“Not a problem.” He made a note on a pad of paper.
She thought about wrestling all the wallpaper sample books from her car to the hotel room. It would take her hours to get them inside.
“As far as picking out wallpaper, what about bringing the sample books to the house? I’ll be living there in a few days, anyway.”
“And checking up on me.” His voice was teasing. “Figures.”
“I’ll admit I’m interested to see how it all comes together. It’s difficult for me to look at a drawing and then imagine how the change is going to look in real life.”
He leaned forward. “Spend as much time as you want watching. Seriously, Rose, this is going to be your home. You have every right to make sure you’re getting exactly what you want. I hire skilled craftspeople who do excellent work. I have nothing to hide. In fact I would encourage you to check out the quality. I’m proud of my crew.”
“You also like what you do.”
He nodded. “I’m lucky that way. I knew what I wanted from the time I was about eight and my dad started letting me tag along on jobs. For a while my folks tried to push me to become an architect, but I’d rather be building than drawing.”
There was an eagerness and excitement in his voice. She remembered all the times he’d wanted to talk about his work, and she’d told him that hearing about it was as interesting as watching paint dry. Had she been crazy? Del wasn’t boring, he was a good, honest man. She sure had been a witch. The question was why? What had she been so angry about?
“I promise I won’t get in the way,” she said, forcing herself to relax and even smile. “At least I’ll try not to. I don’t move all that quickly.”
Questions darkened his eyes, but he was too polite to ask. Josie found herself torn between wanting to share the details of her accident and knowing that it was too soon for those confessions. They might lead to others she wasn’t ready to deal with. But she had a strong urge to tell him that she’d hadn’t always been so broken. That there had been a time when she could walk and run just like a normal person.
Instead she rose to her feet and steadied herself with her cane. “I’ll leave you to get started, then,” she said.
He stood and came around to her side of the desk. “I’m looking forward to the project. Call me if you have any questions.”
Instead of offering to shake her hand, he lightly touched her arm. She felt the brush of his fingers and the resulting heat all the way down to the soles of her feet. It was as if he’d set fire to her blood. Talk about a complication. Being attracted to her ex-husband was a huge mistake.
She wanted to tell him that she was sorry she’d been so difficult. After only a couple of conversations with Del, she’d remembered enough of the past to realize why they were divorced. It was one of the reasons she avoided dealing with the breakup. She hadn’t wanted to know how much of the fault was hers. She didn’t have a choice anymore. She was back where it had all started and she was here to get answers. Apparently from herself as well as Del.
She gave him a quick smile and hurried from the room, which for her meant an awkward hobble. Once in the safety of her car, she vowed that she would figure out what she needed from Del and tell him the truth as soon as possible. Just not today.
Wednesday morning she arrived at the house only to find the driveway filled with construction trucks. The familiar blue vehicles with the Scott Construction sign painted on the doors made her hesitate before climbing out of her Volvo. She’d been gone for three years, but most of Del’s crew had worked for him much longer than that. Which meant she would know a good number of them. Del hadn’t recognized her. Would they?
Josie thought about running away but knew she would have to face them all eventually. After all, by the end of the week she would be living in the house. She consoled herself with the fact that if her husband hadn’t recognized her, no one else would, either. It wasn’t much comfort but it was the best she could come up with under the circumstances. She sucked in a deep breath for courage, then began the laborious process of walking up to the front door and entering the Victorian mansion.
The sound of conversation and power tools filled the old place. She stood just inside the foyer and breathed in the scent of wood, dust and change. Above her the old chandelier glittered in the bright morning light, while rays of sunshine illuminated floating clouds of dust.
Huge, heavy squares of canvas protected the hardwood floors from footsteps and spills. There were ladders leaning against walls, piles of tools and supplies in various corners and plans pinned up on walls. As she walked into the main room she saw a ratty old brown sofa and three recliners. She recognized the threadbare pieces of furniture. The crew carried them from job to job and sprawled on them during breaks, lunches and meetings.
Josie turned in a slow circle taking in the differences brought by only two days of work. Already the kitchen was gutted. Someone had chipped the tiles out of the guest bath on the first floor and a breeze cut through the house from an opening left by a removed window.
A tall, lanky man with bright-red hair walked by. He balanced several boards on one of his broad shoulders.
“Ma’am,” he said, giving her a polite nod as he passed.
She smiled and reminded herself that calling Jerry or any of the men by name would be a mistake. She couldn’t know them until they were introduced.
She followed his progress, noting that he didn’t break stride or turn for a second look. She was a stranger to him. Which was good. She hadn’t come this far to have her cover blown. She consoled herself with the thought that if this was a year ago, when she was still wrapped in bandages and could have easily doubled for a mummy woman, she would have sent the entire crew screaming for sanctuary.
“What’s so funny?”
She hadn’t realized she’d been smiling until she felt her lips straighten. She glanced up and saw Del standing in the entrance to the kitchen. He leaned against the door frame, looking as strong and handsome as ever, darn the man. Today he wore a navy T-shirt tucked into jeans. The soft fabric of the T-shirt clung to his chest, outlining every inch of muscle. Just to make her situation worse, she knew what he would look like without his clothes and that image was even better.
Her breath caught in her throat when he pushed off the support and walked toward her. Or maybe her breathing problem came from the fact that he actually sauntered. A slow, male movement that reminded her of a tiger staking out territory. Is that what he was doing with her? She desperately wanted to believe it was true.
“You were chuckling about something,” he said when he came to a halt less than a foot in front of her. “Are you afraid we’ll never get your house back together?”
“Not at all. I was thinking about some surgery I had a while back. How I would have frightened everyone if I’d come in wrapped in bandages.”
“I think we would have survived.”
He touched a hand to the small of her back, urging her to take a step to the side. As she did, a man of medium height but built like a fullback came through carrying armfuls of tools. She recognized Mark right away, but again didn’t say anything to the man. Like Jerry, Mark gave her a polite nod.
She saw his gaze slide to the cane and then to her legs. Self-consciousness flooded her. Today was one of her bad days, when getting out of bed and forcing herself to stand had taken nearly all her reserves. She was stiff and suffering from muscle cramps and fatigue. The result of missing too many therapy sessions. But that couldn’t be helped. Once she got settled in the house on Friday, she would find a therapist close by and get back to her treatments. Until then she would survive-on sheer will if necessary.
“Come see what we’ve done,” Del said, pointing to the kitchen. “It’s empty.”
“I noticed. I guess I’m going to learn the phone number of every nearby takeout place, huh?”
He pointed to a list on the wall by a battered black phone. “Already done. Just part of the excellent Scott family service. I recommend the Chinese place. It’s the best. So’s the Mexican, but that’s better at the restaurant because they have terrific margaritas.”
He stepped back and touched a small refrigerator tucked under a makeshift counter made of sawhorses topped by plywood. “It won’t hold a week’s worth of shopping but it will get you by for now.”
She pointed at a microwave sitting on top of the counter. “A loaner?”
“Exactly. We want you to be comfortable during the construction. Dust and noise can’t be avoided but we try to
