Chapter 5: A Home for the Holidays
The late Rachel DeLacy's House, Georgetown
Monday, December 20th (three weeks later)
10 a.m.
Sam leaned back in the kitchen chair and smiled as he watched Connor DeLacy's face; the young man seemed to be in shock as he looked at the figure on the real estate offer.
"Mr. Leland," Connor managed after a moment, "this figure… this can't be right."
"Yes, it can," Sam replied firmly. "I understand why you felt you had to list it as low as you did, but I don't believe that you should be penalized for what Evan Graham did. Believe me, there are enough lives currently screwed up because of him; I don't want you to be on that list as well."
Connor looked up. "But…this figure…"
"Is the appraised value of the house plus ten percent," Sam said. "And my financial advisor informs me that it is not an unreasonable offer for a house of this vintage in excellent condition, in this neighborhood. I don't feel that I'm being overly generous, Connor," he continued with a smile. "It's a sound offer, one I'm more than willing to make obviously, or we wouldn't be here."
"I realize that," the young man replied. "I just hope this isn't because of Miss Dillingham—"
Sam cut him off. "My future sister-in-law has nothing to do with this. Contrary to popular belief, when I work a business deal, it's strictly business. Now, she did tell me that you were having a difficult time selling your mother's house, but the rest of the deal is my own doing. I like the house, I like the neighborhood, and I'm making an offer. Now it's simply up to you to accept it."
Connor gazed at him for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Leland. I'll gladly accept your offer."
Sam wrinkled his nose a bit. "It's just Sam, okay? 'Mr. Leland' is my stuffed-shirt twin. I'll have a cashier's check for you by the end of the day, then."
Connor matched Sam's grin and chuckled a bit as they shook hands. "It's a deal."
Private Cessna Citation 2 Jet
College Park Airport, Washington DC
11 am
"Tara, can you meet me at Liz's house later tonight? Say around seven? Will that work with your schedule today?" Sam had the cell to his ear as the jet engines wound up.
"Sure, it should," Tara replied. "Where are you, anyway?"
"Airport." He smiled, as he could almost hear her brows raise. "Just a quick appointment that came up last minute, is all. I'll be back by five, and you can have your daily dose of MarioKart."
"Ok."
"Catch you later, Miss Ma'am." He hung up to the sound of her laughter, and dialed a second number. "Gregory? Meet me over at the house, okay? I'll be there in a couple hours. Jake's just winding her up now. We're fifth for takeoff."
Sam Leland's Residence, Martha's Vineyard, Massachusetts
1 p.m.
He looked around the house; nothing really jumped out at him as screaming "take me with you." After a few minutes, Sam leaned against the white banister and folded his arms across his chest while Glorfindel wound his way around the tall figure's ankles.
"You seem pensive, Samuel." Gregory's voice slid into his thoughts. "More so than I would expect you to be after a successful venture."
Sam sighed, and propped one elbow on the banister, looking out over the foyer below. He let his gaze drift over the expensive Oriental rug, the polished coat rack and hall table, to the worn scrapes in the marble flooring from years of sliding down the stairs on cookware. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing, Gregory?"
"You asked me that before you made the offer to Mr. DeLacy," the British man replied. "At that time you were ready. What has changed?"
"Nothing, really." Sam shrugged. "It's just...there's a lot of past here. I feel like I'm abandoning it...part of who I am. Is that fair to Tara? To leave me behind and then pick it back up whenever I visit?" Sam looked over to where Gregory stood.
The older man considered his younger charge, and the years they'd spent here. Then, weighing his words carefully, he spoke.
"Samuel, a great deal of who you are is here. But you need to consider that much of that part is also what kept you isolated from your family, and from everyone else around you. Facing Matthews opened a door for you; the question is, what will you do with the opportunity?" He paused to watch Sam's reaction.
There was a long pause in which Sam did nothing. Then, he stood, his shoulders a bit straighter than they had been before. He gave the foyer a final glance, and then spoke in a firm voice. "Put cloths over all the furniture, take all the food in the kitchen and drop it off at the homeless shelter. And Gregory?" Sam squared his jaw. "Call a flooring company, and see if anything can be done about that damaged marble. I'm going to pack my clothes."
Gregory nodded, unable to keep a slight smile from his usually reserved demeanor. "Very good. Do you want to return the realtor's call? He was most anxious to show the home, if you were interested in selling it. But I think most people would understand if you chose otherwise."
Sam stopped mid-step, but didn't turn around. "Call the realtor. Tell him I'm not selling." When he spoke again, his smile was audible. "Then...contact the Boston Boy's Home and tell them we're donating a facility. Give them this address."
He could have sworn he heard a smile in return. "Very good, sir."
Dillingham Residence, Georgetown
Monday, 7 p.m.
Tara pulled up at Liz's house just as the psychologist was getting out of her own car.
"Hey, Tara. What's up? Myles said something about Sam and a, quote, 'big to-do' of some sort."
The petite agent shrugged. "I haven't got a clue. He had an appointment this morning, some big secret, then he called me from the airport and said he had something come up last minute and he'd be back by five. I could hear the engines winding up while we were talking. So, for all I know, he could be just getting back from Hong Kong."
Elizabeth laughed. "I think the Orient would take a little longer than five hours, Tara."
Tara apparently hadn't heard her, because she kept going, warming to her topic. "For all we know, he could pull up here in five minutes, jump out of the Jeep and yell, 'Hey, I just bought Japan!' It's bad enough when he's just doing 'something,' but if he's using the word 'big,' who knows what could happen?"
Elizabeth was still giggling as she took Tara by the arm. "Come on; let's get a cup of tea while we wait for the new Emperor of Japan to make his entrance."
Just then, Myles pulled into the driveway as well, followed by a familiar Jeep Cherokee. Sam jumped out and bounded over to the ladies before his twin even had his seatbelt off.
"Guess what? I just bought Japan!"
Tara dropped her face into one hand, shaking her head while Elizabeth doubled over laughing. Myles grinned as he walked over, then executed a very proper Oriental bow to his brother. "And do we now start referring to you as 'Your Emperorship'?"
Sam scowled. "You know, if you all aren't going to take me seriously…" Then the familiar grin reappeared, and he started laughing as well.
Elizabeth caught her breath. "Sam, it's just that Tara had said the exact same thing not two minutes ago. Besides, you weren't gone long enough to work up a deal for a whole country."
He drew himself up straight and made a show of looking down his nose at her. "You have no idea of my connections." Then he couldn't hold it, and the grin reappeared. "Ok, ok, so spoil my fun with logic."
Myles chuckled at that. "So, don't keep us in suspense; what's this announcement that has even you using the word 'big'?"
They stepped toward Liz's front door, all except Sam. When they turned around to look at him, he leaned back against the Jeep and stuck his hands in his pockets. "How about we all go to my place instead? I doubt Liz was ready for company."
Myles raised a brow. "Uh, Sam… isn't that a bit of a distance for news, no matter how big?"
"Well, bro," Sam grinned cheekily. "I know between me and the Bureau, you're spoiled— cars and all that. But I hope you can at least manage the journey to my house." Thus said, Sam made a show of pulling a set of keys out of his pocket and twirling them in the air, whistling as he jauntily walked across the street, and up the front steps of a white house. He let himself in, and left the door open behind him.
Three sets of eyes stared after him for a long moment.
Finally, Tara said, "Isn't that...?"
Elizabeth nodded mutely. "It's Rachel's house. The sign's gone."
"Well, I guess we know what one of his appointments was today." Myles was the first one to actually move. "Come on. I have a feeling there's more to this than simply a house purchase. We already knew he was planning this."
They walked over to the house, and stepped in to find Sam fiddling with a new coffee maker that sat on the counter. "Decaf or regular?" he mumbled over his shoulder. "And have a seat."
Tara perched on one of the chairs in the kitchen; a small table and four chairs were the only furniture visible. "So, you really did it, huh?"
"Yep. This morning. Signed all the papers and everything. Gregory will be here tomorrow." Sam pushed the filter in, and pressed a button on the coffee maker. After a pause, he gave it another more violent jab and then looked satisfied.
Myles leaned back in his own chair. "So, do you need some help moving all your stuff, or will you be leaving that to the professionals? Or will you simply keep both places?"
"I won't need help, but thanks. Buying all new stuff. Should be delivered by the companies. And...that's the other thing." Sam stopped taking coffee mugs out of the cabinet, his back to the trio. "I'm not keeping the mansion."
Something in his voice made Elizabeth's head snap up. "You decided to sell the mansion, then?" she asked carefully.
"No. I'm not selling it." Sam reached into another cabinet for the sugar, his tone even and measured. "But I'm not keeping it. I'm donating it to the Boston Boy's Home. Gregory has probably already called them."
There was stunned silence for a moment. Myles exchanged a glance with Elizabeth; there was concern in the blue-grey eyes. After getting a similar nod from Tara, the psychologist stood and walked over to Sam.
Placing a hand on his arm, she turned him around to face the group. "That's a big step, Sam." She waited for a reply, not wanting to push one way or the other.
He looked around the room, at Tara, at Elizabeth, and then Myles. "But it's something I needed to do." Though his body didn't move, his eyes were pleading with Myles for something, affirmation or reassurance. "I don't need it anymore."
His twin stood and walked over to him. Elizabeth stepped back and gave them a moment together. Myles reached out and squeezed Sam's shoulder. "You're right. You have a whole world of support around you now. You don't have to hide anymore. And I think that donating the house to help someone else is a final slap in the face to Lyle Matthews and his kind. I don't know if everyone else in the family will understand, but we can work on that. Still, that house has a lot of memories..."
"I can visit. I don't think they'll have a problem with that. And thanks." Sam offered a faint smile. "I'm gonna miss it. But not enough to let it ride on my back for the next lifetime." His spirits seemed to lift, and he looked to Tara. "Sorry, Lady. You'll just have to resign yourself to designing a dream house instead."
Tara blinked. "Me? But it's your house..."
"Where are we gonna go on spontaneous vacations if I don't have some secluded mansion to visit?" Sam countered cheerfully, catching his slip. "And I'd rather you like wherever we go, anyway."
Myles and Elizabeth exchanged a discreet smile, noticing a bit of color creeping into Sam's face. Then Elizabeth placed a hand on Tara's shoulder. "I really think you should at least help him out," she said playfully. "After all, do you know of any man who possesses a decent decorating gene?"
"I beg your pardon." Myles looked insulted, but she didn't even let him comment further.
"And I already saw the business card for your decorator in your Rolodex," she quipped. "So don't go trying to pull that over on me."
"Gregory says I can't decorate worth the time it takes to drive to Pier One." Sam added, a bit mournfully. He opened the fridge to get out the coffee creamer, mumbling under his breath. "Like I was just supposed to know that blue and red don't go together like that."
Tara laughed. "Well, then, I suppose I can rescue you from color-clashing. It's the least I can do."
"Cool!" He brought the mugs over to the table and sat down. "So, Liz; what are the limits to wattage I can use around here? I feel a need to brighten this place up for the holidays. Y'know, for the first time, I really feel like celebrating this year."
