Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Before I can ask more questions, Vincent approaches. “Kate, can I get Beck to show you the floor plans for the new houses?” he asks. “Or even better, we can do a site visit. I just mentioned it to Sacha, but she’s tied up, and so is your granny. Do you have time?”
“Visit the new houses?” I’ve not had any time to think about leaving the estate. I’m not in the slightest bit prepared.
Beck joins us. “It’s a bit muddy down there, but we have one fully built, so you’d be able to see the space, rather than just look at a plan. Foundations have been laid in some of the others.”
Maybe I’ll feel better if I see the new houses. Better yet, maybe I’ll still be able to see Crompton from the new housing development. If I could look out my window and see the estate, I might not feel so…unmoored.
“It will be fun,” Stella says. “And you’ve got your wellies on already.”
I glance down at my feet and then back up to Vincent. “Are you going?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Absolutely.”
It’s no big deal. Just a few minutes in a car. It’s not like I’ve never been to the village before. Except I can’t quite remember the last time I went into the village. Ever since Meghan’s cousin started a grocery delivery service, I haven’t had to leave the estate on a consistent basis. Try as I might, I can’t recall why I last left, let alone when.
Soon, I’ll be coming in and out of the Crompton gates every day. Getting in a practice run today can only help.
SIXTEEN
Vincent
It’s the fake smile that tips me off about Kate’s anxiety. I haven’t known her long, but from what I’ve seen, she doesn’t fake anything. Usually. But now, as we head down to Beck’s construction site, she’s smiling as if the corners of her mouth are pulled apart by some invisible vise. She’s totally faking it.
“You okay?” I ask.
She’s been gripping the edges of the seat like she’s expecting the car to take off into the air at any second since we drove through Crompton’s gates. “Fine,” she says, her smile still firmly in place.
“I thought you said it was behind the car park,” she says as I get to the stop lights in the village. Her voice sounds thinner than usual. Strained.
“It is,” I reply.
“Well we just passed the car park.”
“I’m just turning left here and then the entrance to the site is a little farther down.”
“How much farther?” she asks.
The light turns green and I turn left, my peripheral vision completely consumed by Kate and her obvious discomfort. Although I could be blind and still feel her anxiety. Is it the thought of moving, or me? Maybe she doesn’t like cars.
“We’re nearly there,” I say. The entrance to the site is about three hundred yards from the lights. I slow down, getting ready to turn.
“It’s farther than I thought.” She turns to see behind her. “I thought it would be directly behind the car park.”
“There’s a row of houses there already,” I say, then I wish I hadn’t because she must know there’s a line of buildings there. She’s lived in this place her entire life.
“There is?” she asks. “Oh yes. The vet and the dry cleaner are there.”
I don’t remember the stores in that strip of buildings. All I know is Beck’s development starts behind it.
“Here we are,” I say, pulling up in front of the site office.
She dips her head, trying to get a good view of outside rather than just getting out. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to see the estate from here.”
I don’t think she’s talking to me. It’s like she’s having a conversation with herself.
“Let’s go out and see.”
We get out of the car and she takes a few steps back toward where we’ve come from. “I don’t think I can see it,” she says again, an edge of panic in her voice. “Can you see it?” She whips her head around and looks at me, waiting for my answer.
“It’s beyond the trees,” I say. You can’t quite see any part of the estate apart from the wooded area toward the bottom of Crompton’s land. “I think some of those trees mark the edge of the estate.”
“Where?” She scurries across to me as if I’m carrying binoculars she wants to use.
I point. “Over there.”
“You think that’s the estate?”
Why’s she so concerned with seeing the estate? She knows it’s not far away. We were on the grounds less than five minutes ago.
“It’s too far to walk,” she says. “Is there a pathway so we don’t have to follow the road? Perhaps you could build one. Or get a shuttle bus between the estate and these houses. People don’t drive. I don’t drive. We need to be able to reach Crompton easily.”