Page 52 of The Man in the Cottage

I think about what Travis told me. His grandmother dying while he sat in a meeting with lawyers. The photographer who asked if God was punishing him. The guilt he still carries for a moment when he wasn't able to be the bigger person.

Wallowing. That's what she calls it.

"He lost his grandmother," I say quietly. "Did you know he wasn't there when she died? He was in a meeting about the lawsuit, and she died alone."

Something flickers across Patricia's face. Surprise, maybe. Or discomfort.

"That was unfortunate," she says. "But it wasn't anyone's fault. These things happen."

"These things happen?" I stare at her. "Your mother-in-law died, and that's all you have to say?"

"She wasn't—" Patricia stops herself, pressing her lips together. "Margaret was Richard's mother. We weren't close. But that's beside the point."

"Is it? Because from where I'm standing, it seems like the point. Travis was grieving, and instead of supporting him, you're—what? Showing up at his girlfriend's house to interrogate her? Accusing her of being a gold digger?"

"I never said—"

"You didn't have to." I stand up, and I'm surprised by how steady my voice sounds. "I think you should leave."

Patricia's eyes go wide. Clearly she's not used to being asked to leave. "Excuse me?"

"You came here without telling Travis. You asked me questions about our relationship that are none of your business. And you insulted me in my own home." I gesture toward the door. "So yes. I think you should leave."

"And what is it that you want, Kelly?" She tilts her head, studying me. "A man with money? A famous boyfriend? Because I should warn you, Travis's situation is complicated. The settlement cost him a great deal, and his contract—"

"I didn't know who he was until two weeks ago." I keep my voice steady, but something hot is building in my chest. "I didn't know about the money or the hockey or any of it. He was just a guy who lived in the cottage and fixed my sink. So whatever you think I'm after, you're wrong."

The room goes quiet. Richard is staring at the floor. Savannah has put down her phone for once, watching us with something that might be interest.

Patricia's smile returns, but it's different now. Thinner. "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just looking out for my son."

"Are you? Because it seems like you're looking out for yourself."

I don't know where the words come from. But they're out before I can stop them, and I don't regret them.

Patricia stands up slowly, smoothing her jacket. "I think we've taken up enough of your time. Richard, Savannah, let's go."

They file toward the door without another word. I follow them, arms crossed, watching as they climb back into their shiny SUV.

Patricia pauses before getting in. "Tell Travis we stopped by. And tell him to call his mother. It's been too long."

"I'll pass along the message."

She holds my gaze for a moment, and I see something in her eyes that I can't quite name. Not anger, exactly. More like calculation. Like she's filing me away for later.

Then she gets in the car, and they're gone.

I stand on the porch until the SUV disappears down the driveway. My hands are shaking, I realize. Adrenaline, probably. Or anger. Or both.

My phone buzzes. Travis.

Are they gone?

Just left.

What happened? Are you okay?

I think about how to answer. About Patricia's smile and her pointed questions and the way she called Travis a stray. About the accusation underneath her politeness—that I'm after his money, that I'm taking advantage, that I'm the problem here.