“Good morning, Miss Belle. I assume you’re looking for Hannah.”
Belle barked. Hannah jumped off the couch and ran over, falling to her knees and wrapping her arms around the dog. “Belle! Mom, look. Belle came to see me. Can she stay?”
“For now. I’ll find out when I get up to the house. Don’t let her on the sofa with you, though.”
“Okay. C’mon, Belle.” They sat on the floor in front of the couch.
Valerie headed out and up the pathway. The morning was exquisite—a crystal-clear sky, the crisp scent of pine in the air, a mild midsixties or so, although probably another hot day ahead.
At the house, the kitchen door was unlocked, and since Belle was out, Valerie knew David must be up. She’d checked the contents of his refrigerator when she’d gotten the salad out last night, seeing very little beyond condiments, although he did have eggs.
“Good morning,” he said, coming into the kitchen. “How’d you sleep?”
“Exceptionally well.” He also looked exceptionally good in his khakis and light green polo shirt, a shade lighter than his eyes. His dark hair was still damp. He smelled good, too, fresh from the shower, kind of soap scented or a light, pleasant aftershave. “Could I fix you an omelet?”
“I’ll just have cereal, thanks.”
“Are you sure? You’ve got eggs and cheese and—”
“Okay, you talked me into it.” He poured himself a cup of coffee from a carafe on the counter. “I made a full pot, if you’re interested. Didn’t know whether or not you drink it.”
It was something she’d given up because she couldn’t afford it. “Yes, thanks. Do you have likes and dislikes, foodwise?”
“I like meat and potatoes. And most vegetables. Not a big dessert eater, except apple pie and chocolate-chip cookies. And ice cream.” David leaned against the counter, sipping from his cup, watching her whisk eggs and grate cheese. “When you have time today, I’d like you to read through the files I left on my office desk and familiarize yourself with them. We’ll talk about them tonight. Tomorrow I’ll stay home longer in the morning and show you how to access files on my computer.”
“When will you leave town again?”
“Sunday.”
This was Wednesday. He figured she should be up to speed by the time he left. They would spend a lot of time together, just the two of them.…
She poured the eggs into the pan, moving gracefully and efficiently from task to task, then he saw her realize he was watching her, and her cheeks turned pink. He shoved away from the counter and went to the window, surveying the morning.
“It’s so quiet here,” she said hesitantly, as if needing to fill the silence. “I feel like I’m on vacation.”
“I know what you mean. Some days I can’t wait to get home. And now that Belle’s home, too, it’ll be even better.”
“Oh, I forgot! Belle is with Hannah in the cottage. I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s fine. I saw her wander down there this morning and sit in front of your door.”
“You’ll need to tell me what to feed her, and when.”
“Her bowls are in the laundry room, and an extra water bowl on the deck. One scoop of dog food, twice a day.”
“When you’re gone, should she stay in the cottage with us?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“I think my daughter would raise quite a ruckus if Belle couldn’t be there.”
“I figured that.” He took another sip of his cooling coffee. He rarely had someone to talk to in the morning, and now he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not, accustomed to silence as he was.
“Is this enough food for you or do you prefer a bigger breakfast?” she asked.
“I eat what’s put in front of me.” Maybe he shouldn’t have told her he’d fix his own breakfast most of the time, after all. Maybe it would be nice having her there in the morning, fixing something hot and filling.
“You look like you work out.…” Her words drifted.
He turned in time to see her swallow, obviously uncomfortable.
“I mean, you don’t look like you overeat.” She stopped, closed her eyes. “I mean—Shoot.”
He decided to rescue her. “I could say the same about you.”
“Good genes,” she said in a tone indicating that conversation was over. She tipped the omelet onto the plate next to the toast she’d just buttered.
He came forward, taking the plate from her, not wanting things to get any more personal—for both their sakes. Maybe he should have let Hannah hang around more, to keep things professional.
“I’ll eat in front of the computer while I answer some e-mail, then I’ll take off,” he said. “See you around six o’clock.”
“When would you like dinner?”
“Plan on seven.” He went out the kitchen door then retraced his steps. “Don’t try to do too much today except get settled and acclimated. I know the house needs cleaning, but it can wait one more day.”
“All right.”
He didn’t believe her. Based on what she’d told him, he guessed she had a stronger work ethic than most. “I hope this works out, Valerie.”
“Me, too.”
He went to his office and shut the door. His computer was on, but he stood at the window instead, eating, the view of the yard the same as from the kitchen and his bedroom. After a minute he saw Valerie make her way to the cottage, carrying a carton of milk. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry, taking a little time to stop and look around, maybe visualizing what she wanted to do with the yard.
He should’ve probably held off letting her start on any major project until their trial month was up, but what damage could she do in the yard? The worst that could happen was that it got tamed some, thinned out.
Except he didn’t want a bunch of flowers planted. He should tell her that before she got started. He liked the natural look, which was why his pool seemed to be carved from the rocks. Women always had different ideas about things like gardens, however. His mother had loved to garden.…
An hour later David pulled into the company parking lot in an industrial area of Roseville. The large metal building housed several bays in which cars in various states of completion were being hand built. At the far right of the building were his and Noah’s offices. David had been a partner in Falcon Motorcars since he was eighteen, the year his father died, leaving his three sons the business in equal shares. For the first eight years it had been fun, each day a challenge, each job different. But since Noah’s wife’s death, it had become exhausting.
David tried to hide his resentment from Noah, who was still grieving and had enough on his plate with four children, but the resentment was becoming increasingly difficult to conceal, especially as it was compounded by Noah’s inability to see the pressure cooker David lived in daily. If only Gideon hadn’t left the company, then the responsibilities would have continued to be more equitable. But Gideon marched to a different drummer, always had, always would. Nothing would lure him back into the family business.
“Morning, Mae,” David said to the woman who’d been office manager of the business for thirty years, and Noah’s administrative assistant.
“The conquering hero returns.” She looked at him over the top of her glasses while continuing to type. She hadn’t changed her supershort hairstyle since he’d known her, the color as bright red as it had always been.
“Hero?”