Font Size
Line Height

Page 40 of Second Chance with the Enemy CEO (Second Chance Hockey Players #1)

I take a deep breath as I walk up the gravel path towards the Oxley Mansion. The grand, old house and its imposing facade is a familiar sight I've grown accustomed to over the years. The guest house on this property has been my home, my haven, ever since I moved to Lavender Ridge.

As I approach the ornate front door, I can't shake the uneasy feeling that’s been nagging at me all morning.

Mr. Oxley, the kind elderly gentleman who has owned this estate for decades, has asked to speak with me.

The tone of his voice on the phone hinted at something serious, and I can't help but worry about what news he has to share.

I knock firmly, trying to project an air of confidence, even as my heart pounds in my chest. After a moment, the door swings open to reveal Mr. Oxley's kind, weathered face. "Erica, my dear, thank you for coming," he says, his voice tinged with a sorrowful note. "Please, come in."

I step inside the grand foyer. The familiar sights and scents are instantly comforting.

Oxley mansion smells like cookies and lavender.

Probably because of the stash of cookies the old man always keeps in his kitchen.

The lavender scent is carried on the breeze blowing in from the garden.

The smell of the house has always been calming.

Yet, the uneasiness I feel today still lingers.

"What's wrong, Mr. Oxley?" I ask, cutting straight to the chase. "Is everything alright?"

He sighs heavily, gesturing for me to follow him into the sitting room. Once we are seated, he turns to me, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "I'm afraid I have some troubling news, my dear. The Oxley Mansion..., it's going to be sold."

My breath catches in my throat, and for a moment, I am sure I must have misheard him. "Sold?" The word feels foreign on my tongue. "But..., how? Why?"

"I'm an old man, Erica. My health has been failing, and I simply can't manage this property anymore. The upkeep has become too much for me to handle alone." He reaches out and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. "I've made the difficult decision to sell the mansion."

I feel as if the ground has been ripped out from under me. This house, this sanctuary, has been my home for as long as I can remember. The thought of losing it, of having to leave, it's almost too much to bear. "But what about me?" I ask, hating the way my voice trembles. "Where will I go?"

"That's why I wanted to speak with you, my dear," Mr. Oxley says, his eyes filled with empathy.

"I've spoken with the new owner to ensure that you will be allowed to remain in the guest quarters.

You have been such a loving and caring tenant; I couldn't bear the thought of you being forced to leave. "

I let out a shaky breath, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. "So, I can stay?" I ask, needing the reassurance.

Mr. Oxley nods. "Yes, you can stay. The new owner has agreed to honor your living arrangement. You'll still have a home here, Erica."

I nod, trying to process this information. It's a relief to know that I won't be losing my home, but the thought of new owners taking over the Oxley Mansion still fills me with unease. "Who is the new owner?" I ask tentatively.

"I'm afraid I can’t reveal the details yet," Mr. Oxley admits. "The sale is still being finalized. But I promise, as soon as it is, I will let you know."

I chew on my lower lip, my mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions.

Who could the new owner be? What will they be like?

Will we get along? Will they respect my place here in the long run, or will they try to force me out?

The uncertainty weighs heavily on me, and my anxiety begins to build.

"Try not to worry too much, my dear," Mr. Oxley says, sensing my distress. "I've made it clear that you are to be allowed to remain here, no matter who buys the property. You have nothing to fear."

I nod, though I can't help but feel skeptical.

After all, Mr. Oxley will have no say over what happens to me once the sale is final.

What if the new owner doesn't honor his wishes?

What if they have their own plans for the mansion and the surrounding grounds?

The what ifs are enough to make my head spin.

As I walk back to the guest house, I feel a heavy weight settle on my shoulders.

This news has shaken me to my core, and I can't help but wonder how this will affect my life.

The Oxley Mansion has been my refuge from the outside world.

The thought of losing that refuge and having to adjust to new owners and a new way of life, fills me with a deep sense of unease.

I unlock the door to the guest house, stepping inside the cozy, familiar space.

It's a small, two-bedroom cottage hidden away at the back of the property, but it's been my home for the past five years.

I sink down onto the sofa, running a hand through my hair as I try to process everything that Mr. Oxley has told me.

I am a nurse at the local hospital, and I take pride in my work. I have always felt that I have the perfect life - a stable job, a comfortable home, and a sense of belonging in the small, tight-knit community of Lavender Ridge. But now, all of that feels threatened by this sudden, unexpected twist.

I wonder what the future holds. Will the new owner be kind and understanding, or will they be someone who wants to exert their authority and make changes? Will they try to push me out, or will they honor Mr. Oxley's wishes and let me remain here in peace?

As the uncertainty swirls in my mind, I find myself wishing I could simply return to work and forget about this whole ordeal. At the hospital, I'm in my element - calm, collected, and in control. Here, in the quiet solitude of the cottage, the weight of my worries feels almost too much to bear.

But I know I can't run from this. I have to face it head-on, no matter how daunting it may seem. This is my home, and I'm determined to do whatever it takes to protect it. I may not have any control over the sale of the Oxley Mansion, but I can control how I respond to it.

With a deep breath, I push myself off the sofa and start pacing the room, my mind already racing with plans and strategies.

I'll reach out to Mr. Oxley to see if I can get more information about the new owner. Even if he can’t tell me their names, I am sure he has some details to share.

Maybe I can even arrange a meeting, a chance to introduce myself and express my concerns.

And in the meantime, I'll focus on my work, on the routine and stability of my job.

This is just a snag; I tell myself firmly. A temporary setback in an otherwise perfect life. I've faced challenges before and survived. I'll survive this one too. Whatever happens, I'm going to come out on top. I have to.

As I look around the cottage, taking in the beautiful home I have created for myself here, a newfound sense of determination fills me.

This is my home, and I'm not going to let anyone take that away from me.

I may not have control over the Oxley Mansion, but I have control over my own life, my own actions.

And that's what's going to get me through this.

I head to the kitchen to start preparing dinner, already mentally planning my next steps. I may not know what the future holds, but one thing is certain: I am not going down without a fight.

As I move around the kitchen, the familiar motions of cooking help calm my racing thoughts. The rhythmic chopping of vegetables, the sizzle of oil on the pan - these small, mundane tasks provide a welcome distraction from the turmoil swirling in my mind.

Still, I can't fully push away the unease that has settled over me since my conversation with Mr. Oxley.

I pause, taking a moment to lean against the kitchen counter and take a few deep breaths. I need to stay focused, to keep a clear head. Getting worked up and consumed by my fears won't do me any good.

I will reach out to Mr. Oxley first thing in the morning, I decide.

See if he has any more information about the sale, or even better, a chance for me to meet the new owner.

Building rapport, showing them how vital I am to the upkeep of this property could go a long way in ensuring my continued residence here.

As I turn back to the stove, a small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Yes, that's exactly what I'll do. I won't let this change derail me or shake my sense of security.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur as I lose myself in the familiar rhythms of cooking and cleaning. By the time I finally settle into bed, my mind is calmer, more focused. I have a plan, and that gives me a sense of control that I desperately need.