Unmasked (New Adult Romance) (The Unmasked Series) (4 page)

"Yeah, no, I had a daydream. I did sleep like
thirteen hours when I first got home, though."

"Wow," he said with a laugh, "you never sleep that
much. Must have been three feet from dead."

"Felt like it. That's for sure. So, what were you
saying before I started ignoring you?"

He laughed and told her that all he'd said was
that he wished her happiness.

"That's sweet of you," she said. "You too. I want
you to be happy, too. I'm going to miss you, but my place is here right now.
I've got a lot to take care of and a lot to deal with. Mom and all. Dad's
really messed up over it."

"I can imagine."

"But yeah, when I get back to school – and I will
get back to school, no matter what Dr. Carlton might say – I want to see you. I
don't want you out of my life forever and ever. I just need some time. Okay?"

"Alright. I think that'd be for the best. I've
never cared for anyone as much as I do you," he said slowly, as though he had
to think of each word before he said it.

"I'm glad you called, Bret."

"You are?"

"Yeah, I think I needed to hear from you, no
matter how much I didn't want to. If that makes any sense. Somewhere in the
back of my mind, I was worried about you, even though I'd never show it in a
million years. I'm glad you're doing okay."

"It does. Make sense, I mean. I've started
thinking that pretty much everything does when you stop to think about it long
enough. And if it doesn't make sense, that's because it isn't supposed to make
any."

Those words came from the man she fell in love
with four semesters and a summer ago. She missed him. The way he'd gotten in
the past few months, she knew that was the new Bret, but not the one she had
gotten so fond of over so long. She knew that Bret was never coming back. And
for the first time, that was okay.

"Alright," Alyssa said. "I've got a list of stuff
to do and I've gotta get cracking if I want any chance of getting it done. That
is, unless you want to go buy eggplants, kale and tomatoes for me and then drop
them off."

"I think that would take a lot more time than it's
probably worth. That might just be me though."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." She paused for a
second, and then the two of them interrupted each other saying they were glad
the other one called. "Alright," she said with a laugh, "I'll call you again in
a few weeks, okay?"

"I'll look forward to it. And Lys?"

"Mhm?"

"I really am sorry. I mean it."

"Don't mention it again. We're past that. We've
both got our own lives and our own things to do. Promise me you won't worry
about it anymore. Okay?"

"Okay. Promise."

She held the phone for what seemed like five
minutes after he hung up and it had long since gone dead. Looking back at the
list of times he called, she sighed softly and put down the phone, got her
things and left before it could ring again.

Halfway down the driveway, even though she left it
on purpose, Alyssa turned back to the house and thought about going back. She
told herself that her dad might call and need something, but that wasn't
likely. If something happened at school, the kids would be perfectly safe
without being in immediate contact with her. After she exhausted every possible
reason to go back for the phone, she arrived at reality that what she wanted
was for Bret to call again.

She missed him so bad it hurt.

Or at least she missed someone, or something, that
she couldn't quite put her finger on at the moment.

Halfway down the street that ran between her dad's
house and the Newtown town square, Alyssa's thoughts somehow drifted back to
the forest and the mushroom gathering and the house – but mostly to the man
she'd seen in the window.

The air outside was cool and sharply scented with
pine when she rolled down the window to try and clear her head, but nothing she
could do got him out of her mind.

"Wait a minute," she said. "What if – is it even
remotely possible that the guy I saw in the window was Preston Webb? There's no
way. But still, tall and thin is pretty much how dad described him, right? No
way. That's beyond crazy."

A deer sprinted across the road and Alyssa's
attention snapped back.

Minutes later, pulling into the parking lot for
her morning workout, the first of many stops she had meticulously planned out,
Alyssa looked around the car for the duffel bag with her workout clothes, and
then realized she left the whole thing sitting on the table beside her phone.

"Good. Very good, Alyssa." She sighed and blew a
fallen lock of hair out of her face. "Well, guess I can check that off the
list. I wonder what the eggplants are looking like?"

––––––––

"Sir, what happened to that contract?" Gadsen's
aged leather voice crawled across the table as he sat. "I thought you were
going to sign it and give it back to me so I could have it to the council by
tonight's meeting?"

"I took care of it. It's safe and sound." Where,
exactly, it was safe and sound, he refrained from saying. "What're we having
tonight?"

"Roasted chicken, roasted vegetables. I hope you
enjoy it. I made it with a cream sauce that I hope you find acceptable."

For all Gadsen's faults, he was a damn good cook,
Preston thought. He looked across the table at his butler, at the man who had
more-or-less functioned as his surrogate father for most of his life, and then
formally taken over the roll five years ago. His eyes slid over the visage of the
man who kept him held and captive, against all his wishes, in this massive
estate. The old man's face was marked by two wars, and a half century of
service to his father. Still, Preston couldn't help but feel his temples throb
and his cheeks burn when they were in the same room anymore.

"Is it strange that I eat with a butler?"

"Strange how, sir?"

"Well, most people don't do such things, right?
The butler brings the food and then goes off somewhere else?"

"That's true. I thought you wanted me to stay, but
I can certainly go back to my quarters if you'd prefer."

"No, no, that's fine. I was just curious." He
chewed a little chicken, a little asparagus.

The thought crossed his mind to tell the old man
to shove off back to whatever little abode he kept. But he swallowed his
tongue. As much as Gadsen aroused his most passionate irritation, it was
nothing to being alone.

Alone. The word rang in his mind.

Always alone.

Preston put down his fork and pressed fingers to
his temples, already beginning to throb again, so soon after he had just
managed to defeat a headache.

"Tell me something," he said, and was almost
immediately seized with a pounding right in the middle of his forehead.

"Anything, sir? Oh my – are you having another
attack? Do you need a warm cloth?"

"Uh, yeah. That would probably help."

Seconds later, Gadsen came back with the hot towel
and Preston put it around his eyes and forehead. A minute after that, the
throbbing stopped.

"Thanks. That did the trick."

Opening his eyes, he was disoriented, internally
confused. All sorts of questions were rolling around in his head and none of
them really wanted to come out. Or at least, he didn't want them to come out to
Gadsen. But still, he had nowhere else to turn.

"What were you saying before, sir?"

"What?"

"You said you wanted to ask me something."

"Oh, right, sorry. Do you remember that girl who
used to sneak inside our fence and pick mushrooms? The little blond one?"

"Mmm. Yes, I remember the little demon. She'd
climb under the fence, and whenever it was mended, she'd just dig deeper under
it. Some sort of damnable mole, she reminded me of." The butler clenched his
teeth and squeezed his fork.

"That's a little over the top, isn't it?"

"I think not. She invaded the privacy of this
estate. That is unacceptable. Her father should have disciplined the child
harshly until she stopped."

"Sounds familiar," Preston said with wry laugh.
"Anyway, I was trying to remember. Didn't dad used to pal around with her
sometimes? I talked to Peter and he mentioned something about that."

"I don't quite...oh yes, now that you mention it,
that does sound familiar. He loved those mushrooms so very much. I've never
seen anyone with such an affliction for plants. You enjoy your roses, but it's
nothing to what your father did with those awful fungi. Do you remember that he
used to deliberately cultivate them back there?"

"He did? No, I don't remember any of that at all.
He was pretty distant, you know."

"He was a busy man. And he never expected to have
a child and no-"

"Anyway, the mushrooms," Preston interjected.
"What about them?"

"Right, sorry, sir. Three or four times a year, I
can't remember precisely, your father wandered the property and collected
various logs and plants and so on that he thought would be conducive to certain
types of mushrooms. Then he placed them in that little swath of forest by the
fence – where that awful child came in – and grew his fungus."

Preston grinned at just
how
irritated
Gadsen was at a barely-teenaged girl crawling under the fence and gathering
mushrooms. Truly remarkable, he thought, that someone can get this mad about
something that ridiculous.

"I had no idea. I mean, I knew he liked to gather
them and all that, but I didn't know he had a mushroom hobby."

"Oh yes, sir, he did," Gadsen's eyes lit up in a
way they hadn't for a very long time. "Speaking about your father brings back
memories, sir. He really did his best."

"I know. Sometimes it just feels like I didn't
really have a father the way most people do. Probably has a lot to do with never
leaving this place." He put his hand up to ward off what he knew was coming. "I
know, I know, it's for my safety, I'm not angry about it," right now, he didn't
say, "I'm just saying how strange it is to grow up like this."

For a few moments, they chewed in silence, and
then Preston broke it with an appreciative moan. "This is good. Thanks again."

"Oh yes, of course." A light flickered behind the
old man's eyes. "But what was it you were asking about? Your father and that
girl?"

"Right, I'd almost forgotten," he turned the
corner of his mouth in a half grin. Preston Webb never forgot anything, but no
one knew that. "Peter mentioned it when I spoke with him, and I was wondering
if you knew about it."

"Of course. Your father really liked that little
creature. I remember," he leaned back in his chair, "the first time he came in
one evening, probably ten years ago now, with the biggest grin I'd ever seen on
his face."

It took Gadsen about fifteen minutes to recount
two minutes of information, which amused Preston to no end. Halfway through, he
had opened his mouth to stop the old man, but then closed it again and just
kept listening. As he looked across the table, a mixture of emotions bubbled up
in his chest.

Preston appreciated that he had anyone at all
looking out for him. Lots of kids, he knew, didn't have even that. Then his
cheeks flushed with anger. As much as he was glad for the man, he hated him
just as fiercely. It didn't make him proud to be so furious, but there was
nothing he could do about it. And to add to his confusion, he also loved him,
in a way. Preston's left arm twitched and tingled. The muscles in his shoulder
had started to do this sort of thing recently, and he was yet to figure out
why.

Gadsen finished telling the story that Preston
already knew. When he did, apparently, the old man forgot all about the
contract he asked after when they sat down. So taken up was he in recounting
the terrible tale of his father daring to enjoy the company of a funny little
girl who had a curiosity in mushrooms, he was unable to consider anything else
at all.

"That is all to say," Gadsen finally concluded,
"that yes. He saw her a few times and specifically instructed the security team
to leave her alone. He liked her. I think in a way she reminded him of your
mother possibly, or perhaps of the other children he always wanted, but never
had. Your father had a big heart."

"Huh," Preston grunted. "Well thanks. I always
wondered about that, and then like I said, Peter reminded me of her."

"Why were you asking about her in the first place?
A bit of a strange memory to dredge up, isn't it?"

No, not really, not if you knew the things that
have been rolling around in my head all day, Preston wanted to say, but held
inside.

"I guess, yeah. You know who she is, right? That
girl?"

"Not a clue. I expect some ragamuffin from the
neighborhood near that end of the property."

Preston nodded. "She is that, yes. Her name is
Alyssa Barton, if that helps."

At the same moment, both realization and anger
flashed behind Gadsen's eyes.

"Just tell me what it is you're trying to tell me,
sir," he said with a little snarl. Every ounce of nostalgia was obviously gone.
"I don't like games."

"I don't either. She's the daughter of the man I
have doing my ledger entries. He's a good man, and he raised her."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"I was thinking about the trust after you left me
with the contract yesterday. Trying to figure out how I could possibly do what
I'm supposed to do." He waited a minute to make sure Gadsen got the point. "And
then, I found that other letter, from Mr. Barton. He told me that his daughter
was coming back to town, although since you said that letter was a few days old
when I got it, she's probably already back."

"What are you saying? You can't possibly expect
this to be acceptable. And why would you even think about her? You don't know
her any better than you do anyone else."

"That's true. Very true. I just...actually,"
Preston sucked his bottom lip inside his mouth and ran his tongue along it,
lingering on the place where it was crossed with a scar. "I do know her. In a
way. I know her father and, like I said, he's a good man, and I've seen her
before. I used to watch her. I'd stand in my bedroom and watch, hoping to see
her come out of the woods, hoping that somehow she'd see me. I don't know what
I expected to come of it, but I dreamed that she would see me somehow. It all
sounds silly now."

"This is insanity," Gadsen yelped. "She's not even
got a name worth mentioning."

"A name? What is this, 1066? What does that
matter?"

"I can't abide this waste of time. I'll not even
respond to this silliness. You're either joking or insane."

"Am I? Well then, maybe you should just do what
I'd like for once instead of scheming behind my back and pretending like I have
some choice at all in what happens in my life. Either that, or just be honest
about it."

"You don't know what you're saying, sir, you've
been taken by one of your dark moods." The butler pushed back from the table
and stood. "I'll let you calm down. Great men are given to this sort of thing;
I have to keep my head about me. That's my place in all this."

"Sit down!" Blood pumped hot and fast through
Preston's cheeks. His whole face seemed to burn. Normally he'd be afraid of an
impending headache, but not this time.

Gadsen balked at the shout and fumbled his fork
which fell to the floor. He immediately feigned concern for the carpet and bent
over to clean up the drops of sauce.

"Sit. Down."

"You can't speak to me like that, sir. Your
father-"

"Is dead! You might be some sort of bizarre
king-regent until this company transfers fully to me, and until now I've just
gone along with it, but I have to think of other things. The future of this
company depends on me living up to an agreement with a dead man. Do you
really
want that room full of old, bald, white men to run this company?"

"I just-"

"Sit! Now!" Preston's eyes flared their different
colors like a blue and green nova. "Either you sit and listen, or you're
fired." His voice was ice cold.

"You can't – you wouldn't fire me. You don't know
your way in the world."

"Just like you planned, huh? I can't fire you from
the company, that's true enough. But unless I'm mistaken, my name is the one on
the deed for this house and I can remove whoever it is I want to remove. Don't
think I won't."

Gadsen sat.

"Thank you. All I want you to do is to set up a
meeting, like you've done with Mr. Barton before. That's all. I've thought
about this since last night. I can't concentrate on anything else unless I at
least talk to her. I have to know if there's any chance. I just do. Please,
Gadsen, don't make me force this."

The butler pursed his lips into a wrinkled circle
and then sucked his cheeks into his mouth.

"Fine. But-"

"Thank you. I knew you'd be reasonable. And I'm
sorry I snapped at you. But this is something I have to do. I realized I've
been thinking about her for a lot longer than just the last two days, and it
has me in a very strange state of mind."

"There's so much to do, sir that I don't want you
to sit around and fret over this. Something must be done to get this ridiculous
notion out of your head."

Preston stopped paying attention immediately after
Gadsen said he'd set up the meeting. Thinking about it, he wasn't sure why he
didn't just do it himself, but maybe, he thought, there was something about
what Gadsen said, or maybe it was something he himself said. He hadn't ever had
any control over his life. Not really.

"Good, well, thank you again." He stood up. When
Preston was standing, Gadsen looked very small, almost frail. It was especially
apparent when the young Webb looked down on him, which almost never happened.
The old man's shoulders slumped inward so sharply that he seemed to be
developing something of a hump in his back, but when he stood, he consciously
pushed them backwards and his chest out.

As he looked at the old man who raised him a
prisoner in his own house, sweat beaded up on Preston's temples. He blinked
once, then again, and wanted to take back everything he'd said.

Guilt raged inside him, like it often did when he
lashed out, and he sucked a deep breath into his chest, wishing he had just
kept quiet.

Being quiet is easier, he thought. Just letting
Gadsen do whatever he wanted, that was easier still. With these thoughts
rumbling around his skull, Preston pushed his chair under the table and ran his
hand backward through his hair. He couldn't take his eyes off the old man, no
matter how he wanted to turn around and go outside to his roses.