoon she had first peered through them. The grass in the pastures and front yard had greened up a bit, but the lack of flower beds around the home lent the dwelling an aura of barrenness.
“Well, Alex, what did you expect?” she grumbled to herself. “You knew it would be a ton of work.” More like ten tons. She p laced the pickup in park, and hopped out of the cab. The large rut that she landed in knocked her off balance and nearly toppled her. Alex made a mental note to have gravel brought in for the muddy, pock-marked driveway.
Drawing the new set of keys from her pocket, she approached her new residence hesitantly, suddenly overcome by an odd feeling of shyness. She mounted the porch, and looked at the solidly imposing front door. “Hello, house... I’m Alex.” She laughed self-consciously, plunging the key into the lock, and opened the door.
It was very gloomy, and she fumbled for the light-switch for a few moments, with the awful thought that nothing would happen when she flipped it anyway. But a pale, overhead light flickered, then held steady.
“We have electric. Hallelujah.” Alex moved slowly throughout the disheveled room. Some of the furniture was overturned, drawers on an old roll-top desk were hanging open, and books had been pulled from the wooden shelving of an oak cabinet. She observed a couch, two easy chairs, and an empty wheelchair.
A shudder passed through her, as she remembered that Ezra’s wife had committed suicide. If there had been blood, she prayed that someone had cleaned up the mess.
Giving the wheelchair a wide berth, Alex passed through an open archway into the kitchen, flipping on any switches or lamps she could find, hungry for light. The dusty windowpanes hampered any natural illumination from the heavy, gray skies outside.
The kitchen table, a massive thing with hand-carved legs and six chairs to match stood in the center of the room. Some of the chairs were weathered and missing parts, but Alex assumed they certainly could be fixed or replaced. Obviously an antique, the gorgeous table was a keeper, definitely worth re-finishing.
Again, the various drawers and cupboards in
Surprisingly, it seemed that Vince Wycoff had actually been anticipating her decision to sell Richard’s half of the partnership, and had an offer already prepared for her. His eyes were hooded and shifty, and never met hers directly.
Vince had known why she couldn’t go back. It disgusted her.
At first, h is offer had seemed low-ball to Alex; he obviously thought she was stupid. She had been stupid. Very stupid. But not anymore.
So she determinedly made a couple of phone calls and hired an advisor. They had bartered for several days before she was satisfied with the figure. But in the end, he had caved. Vince was avoiding a company scandal.
But Alexandra had been left with a shit-ton of Richard’s debt. He had been a busy, busy boy in the months prior to his death. She ground her teeth at the betrayal.
So, after deducting the cost of Ezra’s farm, Alex figured that she only had about two-hundred thirty thousand left to her name. But it would be enough to get a business off the ground. Her business .
“Jesus!” Alex hit a pot hole head on, and if not for the seat-belt, she would have bopped her head on the roof. She had made sure that the pick-up was a hearty one, a Dodge Ram four-wheel drive turbo diesel, but it was still no match for the back-woods road. “Must have had a rough winter out here.”
She approached an ancient mailbox, hanging on its hinges only by the grace of God, and realized this was it . 56 Stony Run Road. She turned up the long drive, past the lengths of decrepit fencing, much of it sagging in disrepair. In the morose lighting of the rain-swept afternoon, the house looked downright bedraggled.
The shutters sagged, and the window panes appeared even darker and sootier than the afternoon she had first peered through them. The grass in the pastures and front yard had greened up a bit, but the lack of flower beds around the home lent the dwelling an aura of barrenness.
“Well, Alex, what did you expect?” she grumbled to herself. “You knew it would be a ton of work.” More like ten tons. She p laced the pickup in park, and hopped out of the cab. The large rut that she landed in knocked her off balance and nearly toppled her. Alex made a mental note to have gravel brought in for the muddy, pock-marked driveway.
Drawing the new set of keys from her pocket, she approached her new residence hesitantly, suddenly overcome by an odd feeling of shyness. She mounted the porch, and looked at the solidly imposing front door. “Hello, house... I’m Alex.” She laughed self-consciously, plunging the key into the lock, and opened the door.
It was very gloomy, and she fumbled for the light-switch for a few moments, with the awful thought that nothing would happen when she flipped it anyway. But a pale, overhead light flickered, then held steady.
“We have electric. Hallelujah.” Alex moved slowly throughout the disheveled room. Some of the furniture was overturned, drawers on an old roll-top desk were hanging open, and books had been pulled from the wooden shelving of an oak cabinet. She observed a couch, two easy chairs, and an empty wheelchair.
A shudder passed through her, as she remembered that Ezra’s wife had committed suicide. If there had been blood, she prayed that someone had cleaned up the mess.
Giving the wheelchair a wide berth, Alex passed through an open archway into the kitchen, flipping on any switches or lamps she could find, hungry for light. The dusty windowpanes hampered any natural illumination from the heavy, gray skies outside.
The kitchen table, a massive thing with hand-carved legs and six chairs to match stood in the center of the room. Some of the chairs were weathered and missing parts, but Alex assumed they certainly could be fixed or replaced. Obviously an antique, the gorgeous table was a keeper, definitely worth re-finishing.
Again, the various drawers and cupboards in
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