denied knowledge of it.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him. If she had been the fanciful sort, she might have thought he’d cast some kind of magic spell on her. Instead, she blamed it on the flowers. She had always been a sucker for roses.
“Rachel?” Faith asked for the third time
Rachel snapped out of her musings with a start. “I’m sorry. What?”
A gentle smile turned the corners of Faith’s mouth, setting her heartshaped face aglow. “I was just going to suggest a coffee break.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Rachel stammered, embarrassment heating her face. She stifled the urge to rub at the spots of color blooming on her cheekbones, winding her hands more firmly around the book she clutched against the front of her baggy pink T-shirt.
Suddenly Addie stamped her booted foot. “You’re thieves, the lot of you! You’re going to steal my bird cages. I won’t stand for it, I tell you. I’m going to call the police!”
“Mother!” Rachel wailed, at the end of her emotional rope. She had been over this with Addie a half dozen times. It was difficult to tell herself that Addie had undoubtedly forgotten every one of those conversations, that she wasn’t being difficult deliberately. “Don’t go dragging that horrid deputy out here again.”
“He’ll get to the bottom of this business,” Addie said. “He can find that ugly ghost while he’s out here, too, and haul you all away together.”
“If he hauls anyone away, it’ll be you, Mother. He’s angry enough with you as it is.”
Addie tossed the last of her celery stalk at her daughter and stomped toward the door. Bryan headed her off.
“Hennessy, get out of my way,” Addie commanded.
“Not a chance, beautiful,” he said with an amicable grin. “You know you have the most lovely complexion, Addie. How do you keep it that way?”
Addie blushed like a schoolgirl. She had always been vain about her flawless skin. Bryan’s compliment bolstered her flagging ego and easily derailed her thoughts from calling the police.
“All the Gunther women have beautiful skin,” she said coyly, patting a hand to her pale cheek. “It’s an old family secret.”
“Ah, a secret,” Bryan said with great relish. He took her arm and tucked it in his. “I’ve got one too. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. Then we’ll dance the tango on the lawn.”
Rachel watched, bemused by the strange mix of feelings inside her as Bryan led her mother away. “Is he ever serious about anything?”
“Oh, yes,” Faith said on a long sigh of remembrance. Heedless of the layer of dust, she settled herself on an old desk and folded her hands in the lap of her worn jeans. “We went for a long time without seeing Bryan smile after he lost Serena.”
“Serena?”
“His wife,” Faith said gently. She paused then to let Rachel absorb the information, compassion welling inside her at the look of shock on the woman’s face. “She passed away about a year and half ago. Cancer.”
“I-I didn’t know.” Rachel felt as if she’d been hit by a truck. Her knees wobbled, and she sat down on a huge square iron bird cage.
Bryan had been married. He had been in love with a woman who had died. Oh, Lord, she thought, unable to stop the tears that flooded her eyes, what a disservice she’d done him, thinking he had never had to endure pain or accept responsibility.
“So if we seem a little overindulgent of his silliness,” Faith went on, “it’s only because we missed it so much. Besides,” she added, summoning up one of her sunny smiles, “there’s a lot more to Bryan than meets the eye.”
“I’d already guessed that,” Rachel mumbled.
Dammit, she thought, she felt completely off balance. She felt utterly guilty and mean and self-centered. Anger struggled to life inside her. She didn’t need this. She had enough emotional baggage to deal with. She couldn’t afford to spend her energy on dealing with Bryan’s as well. It was just one more reason she shouldn’t get more deeply involved with him.
If they’d met at some other place and time in their lives, things might have been different. But the facts remained: she had her mother to take care of, Bryan had his own wounded heart to heal, and they wanted to deal with those issues in two completely different ways. She could see no answer other than practicality, no matter how unpleasant it might be. He chose to gloss everything over with magic and foolishness.
Rachel looked up suddenly, and in the next instant Bryan danced through the door with Addie in his arms. Her mother’s cheeks were flushed, and she held a rose between her teeth. He deposited her in a high-backed chair and strode toward Rachel purposefully, stopping before her with an earnest look on his face.
“Dorothy,” he said. “I believe the munchkins have arrived.”
“The what?” Faith asked.
Rachel, however, knew exactly what he was referring to. She had spoken of this place as Oz. But who exactly the munchkins were, she didn’t know. Her eyebrows lifted in question.
Bryan glanced back over his shoulder to make sure Addie wasn’t listening. She was twirling her rose by its stem and softly singing a snatch of something from
“But I haven’t put it on the market yet,” Rachel said. “How did they know it was for sale?”
“I wonder,” Bryan said, stroking a hand back through his sandy hair. Behind his glasses his eyes took on a faraway look. “I wonder.”
Rachel excused herself and went out into the hall, wondering why she wasn’t eager to meet these prospective buyers. She’d been worried that they would have trouble unloading the house, it was in such a sad state of disrepair. She should have been bubbling over about this turn of events, but she wasn’t.
Swinging the heavy front door back, she immediately saw what Bryan had meant by “remarkable-looking.” One of the men was about five feet tall and nearly as wide. His head was as round and bald as a bowling ball. His companion was a few inches taller, built like a rail, and had a face with sharp, sly features and deepset eyes. There was a fading blue bruise on his left cheek.
Rachel cleared her throat delicately and offered her visitors a polite smile. “Can I help you? I’m Rachel Lindquist.”
The rotund one stuck out a dimpled hand. “Miles Porchind, Miss Lindquist,” he said with a smile, “and my partner, Felix Rasmussen. May we take a few moments of your time to discuss some business?”
Her immediate reaction to the men was dislike, but she reminded herself beggars couldn’t be choosers, and invited the prospective buyers inside. She led the way to the study, the skin on her back prickling as she felt their gazes on her.
Once in the room, Porchind and Rasmussen looked around with hungry eyes, taking in the paneling, the old furniture, the bookshelves-particularly the bookshelves, with their dusty old tomes. Their expressions were like those of starving men who had stumbled into a bakery. Rachel half expected them to start salivating. Grimacing in distaste at the thought, she seated herself behind the desk and motioned the men to help themselves to seats. Oddly, they chose to sit side by side on the leather love seat, with Porchind taking up more than half of it.
Bryan wandered in then, jugging two apples and an orange. “Hello again,” he said, sending the men his most innocuous grin. He caught two pieces of fruit against his chest with his right arm, caught the remaining apple in his left hand, and promptly took a bite out of it.
“We’re here to discuss business with Miss Lindquist,” Porchind said with a trace of annoyance.
“So you said. Care for a piece of fruit?”
They merely stared at him, then turned to Rachel, clearly hoping she would toss Bryan out on his ear.
“It’s all right,” Rachel said. “Mr. Hennessy is the family retainer.”
She supposed she shouldn’t have, but she wanted Bryan there with her, and, for once, she gave in to her desire. He shot her a wink that seemed inappropriately intimate, and immediately heat streaked through her body. She had to force her mind back to the business at hand.
“Bryan tells me you’re interested in purchasing the house,” she said. “May I ask where you heard it was for sale?”
