God told her? A bit charismatic for Kaine’s taste, but she had been praying for an answer. Not like Joy would pose much threat in the face of violence, but typically offenders preferred to get their victims alone. Kaine blinked a few times to clear her mind. So far, her stalker hadn’t threatened her bodily harm. Yet.
Olive’s cold nose touched the back of Kaine’s hand. She buried her fingers in the fur on the back of the old black lab’s neck. Going back to Foster Hill House? The image of Danny’s picture in the middle of that haunting, empty bedroom chilled Kaine.
“I wasn’t sure if I was going there today.”
Joy shrugged, her shoulders brushing the long earrings that hung from her lobes. “Honey, I can feel the ache inside you.” She reached out and wrapped Kaine in a motherly embrace. Kaine stood there, stiff and uncomfortable, enveloped in the older woman’s arms. “But I listen to the One who sent you here to me. We have things to do at that crazy old house. Floors to wash, dust to banish, and maybe some stories to uncover. Yes?”
Stories to uncover? For Joy, the old house was an adventure. Kaine’s gaze drifted to the top of the dresser where a page from Great Expectations lay beside Ivy’s ancient quilt. She had enough stories of her own to find the ending to, why would she want to uncover more?
Joy tossed a pair of blue jeans on the bed, pulled from her rather presumptuous but forgivable dive into Kaine’s duffel. As if she had no choice, Kaine went to retrieve the jeans. A quick change in the bathroom, zip of her jeans, and throwing on of a flannel shirt over a T-shirt made her feel more human. She ran a comb through her hair and tied it back in a low ponytail. Forget makeup. There was something to be said about this Midwestern organic honesty when it came to appearance. Finished, Kaine emerged, and Joy’s smile confirmed she was making the right decision. Following Joy, Kaine snapped her fingers at Olive. She paused on her way to the door to snatch up the page from Great Expectations and stuff it in the breast pocket of her shirt. For some reason, she needed it close to her heart.
“Hey.”
Kaine jumped in unison with her squeal. Spinning from the window in the third bedroom, her ponderings were shattered by the sight of Grant in the doorway. Kaine shot a look at Olive, who lounged in the corner of the room. Some guard dog. Olive’s tail thumped the wood floor, and her soulful eyes cast apologies in Kaine’s direction. Kaine made a pretense of acting casual and re-twisting the rubber band around her ponytail. Joy and Megan were downstairs wiping down the parlor walls. Light from the sun shown in every room with warmth and even welcome. Though Grant was no threat, still, she was edgy.
“You don’t believe in ringing a doorbell?” Ouch. She tried to infuse her voice with humor, but it didn’t work.
Grant was undeterred. “Foster Hill House has a front door?” He chuckled.
Funny, and good point. The missing front door had given Joy reason to lecture Kaine to hire a contractor as soon as funds allowed.
“How’s Olive?”
Of course, that was why Grant had come. Kaine avoided his searching stare. Why did he have to be so perceptive? Like he was searching her soul instead of inquiring about a dog. She reached for Olive, who rose to her feet and padded over, pushing her nose into Kaine’s hand.
“We’re building a solid relationship,” Kaine offered with a half smile.
“That’s good. We like to encourage long-term commitment at the shelter.” Grant’s lopsided grin widened Kaine’s. He was either super intelligent behind those black glasses or endearingly artsy. She wasn’t sure which.
The moment grew awkward. Silence. Yes, silence was awkward, but Kaine couldn’t think of anything to say. She looked away. The man hardly blinked. He was like some Jedi from Star Wars. No mind tricks on her today, no thank you.
“So I was thinking—maybe I could help you out here? With whatever demo you’re going to do. You’ve already engaged Joy and Megan, but there’s only so much dusting they can do.” His nose wrinkled when he grinned, but the scruff on his squared jaw gave him a charming appearance rather than boyish.
Grant’s offer was either creepy or downright heroic, Kaine wasn’t sure. If her life were a novel, Grant could end up being the villain who edged his way behind her defenses and then finished the job some day in one fell swoop. But she was letting her imagination run wild.
“I don’t know. . . .” Kaine hesitated.
“I’m not a creep, you know.” Grant called out her worst fear.
Kaine mustered a laugh. “Said the creep.”
Grant held his hands out, palms forward. “Really. I’ll give you the résumé of my life and you can check my references with Joy.”
Kaine waited and curled her fingers into Olive’s fur.
“I volunteer at the animal shelter about ten hours a week,” he offered.
Of course he did—he had nothing else to do?
“Contrary to common assumptions, I do not live with my mom.”
Crud. He’d read her mind. He was a Jedi!
“I’m a bachelor. I was engaged once about six years ago, but we called it off. It wasn’t dramatic. Mutual decision. She liked the sun and surf of Florida and I’m a native Wisconsinite. So, after I finished my master’s at UW-Madison, I moved back to Oakwood because it’s home. What can I say? I’m a homeboy.”
Kaine couldn’t help but laugh. He was reciting his past as if it were a job interview.
“I have a house just outside of town, about half a mile from here. That farmhouse down the road?”
Kaine nodded. So he was her neighbor? That explained how Megan could walk here from his house.
“For my day job, I’m a counselor. A grief counselor, actually. I do most of it out of my home office, and my assistant and I also hang with Megan on occasion.”
Whoa. She hadn’t seen that one coming. Kaine’s image of the artsy mama’s boy began to fade into a different picture. No wonder he always seemed like he was reading her.
Grant’s face softened as he saw the question on hers. “I sort of have a thing for tough cases.”
Tough cases. So did she. Or she had. Before she’d become one herself.
“I have a pit bull, Sophie. I play guitar for worship at a church just outside of town, and I like to read. Louis L’Amour westerns, preferably.”
Yep. That solidified it. The man was good-looking, creative, smart, and nice. God help her. She hadn’t paid attention to another man since Danny’s death, and now probably wasn’t the best time to start considering the opposite sex again.
Kaine crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her thumbs inside the fingerless gloves she’d donned for comforting warmth. The mustard-yellow yarn was a tiny bright spot in the gray of the house.
“Do you go to church?”
Now wait. Wasn’t this his life résumé? Not hers. She answered anyway. “I used to.” Kaine pushed her thumbs back through the thumb holes and picked at a loose thread. “It’s a long story.”
“Gave up on God?”