Free Just Give In… by Kathleen O'Reilly Page B

off this part of the journey, the last part, out of fear. She had wanted the meeting with Austen to be perfect, but since Brooke had very little experience with perfection, she now recognized the flaw in her plan.
    The Captain hadn’t thought she was capable. No, the Captain thought she was certifiable. Excitement changed to a hollow emptiness, and she got angry with him all over again. However, today was for new beginnings and she made herself smile at the bright, sunshiny day.
    A new start with a new brother, a new home, and what did the Captain know, after all?
    After she took the last turn onto Orchard Drive, she drove two long miles seeing nothing but trees and grass. When she finally spied the house, she stopped, stared. Frowned.
    There was no picket fence, no charming garden, no bounding dog. Frankly, as a home, it lacked just about everything.
    There was a man and a woman working on the house, actually it seemed more like demolition than renovation. Considering the condition of the place, demolition seemed optimal. Her brother, Austen Hart, was swinging a sledge hammer, destroying one of the two interior walls that still remained. A very pretty, stylish woman was using a chain saw to slice through some rusted out pipes.
    Welcome home, Brooke, she thought, and then laughed at herself. She’d seen worse, she’d survived.
    After she parked the old Impala, Brooke climbed out, prepared to see her brother. Hopefully he would remember who she was. “Austen! It’s Brooke! Your sister,” she added, mainly as a reminder.
    Austen put down the hammer, the chain saw shut off, and Brooke made her way past what was left of the porch steps. The woman looked her over, and Brooke wished she’d taken the Captain’s advice and sprung for new boots.
    “I’m his sister. Brooke Hart.” She held out a friendly hand. “Very pleased to meet you.”
    The woman shook her hand, and Brooke noticed her fabulous nails and tried not to be jealous. “Gillian Wanamaker.”
    With the back of his sleeve, Austen wiped the sweat from his brow, but didn’t offer his hand until Gillian Wanamaker nudged him in the side.
    Instead of shaking her hand, her brother pulled her into a hug, and it was the world’s most awkward hug. Brooke knew this because she had experienced more than her fair share of awkward hugs, some wanted, some not.
    “I didn’t know you were coming to visit. Hell, we would’ve put out a welcome mat.” Austen glanced toward the house and laughed. It was an awkward laugh. “What are you doing in town?”
    “I came to see the house,” Brooke told him. And maybe stay forever. Austen walked her through the remains, and she wondered what it had been like when her mother and father had lived there. When Austen and Tyler had lived there.
    “Not much to see right now. It’s a work in progress. The old structure was condemned and the lawyer gave me the green light to tear down the place.”
    Gillian pointed to a freshly poured slab in the distance. “The new house is going up over there.” Then her attention returned to Brooke. “Austen didn’t mention where you lived, or maybe he did, but in this whole getting-married hoo-doo, it probably slipped my mind.”
    “I’m from New York,” Brooke answered, then nodded to the house. “It looks great.”
    “Have you talked to the lawyer?” asked Austen. “He was trying to track you down.”
    “That’s why I came, but he’s out of town. Do you know what he wants?” Brooke asked, trying to sound casual.
    Austen began to laugh. “This is your inheritance.”
    Brooke swallowed. “I’m in the will? My father knew about me?”
    Austen shook his head. “The state executed the will last spring because you have a legal claim and it’s only right that you get your share. We’re sitting on four acres, so you get one-third of that and one-third of the house.
    “One-third of the house?” asked Brooke, trying to look excited.
    Austen wasn’t fooled and he laughed, and she