The house was large and stately, a classic two-story with a hipped roof, a central widow’s walk, and a cupola facing the harbor. Everything looked as if it had just been painted, all clean gray and white, except for the front door, which was a whimsical shade of lemon.
There was a detached three-bay garage to the left of the drive but no sign of a vehicle anywhere. Ashlyn pulled Forever, and Other Lies from her tote, eyeing the yellow sticky notes peeking from between its pages. She’d spent several hours this morning writing out each question, then affixing it to the appropriate page. When that was done, she’d composed a polite note asking for his help one more time, then sealed both book and note in a protective plastic sleeve.
Now all she had to do was get the book into his hands, which meant temporarily relinquishing possession of it. Relinquishing the book, even temporarily, wasn’t a decision she’d reached lightly, but Ethan had made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in possessing either of them for himself. She’d have to trust him.
Not exactly her strong suit, trust. But she didn’t have much choice if she wanted Ethan’s help. Before she could change her mind, she headed up the tiered stone terrace and rang the bell. After a second and then a third ring, she had still received no answer and reluctantly resorted to her backup plan, which was to leave the book in the mailbox.
She peered over her shoulder as she walked down the drive, aware that as an outsider in this tiny, well-heeled community, she would almost certainly be thought up to no good if she were spotted poking about in Ethan Hillard’s mailbox.
When she was sure the coast was clear, she pulled back the door of the mailbox only to find it stuffed with junk mail and newspaper circulars. Maybe he hadn’t been ignoring her after all. Maybe he was just out of town.
She eyed the house again, narrowing her focus to the clear glass storm door. If it was unlocked, she could slip the book between the two doors. It would be safe from any weather in its plastic sleeve, and there’d be no missing it when Ethan returned home, since he’d have to step over it to get in the house.
Tucking the book beneath her arm, she retraced her steps back up the drive. A tentative test of the storm door found it unlocked. She had just thrown another glance over her shoulder and was preparing to pull it back when the actual front door swung open.
“What are you doing?”
Ashlyn was so startled by Ethan’s sudden appearance that she fumbled the book, nearly dropping it on the steps. “I was just . . . I didn’t think you were home. I rang the bell but no one answered.”
“So you thought you’d just let yourself in?”
“No!” She held up the book in her defense. “I was just going to leave this inside the storm door, then call and leave a message when I got back to the shop. I tried the mailbox, but it’s full.”
Ethan eyed the book, then looked at her, frowning. “It’s illegal to go into someone’s mailbox.”
Ashlyn blinked at him. Is it really? “I wasn’t going to take anything. I was just going to leave the book.”
“Why?”
Ashlyn shot him a nervous smile. This wasn’t going quite the way she’d hoped. “I have some questions. And I’ve learned some things since the night you came to the shop. I left you several messages but I never heard back.”
“So you came to my house.”
It sounded bad when he said it. Intrusive and a little bit creepy. “Not to see you. Well, I’d have to see you, but I wasn’t planning to bother you. I wrote my questions down on Post-its and stuck them to the pages so you could look them over when you had time. If I had known you were here, I wouldn’t have . . .” Ashlyn let the words dangle. He looked tired and annoyed, as if she’d caught him in the middle of something. “I’m sorry. It looks like I picked a bad time.”
She was about to head back down the steps when he stopped her. “I never got your messages. That’s why I didn’t return your calls. I’ve been holed up with the phone unplugged for the last few days. I’m not sure how many. I’ve lost track at this point.” He paused, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “What’s today?”
“Sunday.”
He nodded wearily. “A week. Good grief.”
She saw it now, the shadow of stubble along his jaw and clothes that looked like they’d been worn for several days. “You’ve been writing?”
“I promised my editor a look at the first five chapters by next week and it’s not going well. I can’t seem to get the thing off the ground.” He raked back his hair, leaving it standing on end. “Sorry for barking. I’m not good without sleep.”
“I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m sorry about disturbing you while you were working.”
Ashlyn was waiting for a response when she realized Ethan’s attention had drifted away. She turned, following his gaze, and spotted a plump woman in a lavender tracksuit hovering at the end of the drive with an equally plump springer spaniel. At first glance, it appeared she was having trouble with the dog’s leash, but a closer look suggested her attention was actually trained on them.
“That’s Mrs. Warren,” Ethan said. “Our one-woman neighborhood-watch committee.” He smiled tightly, offering the woman an almost comic wave. “I used to steal pickles from her backyard when I was a kid. Whole jars snatched right off her picnic table. She told my mother I’d end up in prison. She’s been keeping an eye on me since I moved back, waiting for me to slip up. You’d better come in before she pegs you as my accomplice. I’m sure she’s already memorized your license plate.”
Ashlyn was surprised by the invitation but happily followed him inside. At the last minute, she turned in the doorway to throw Mrs. Warren a wave.
Ethan snorted as he closed the door behind them. “That should have tongues wagging by morning.”
“Sorry. Busybodies make me crazy. They love to peek through your blinds, but most of them wouldn’t lift a finger if your house caught fire.”
Ethan’s brows shot up. “Is that the voice of experience speaking?”
“Something like that.”
They were standing in a large foyer with polished parquet floors and an enormous mirror that caught the light from an overhead fixture of bronze and cut glass. Beyond a curved archway, Ashlyn caught a glimpse of a spacious parlor decorated in soft shades of cream and gray.
“What a beautiful room.”
“Care for the full tour?”
She nodded sheepishly. “If you can spare the time.”
Ethan said little as he led her from room to room, pointing out a feature here and there but otherwise leaving the rooms to speak for themselves. The house was a study in sophistication and style but with an unfussy cohesion running throughout. Smartly papered walls, fabrics in cool, sedate hues, furnishings chosen for comfort rather than show.