Chapter 1 – Riley
Welcome to Historic Mystic. Settled 1654. The round wooden sign with carved inscription on the outskirts of downtown Mystic held a promise of charm and community, but Riley felt little excitement. She was a city girl, and leaving her beloved New York behind was painful and didn’t feel right. The idea was to start over, with a new and slower pace of living that would benefit her health and keep her heart ticking steadily, but driving through the sleepy town, she couldn’t imagine building a life here.
Only a handful of cars had passed her so far, and everything was closed. It was still early, she supposed, and this wasn’t the big city where some shops were open around the clock. Riley was an early riser, and she’d insisted on picking up the keys to her new home first thing Saturday morning, but the drive from Manhattan had only taken her two hours and now she’d have to wait around for the realtor to open. Slow down. Her doctor’s words echoed in the back of her mind. Take a step back and slow down.
Why had she wanted to be here so early? To check if her things had arrived in the house that she’d purchased last week? To unpack and clean the place? Her assistant had most likely already done that. And then what? That was a scary thought because Riley had no idea what to do with her life if she wasn’t working twenty-four seven.
Her satnav indicated she was close to the realtor’s office, but instead of parking in front, she continued to drive through the town to kill time. She passed pretty New England coastal-style houses with big porches and generous yards, small independent restaurants and coffee shops, and a gas station where villagers were congregated outside drinking coffee. There were a couple of churches and a sweet little harbor with a long, wooden pier lined with fishing boats. A drawbridge over Mystic River divided the village in two, and as she crossed it, she saw vessels approaching from either side. The river reflected the sweet houses along the waterfront, most of them painted red or white, with private docks and colorful boats. Sure, it was a cute village, some would even call it picturesque, but Mystic was a getaway, somewhere to spend a weekend or perhaps have a second home.
Riley didn’t know which side of the river her new house was on. She could go through her documents on the passenger’s seat and find out, but the truth was, she didn’t care all that much; it could wait until she got her keys. She hadn’t even chosen Mystic herself; her assistant had recommended it to her, as it was pretty, quiet, and rural but not too far from New York and close to a good hospital. After that, Riley had scrolled the local realtor’s website and picked a house. With only three properties on the market close to the center—if you could call it that—there wasn’t much choice, so she’d gone for the biggest one and settled on a great price as it had been on the market for a while.
To others, it may have seemed a ridiculous way to start over, but after she’d nearly worked herself to death and then sold her company, she couldn’t care less where she was. She just needed a place to rest and come up with a plan on how to move forward, and Mystic was as good a place as any to do that. At least the name had a nice ring to it; it sounded kind of spiritual.
The town was quieter on the other side of the river, and after driving past an art museum and a small library, there wasn’t much to see. More pretty houses, two farms, and a park entrance lined the road, which was broken up with occasional roundabouts that served as focal point for statues of what she assumed to be high-standing historical town figures. Before she knew it, she’d driven out of the village and was nearing Groton, the neighboring town.
“This is ridiculous,” she murmured, turning the car on a church driveway. What was she going to do here all day, every day? She was highly intelligent, intensely driven, and anything she touched practically turned into gold, yet now she’d have to take it easy for the rest of her life, and she was only forty. Used to working between fourteen and sixteen hours a day, Riley wondered what people with too much time on their hands did with their lives because she couldn’t think of a single thing that she enjoyed more than being successful. Without her PR business to focus on, who was she?
Noting the realtor would be open now, she drove back toward the drawbridge, then cursed as the lights turned red. Her first reaction was to slam her hand on the horn, but she doubted anyone would hold the bridge down just because she needed to be somewhere. Take it easy, she told herself once again. Deep breaths. She called the realtor; a woman’s voice sounded over the speakers.
“Mystic Estates, Lindsey speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hi, it’s Riley Moore. I was meant to meet you at nine-thirty to pick up the keys to the Aster House, but the drawbridge is up, and it’s taking forever, so I just wanted to let you know I’ll be late.”
“No problem, that happens regularly,” the woman said in a cheerful tone. “And I have the keys here. Your assistant dropped them off last night. Are you in a hurry?”
Riley hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “No, there’s no rush,” she said, wondering if she’d ever uttered those words before.
“Great. Stay where you are, and I’ll come your way as soon as the bridge is down. Aster House is on the Groton side. You’re not far, but it’s a little hard to find, so I was planning on taking you there anyway.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you. I’ll see you soon.”
Riley turned off her engine, pushed her seat back, and took a couple of deep breaths. It was only just starting to sink in. She’d arrived, and this was it; her new life, void of direction or any form of excitement. Even worse, she’d be living on the quiet side of the river. Not that the other side had much going for it, but at least there were shops there. And now she’d have to wait every time the bridge was up.
Chapter 2 – Quinn
Quinn got out of her pickup and headed for the ice cream parlor at the base of the drawbridge. Grabbing a coffee while the bridge was drawn was a welcome break to her morning, as she’d been up for a while doing renovation work in one of the houses along the harbor. She preferred to keep her weekends free, but with the looming deadline, she’d decided to wake up early and get ahead of schedule for next week. Passing the queue of cars in front of the bridge, she spotted her friend Lindsey and tapped the roof of her car, giving her a wave.
Lindsey smiled and rolled down her window. “Hey there! Good morning. Are you getting coffee?”
“Yeah, they just opened. Want one?”
“Please.” Lindsey handed her a note. “Skinny latte, no sugar. Thank you so much.”
“No problem.” Quinn ordered a skinny latte for Lindsey, a black coffee for herself, and a slice of carrot cake for them to share. She didn’t mind waiting for the bridge and neither did anyone else in Mystic. Most locals knew each other, and it was a great excuse to catch up.
Lindsey shielded her eyes from the sun as she took her coffee. “Where are you heading?”
“Wholesalers in Groton,” Quinn said. “I need some more wood to finish up the staircase for the Dalton house.”
“Ah. Nearly finished?” Lindsey asked. “I heard it’s looking spectacular already and they’re giving me the listing. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Yup. Nearly done.” Quinn smiled. “And good for you about the listing.”
“Thanks. Things are finally starting to look up after winter.” Lindsey sipped her coffee with one arm out of the window, holding on to the roof. “I sold Aster House. Did you hear about that?”
Quinn’s stomach dropped, and she steadied herself against Lindsey’s car. “What?” she stared at her. “I thought you said it was overpriced and wouldn’t sell in a million years.”
“Yeah, but the owners were desperate, so they dropped the price. And then this woman from New York showed interest, and she bought it without a single viewing. Just like that. Two point nine million, as if it was nothing.”
“So it’s gone…”
“Yes.” Lindsey shot her a sweet smile. “Hey, that’s life. I know you love that house, but let’s be realistic. It would take you at least another five to ten years to get the down payment for that mortgage together.” She shrugged. “Anyway, she may not stick around, so who knows? Maybe it’ll come up for sale again in a few years’ time and by then, you might have won the lottery.”
Quinn nodded and managed a chuckle. Lindsey was right; it was unrealistic of her to think that house would be hers anytime soon, but it still stung because it felt like hers. “She’s from New York, you said?”
“Uh-huh. New York City. Her name is Riley Moore, and that’s all I know about her. She wasn’t exactly the chatty type on the phone. I’m meeting her on the other side.” Lindsey started her car when the bridge lowered and winked at Quinn. “I’ll let you know if she’s hot. If she’s from the city, there might be a tiny chance she plays for your team.”
“Shut up.” Quinn rolled her eyes and laughed, threw the paper bag with carrot cake through the window, and tapped the roof of Lindsey’s car again before she walked back to her pickup truck.
“Hey! Is this for me? We always share,” Lindsey called after her.
“Have it,” she yelled back with another wave. Aster House had once again slipped through her fingers, and she wasn’t hungry anymore. Even though she couldn’t afford the house right now—and maybe she never would—she’d liked that it had stood empty since the previous owners put it up for sale and moved away two years ago. As strange as it sounded, it felt like the house had been waiting for her to come back. It looked so sad that it made her stop each time she passed, its big shutters closed like eyelids and the huge front door like a gaping mouth, calling to her. Come back. She wanted to open those shutters, wake the house from hibernation, and restore it to its old glory, and wander through the rooms where beautiful childhood memories lay. She’d shower the neglected yard with love, so asters could bloom again, and fill the lawn with laughter. If it was hers, everyone would be welcome and the door would always be wide open. Would the new owner appreciate the house for what it was? Probably not. There had been several owners over the past thirty years, and none of them had stayed long enough to fall in love with it. They’d all said they felt lost there, that it was too big to live in, and some even claimed it was haunted.
Quinn didn’t believe in ghosts. She believed in history, and with history came a certain palpable energy, but it was good energy. She could feel it, even from outside the gates. Aster House breathed; long, slow breaths. A sleeping beauty.
Engines roared and someone beeped a horn behind her, startling Quinn out of her thoughts. There was little point feeling loss over something that was never hers in the first place, but she’d have her chance again. Maybe in five years, maybe in ten. No one ever stayed in Aster House.
Chapter 3 – Riley
“Here we are. Welcome to Aster House.” Lindsey pushed open the heavy gates so Riley could drive through. It was much more overgrown than in the pictures, but she supposed the previous owners had stopped taking care of the yard the moment they moved out. Following the long driveway up to the big, white manor house, she was shocked by how grand everything was. The trees were old and huge, the yard stretched far and wide with several old fountains dotted around, and the house itself was at least ten times the size of her New York penthouse. What on earth had made her think it was a good idea to buy a house like this? She didn’t need the space; it felt intimidating at first sight.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Lindsey said as they got out of their cars. “It needs a little TLC, but that’s the fun of it, right? Making it your own?”
Riley swallowed hard as she looked up at her new home. She wasn’t superstitious, but something told her she’d have trouble sleeping tonight. The sweeping pillared porch expanded the full length of the house, and stone steps led up to an enormous front door. Two floors and a converted attic; six bedrooms, six bathrooms, an office, a kitchen, a living and dining room, a laundry room, and more space than she could fill with her things.
“Yes, it’s nice,” she said, already anxious at the thought of going in.
“These are yours. I’ll leave you to it.” Lindsey handed her the keys and shook Riley’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll be very, very happy here.”
“Thank you.” Riley managed a smiled and waited until Lindsey was gone before she walked up the steps. She rummaged through the keys until she found one labeled “front door.”
The hallway was grand, with a wide, wooden staircase that led up to the second floor. She tried the light switch and was relieved when the chandelier sprang on. Her assistant Wendy had arranged the move, and although she would never let her move in without electricity or Wi-Fi, she was all on her own now and she’d have to figure things out for herself.
With double doors both to her right and to her left, Riley tried the right doors first, and they led into the kitchen. She opened them up entirely and secured them, then glanced around the old country-style kitchen that, as expected, needed some work. It had a certain charm to it, though, with a marble worktop and a big, ceramic sink under the middle of the three windows, plenty more workspace, two ovens, a double stove, built-in fridges, and storage against the opposite wall. The peach color of the cabinets was dated, but she could tell it had once been loved. On the kitchen island stood a vase with a big bouquet of colorful flowers, and she smiled sadly as she opened the envelope that was leaning against it.
Dear Riley,
Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve really enjoyed working for you, but I won’t deny that I’m looking forward to a long vacation. I hope you’ll be very happy in your new home (it’s gorgeous!), and that you’ll take it easy like you’re supposed to. There’s a file on the living room table with all the info you’ll need, and I added some local takeout leaflets in the back, along with numbers of local tradesmen, as I’m sure you’ll want to update the décor. The movers only filled two bedrooms as there wasn’t enough furniture for the rest, but both beds are made, so take your pick. Take care of yourself and I’d love to know how you’re settling into Mystic.
Big hug, Wendy.
Riley felt emotional as she read it twice. She’d been close to Wendy, much closer than she liked to admit. Never one to make time for close friendships, Wendy and her team in New York had been her family, and standing in a strange kitchen that didn’t feel like her own, in a town she’d never visited before, she suddenly felt very, very alone.
She went back into the hallway and through the left doors, where the living room was situated. She’d seen it all in pictures, of course, but the sheer grandness of it still took her aback. Her own, modern furniture looked misplaced around the old fireplace, like it had been thrown back in time and didn’t know how to adjust. She didn’t have many accessories; her old apartment was slick, minimalist, and free of clutter, but she could do with some clutter now. The carpet was worn, and the walls had to be stripped and painted. She’d need bookcases to fill the alcoves, even though she had no books to put in there. What have I done? Riley felt regret of the deepest kind. Why hadn’t she just bought a beachside villa in Hawaii or a swanky condo in Florida? She could have gone anywhere, but she’d insisted on being close to New York. That was pointless; she saw that now. What did she have left there, apart from her old teammates, who were now working their asses off for someone else?
Day by day. She’d have to take it day by day. At least decorating would give her something to do and there was no rush, as she doubted she’d get many visitors. Her father? Her sister and her niece maybe? It had been years since she’d seen Jane at their mother’s funeral, and they’d barely spoken after. It only hit her then that she’d neglected everyone she’d ever been close to. Wendy was registered as Riley’s next of kin, and she’d been the one to get the call both times she’d been admitted to the hospital.
The shutters facing the backyard were open and she had to admit the view over Mystic River was spectacular. She could see the town and the harbor on the other side, and she imagined the evening light would be beautiful in summer. Still, she’d be here all alone. A small, anonymous speck on a huge plot of land along the riverbank.
Riley ran her hand over the thick, maroon-striped wallpaper and wedged a nail under a peeling seam. It came off easily as she pulled at it, and she groaned when she spotted another floral pattern underneath. This was going to take a while, but she had time. So much time.
Did you enjoy this sample? ‘Along The Mystic River’ will be out on 25/08/2023 and is available for pre-order!
Lise Gold 