Her temporary home.
“Yeah?” Warrington Dash III had an upper-crust name and three judges in his family, which was good for him because Eric was pretty sure the kid had a lot of pot in his system. Without such familial influence, he’d probably be behind bars.
“Sequoia, we’ve been calling you for hours. Why haven’t you been answering the damn phone?”
The kid was all of twenty but had already decided not to go by Warrington, the family name he’d been given. Instead, he’d chosen the name Sequoia in honor of trees or some shit. He was studying to become an environmental lawyer, and that made Eric weep for the planet.
“Dude, I was doing yoga. No phones. It blocks the process. Hey, I could get you in sometime. You three could use some serious introspection.”
They’d have better “process” with another intern. “I need you to handle the calls at the office for a bit. Something’s come up on this trip, and we’re going to be away a few more days.”
Kellan pulled into a parking space and gestured up the street, letting him know they weren’t far from her address. Tate bounded out of the car in an instant.
Eric put a hand over the phone. “Catch him. He’ll run down the street, screaming her name like some Streetcar Named Desire impersonation.” Eric turned his attention back to his call the minute Kell closed the car door. “So I need you to go back to the office and grab the calendar on Belle’s desk.”
“Dude, Belle and I already had this conversation. I’ve already done all of the stuff she told me to do. It’s a total bummer she quit.”
“She did what?”
“Yeah, she called a couple of hours ago and said she wasn’t coming back. Oh, and she faxed her resignation, too. I’m supposed to tell you guys that she found a new home and stuff. Do you think she’s going to want the yogurt in the fridge? I could use that tomorrow because work makes me hungry and it’s the only vegan thing in the office. You guys eat a lot of animal flesh. Do you really think that’s good for you?”
She’d quit—and she’d done it by telling the goddamn intern. She hadn’t even had the courtesy to call them and tender her resignation. “Don’t touch her yogurt. No matter what she told you, she’s coming back.”
He stabbed at his phone to end the call, then hopped out of the car, his heart pounding in his chest. Anger simmered in his veins, mixing with cold panic and encroaching dread.
He jogged up the street, his dress shoes slapping against the concrete, heading for the other two. Kellan had managed to contain Tate, and the two of them stood in front of a three-story house set right against the street with a blue door. In the dark, he thought it might be connected to the little house around the corner, but he couldn’t be sure.
“Belle quit. She called Sequoia and told that pot-smoking fucker she wasn’t coming back,” Eric grated out.
Kellan cursed. “That’s not a good sign. I really expected her to tell me off, then give me the cold shoulder until I groveled.”
And just like this “move,” the fact that she hadn’t more than suggested she really didn’t intend to come back. This wasn’t just a snit. They were about to launch a battle to bring her back…but for the first time, Eric wondered if the war was unwinnable.
Eric stared at the pale stucco house with its bent screen door. It might look a little rundown, but once it had a coat of paint and a few repairs, the place would shine and look like the mansion Belle’s paperwork suggested she’d inherited. In fact, in both location and historical significance, he was looking at pure New Orleans splendor.
Restoring the house would be Belle’s dream project.
“Shit.” Tate stood beside him, shaking his head as he studied the place in the streetlamp lit evening. “She’s never going to want to leave here. We have three bedrooms that she says need paint with ‘personality,’ whatever that means, and a game room she refers to as the man cave. She holds her nose when she walks in there. Do you think that means something?”
“It means you should pick up your damn socks,” Eric groused.
“I’d even be grateful for that,” Kell put in. “But you’ve heard her diatribe about your kitchen. Even if this house needs a lot of work, she’s going to be far more interested in redoing a historic charmer in New Orleans than some suburban abode in Chicago.”
“We’re fucked. Our only saving grace might be that she can’t live here forever. This place is way too big for one person. I looked around for the front door. That guest house behind it is attached, but I didn’t find the main entrance. This isn’t it.” Tate pointed at the little blue door.
Usually, Eric liked to be aware of the problems he faced. This time, the entire conversation just unnerved him.
Kellan studied what they could see of the place. “The taxes will be a killer. I don’t think Belle has a ton of cash, unless that was part of her inheritance.”
“Her grandmother left her some money,” Tate said. “But the amount wasn’t specified in the documents I saw. Those were about the house, but if her grandmother had a lot of money, would the place be in disrepair? Even if Belle sinks her whole bank account into the house, I doubt it will be enough.”
“Before we can worry about the house or her intentions, we need to remember that she ran. Will she even let us in the door, presuming this is it?” Eric hoped there was a hotel nearby with rooms available. Even this late at night, tourists walked up and down the street. They all had to sleep somewhere. He and the guys did too, though he sincerely hoped it would be with Belle.