Valery scoffed. “That’s business. Guests who come and go. I’m talking about a personal life.”
“Like yours?” Julia wanted to suck the words back inside. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”
Valery’s lower lip trembled. “I had a couple of drinks last night. Stop making a federal case out of it.”
Julia pulled her into a hug. “Hey. Want me to do your toenails later?”
“Would you?” Valery returned the hug with enthusiasm and then huffed a short laugh and pulled away. “I’m such a pushover.”
Which was exactly the problem. Valery was too nice. Too Southern-girl-accommodating so that men who couldn’t even spell gentlemen took advantage of her. Julia had never understood why her sister thought so little of herself or why she chose the kind of men who misused her. They’d been raised by the same parents and as the younger sibling, Valery was the favorite. She should have been confident and strong. Instead, she was a rug for men to walk on, and Jed the jerk was only the latest in a long line of creeps Valery had allowed to make her miserable.
“I found another marble this morning,” she said as a peace offering. No point in pushing the topic closest to her heart. No one wanted to listen.
“Really?”
Julia took the stone from her pocket. “Looks similar to the others.”
“Where did you find this one?”
“On the rug under Bingo.”
They both glanced at the Aussie sprawled like an ink spill on the gleaming heart-pine hallway. His tail thumped. Bingo wasn’t allowed in the guest rooms, but that didn’t keep him from following his owner from room to room.
“Do you still think he’s bringing them inside?”
“He must be digging them up somewhere on the property. What other explanation could there be?”
Valery wiggled her fingers beside her head and grinned. “Ghosts?”
“Now you sound like the Sweat twins. If this old place had ghosts, wouldn’t someone have seen one by now or had some sort of supernatural experience?” Someone besides me, the nut job who hears children laughing.
“Maybe they have and were afraid to tell us.”
She was right about that. “Have you ever seen or heard anything?”
“I’ve had the creepies a few times as if someone was watching me, especially in the carriage house.”
The old carriage house was creepy but not because of ghosts. “Because we haven’t done a thing to it. The cellar’s the same way. Once we clean out the spiderwebs and all that ancient junk and start the remodel into more guest rooms, the creepies will disappear.”
“Oh, you’re no fun at all. I would love to have a ghost or two to make things interesting around here. Haunted inns attract crowds.”
Which is one of the reasons I don’t tell you everything. “I like things the way they are. Peaceful and quiet.”
“No excitement in your blood. I swear you are not related to me. Give me bright lights and party time. Give me Vegas and fast cars and hot men.” Valery spun toward the window and stopped. “Like that one. Holy guacamole! Come here, Julia. Check this out.”
“I don’t have any more guests on the log for today.” But she crossed to the window anyway. “Oh.”
“What do you mean, oh? Do you know him? He is gor-ge-ous. And a little wild looking. Yummy.”
“He had car trouble this morning up on the road. Mr. Oliver gave him a jump.”
“I’ll give him a jump.” Valery pumped her eyebrows.
Julia snorted and swatted her sister’s arm. “I thought you and Jed were back together.”
“We are. I’m kidding, but I ain’t dead like some women I know.”
Julia ignored the pointed comment. “I’m going down to see what he wants.”
“You’re not leaving me behind. I might be taken, but I like to look. And you could use a man in your life.” She poked a finger at Julia’s chest. “Maybe he fell madly in love the moment he laid eyes on you. Maybe that’s why he’s back.”
Julia hit her sister with the pile of dirty linen. “Hush.”
Valery laughed, stopped at the mirror for a quick fluff and then followed Julia down the stairs.
Eli Donovan stood at the back entrance, holding a mug imprinted with the logo of Peach Orchard Inn.
“Ma’am,” he said when Julia opened the screen.
Valery swept to her side. “She’s Julia Presley. I’m Valery Griffin, her sister. And you are?”
Eli looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the vibrant, gregarious brunette who talked a little too fast. “Eli. I brought back your mug.”
Julia took the cup from him. “Thank you.”
“The coffee was good.”
“Would you like more?” Valery pounced on him like a cat on a grasshopper. She pushed the door wider. “Come on in. Coffee is always fresh and available for our guests’ pleasure.”
Oh, great. Julia fought not to roll her eyes and groan.
Eli glanced her way, and she could have sworn she saw amusement in his leaf-green gaze. Seeing the humor, too, she smiled. “Might as well come in, Eli. My sister is a steamroller. She seldom takes no for an answer.”
* * *
Eli followed the two sisters through the immaculate copper-and-cream kitchen into a breakfast room with cranberry-red walls, white trim and a wall of sparkling windows. Six square tables were set with white linen and napkins in the same deep red as the walls. He noticed the scent again, as he had this morning. Subtle. A waft of fresh bread and clean air. A far cry from the rancid human odors of his past seven years.
He felt out of place, miserably so, but he was here and he was going to do this no matter the result. A man looking to start over had to start somewhere.
“Pretty,” he said, surprising himself.
The woman named Valery beamed. She was a looker, long, wavy dark hair and lots of curves, with a vivacious personality that promised a good time. But it was the quieter Julia who drew his interest. Dressed in casual beige slacks and white buttoned blouse, she had a calming way about her. Like this house. Serene. That was the word. He hadn’t used serene in a long time.
“I thought I’d lost this cup forever,” she said.
“I almost forgot about it.”
“Have you had breakfast? I know it’s closer to noon, but brunch perhaps? There’s still some casserole left.”
“I’m okay.” He wondered if she always tried to feed people or if he simply looked pathetic.
“You’ll have something, Eli,” Valery said. “Julia is a fabulous cook. Maybe her muffins or some peach tea?”
“I heard about that tea.”
“Really? Where?”
“A police officer in town.”
Julia’s blue eyes rounded. “Don’t tell me you got a ticket?”
“No, nothing like that.” Man, she was pretty, her voice as smooth and Southern as a praline sundae. Classy and cool. Like his mother’s. A dull ache tugged behind his breastbone. He averted his gaze, found the view outside the windows.
“Was it Trey Riley?”