Wow. He didn’t pull any punches. She gave him a direct look. It wasn’t any of his business, and she wasn’t his client. Grief counseling had been on her agenda for the last two years, and she wasn’t a stranger to counseling in general, but life circumstances made reconciling with the past a living nightmare.
Fine, she’d be honest. “No. Just . . .” Kaine searched her mind for the right answer but couldn’t find it. “Just trying to find my life again.”
Silence invaded the room as Grant’s eyes deepened with concern. But he didn’t push any further, and Kaine was grateful.
“Well.” Grant crossed his arms, his blue long-sleeved T-shirt stretching over his muscles. “How about we work on getting this place into shape so you can start your new life?”
Kaine couldn’t refuse him. Starting a new life had been her original objective in coming here, and if Grant’s presence, along with Joy’s and Megan’s and Olive’s, wasn’t enough company to keep danger at bay, then she might as well give up altogether.
Kaine handed Grant her list of to-dos as they perched on the front porch and ate sandwiches made from ingredients she stored in a cooler. Joy and Megan could be heard singing songs in the parlor from the Top 40 music charts from the 1970s. Kaine took a bite of her sandwich and watched expressions filter across Grant’s face.
“You think I’m out of my league, don’t you?” She spoke around a mouthful. Might as well be candid.
Grant pursed his lips and shrugged. “Well . . . these are all only surface repairs. Have you met with a contractor, a plumber, anyone?”
Kaine nodded and sipped her Pepsi. “Both. The day after I arrived here.”
“Huh.” Grant ran his finger down the list. “So they recommended mold remediation, window replacements, and porch repairs. What about the foundation? The roof? That’s a whole lot of expense if you throw it all together on an invoice.”
Kaine eyed him over her sandwich. He hadn’t earned the right to question her judgment or even her available finances.
“The foundation was sound. The roof . . . I’ll get to that.”
Grant simply nodded. He was wise enough not to question her further. He was going to have to move slowly if he wanted to gain her trust. Kaine brushed crumbs off her gray T-shirt. It was oversized and emblazoned with Yosemite National Park. It had been Danny’s. She needed to remind herself of him and focus less on Grant.
“Do you have any family?”
Kaine blinked. “Is this a question stemmed from friendship or are you analyzing me?”
Grant chuckled as he picked up his sandwich. “My dad says I’m always trying to understand everyone.” His eyes took on a studious glint and he tipped his chin out. “You’re most definitely not an open book, but I can tell you want to be.”
Bam. Nailed it. Kaine looked away and brushed more imaginary crumbs from her shirt. Of course she wanted to be. Leah called her Tsunami Kaine. She normally word-vomited all her thoughts on any unsuspecting soul as a means to process them. But this time? This was different. She’d never been accused of being unstable, or making false claims, or putting herself on the brink of trouble.
“No? Don’t want me to go there either?” Grant nodded again. “That’s fine.”
He popped open a can of Mountain Dew. “Syrup in a can,” Danny used to call it. Kaine was prone to agree.
She supposed honesty wouldn’t hurt her in this scenario. “Um, I have a sister.”
“She’s in California?”
Joy must have told Grant where Kaine heralded from. “Mm-hmm. She’s married. I have a little niece.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Wow. For a counselor, he didn’t tiptoe around.
“Husband.” Kaine’s sandwich bite went down much harder this time.
“Ahh.” Grant’s expression was unreadable. She wasn’t sure if what she said bothered him or if he’d expected it.
“He’s dead,” Kaine added, unable to stop herself.
A robin chortled from the soggy yard in front of them. Spring’s crisp freshness was in the breeze, which lifted Kaine’s hair in her ponytail.
“I’m sorry.” Grant’s tone was even. That made sense. He was accustomed to working with people in the throes of grief.
Kaine’s lips worked back and forth trying to determine whether she wanted to cry, share her story, or just stay quiet. “He was killed in a car accident two years ago. We were married not long after I graduated from college.”
Grant gave a nod and took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly. He didn’t say anything. His lack of response encouraged her, like an open invitation to continue.
“Danny always wanted to do a home restoration and he was raised in the Midwest. So I wanted to do this for him.”
She looked to Grant as if he were a temporary standin for Danny. But that was silly. He wasn’t.
“Cool.”
The word brought some assurance to Kaine and she smiled. “I found Foster Hill House online, and my brother-in-law lawyer is checking into the realtor. The pictures of the house were a misrepresentation. Even though the realtor came with references, he wasn’t as honest as we thought. Or else there’s some other weird explanation.”
Grant smiled but let her continue.
“Oakwood was where my grandpa was born. He left for California when he was eighteen. So when I saw Foster Hill House was for sale in the town where my family tree seemed to start, it made sense.”
“So is your surname of Prescott your husband’s?”
Kaine shook her head. “No. It’s my grandpa’s. Danny supported me in honoring Grandpa by keeping it. I wanted Grandpa alive in a small way. Is that strange?” Her question was honest.
“Not at all. It’s interesting.” Grant took another swig of his soda, his brows drawn together in thought. “My mother can trace our history back to the Vikings. But I know a lot of families, especially broken ones, who find those genealogies get lost.”
“I never paid much attention to my genealogy, and my grandpa lived during the sixties when everyone wanted free love and separation from tradition. So he wasn’t exactly one to foster the preservation of our lineage.”
“And your parents?”
“My father ran off when I was three,” Kaine said matter-of-factly. “That’s why my mom kept Grandpa’s name. She didn’t want us known by my deadbeat dad.” Kaine was indifferent to him really. Grandpa had always been her strong male influence. “My mom died when I was eight, so Grandpa raised my sister and me. She had breast cancer and, well, you know how that journey goes for some.” She paused, reflecting. Her memories of Mom were dim now. “You’d think I’d be used to losing people.”
“You never get used to that,” said Grant.