Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

“I’m not sure. It’s a parlor, so a formal living room makes the most sense. But I’m not a formal living room kind of guy. Maybe a study or a home office.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Not at the front of house. You’d have to keep it too tidy. Go with the formal living room. Women will love it.”

“Because I’m going to have a stream of them coming through?”

“You never know.” She smiled. “I’m here, after all.”

“Interesting. Thanks for the advice.”

He led her toward the kitchen. It had been updated in the 1960s and featured avocado-colored appliances, except for the refrigerator, which was from the 1990s.

He switched on the coffeepot, then collected a can of decaf and scooped out enough for a couple of cups.

Kelly prowled the kitchen before moving to the family room. She studied the worn sofa that had come with the house and the magazines scattered across the coffee table. She pulled out one and held it up.

“For the articles?” she asked sweetly.

He glanced at the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition and shook his head. “Not mine. You’ll have to talk to Ryan about that.”

She put down the magazine. “That’s right. He lives with you. How’s that working out?”

A question for which he had no answer.

When his brother had blown out his shoulder, Griffith had been in the house about a month. Offering Ryan a place to stay had seemed like the right thing to do. The same with offering him a job. But things hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected.

“Sorry,” Kelly said as she walked back to the kitchen. “It wasn’t supposed to be a hard question.”

“Family.”

“Tell me about it. You have Ryan and I have Olivia.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about Olivia. She had some good ideas at the meeting tonight.”

“Yes, if she can do it. Putting on a fund-raiser like that is a big deal. Do we know if she really has the experience to pull it all together?”

“You’re concerned.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

He didn’t know enough about Olivia to answer the question. He suspected Kelly didn’t, either.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Kelly leaned against the counter. “I don’t know enough to go barging in to help, and maybe she’ll be fine.”

He poured them each a mug of coffee. “You sound doubtful.”

“I am and that’s not fair. I should let her mess up before I judge her.” She sighed. “That sounded incredibly snotty and I didn’t mean it to be.”

“I know. Milk? Sugar?”

“Just black.” She flashed a smile. “You forget, I’m a farmer. We’re hearty stock.”

They carried their mugs into the family room. Griffith was pleased when Kelly sat on the sofa instead of one of the chairs. At least she wasn’t trying to get away from him. It was one thing for her to ask him to kiss her when she was drunk and quite another to deal with him while she was sober. He was confident that she’d already made up her mind, but didn’t want to push her. Better for her to be the one urging them to the next step. He settled beside her on the sofa, but not too close.

“Has any other part of the house been remodeled?” she asked.

“The master bath and bedroom.”

“I wouldn’t have thought a house this old had a master bath.”

“It does now. I took what was the nursery and had it converted. The main bedroom was a good size. That was easy. A little paint, refinished floors and a big throw rug. The bathroom was more complicated.”

“If it was just a nursery, I would say complicated doesn’t begin to cover it. You would have to run plumbing and all kinds of stuff.”

“Don’t be impressed. I traded with a friend. He did my bathroom and I built him a tiny home.”

“You could have let me think you did it yourself.”

“Except I didn’t. Besides, one day you might ask me to help you tile something and then the truth would come out anyway.”

“Your parents would be very proud of your honesty,” she teased.

“My mom especially.”

“How are they?”

“Good. Loving New Mexico. They’re enjoying the weather and have made a lot of new friends. My mom is helping at a wild horse refuge. I keep waiting for her to slow down, but I’m starting to think it’s never going to happen.”

Kelly smiled. “They are such nice people. Your dad used to put air in my bike tires every summer.”

Griffith’s parents had owned a gas station in town. Technically the gas station for a number of years. His dad had a couple of guys to help with the auto repairs. Both he and Ryan had worked at the station in summers to earn spending money.

Theirs had been a traditional, middle-class upbringing. There’d been plenty of family time, a ranch-style house and two cars in the garage. Had either of the brothers wanted to go to community college and then transfer to a state school, there’d been savings for that. Instead Ryan had gone to college on a baseball scholarship and Griffith had headed to Harvard on an academic one.

Once his parents had realized the college fund wasn’t necessary, they’d sold the gas station and the house and had bought a place in New Mexico to live out their retirement.

“Yeah, he’s a good guy. He has a huge workshop where he’s restoring an old ’68 Mustang. He texts me pictures every week, showing me what he’s done.”

“My dad will be just like that when he retires,” she said with a grin. “Which is years away. It’s nice that your parents are still together.” She grimaced. “Not that I want my parents to have stayed married. It was not a successful union.”

“Some aren’t.”

She looked at him. “I wasn’t implying anything.”

“I know. I didn’t plan on getting a divorce.”

“I don’t think anyone does.” She set her coffee on one of the magazines. “I’m sure it was painful.”

Griffith didn’t want to talk about his failed marriage or his ex-wife. Neither spoke well of him. But if he was looking to get involved with Kelly, then she had the right to know at least the basics of what had happened.

“And a surprise,” he said slowly and set his mug next to hers. “I met Jane in college. She was an English major and planning on getting her master’s in political science. She was smart, from a good family. On paper we had a lot in common. I planned on joining an East Coast architectural firm when I graduated. I was going to design hotels and museums.”

He raised a shoulder. “Shallow, right?”

“We all need somewhere to stay when we go on vacation.” She met his gaze. “What happened?”

“I went to a lecture about tiny homes. It was mostly so I could tell my professors that I’d attended. They like that sort of thing, and it was a chance to learn. What I didn’t expect was to be blown away by the possibilities.” He leaned toward her. “There’s so much we take for granted here in our country. Like access to clean water and sanitation. Did you know that in the world today over two billion people still don’t have access to toilets as we know them?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you kidding?”