eye on Gracie.
But August was a long way off, and she had work to do in the meantime, Leah reminded herself as she continued on to the room off the den that she assumed would be hers during her stay there.
She’d thought she’d seen the worst possible mess in the kitchen and den, but the so-called nanny’s room, a fair-size bedsitting room with its own private bath, had even more horrors to offer. The bed had been left with sheets, blankets and pillows in disarray, as if the prior occupant had tumbled out, packed her bags and gone. Empty drawers gaped open in the chest and dresser, and in the bathroom used towels hung stiff as boards on the racks.
“What has been going on around here?” Leah demanded angrily of no one in particular, then answered with a twinge of sarcasm, “Apparently not much in the way of housekeeping.”
Dropping her suitcase on the serviceable gray carpet, she noted that it, at least, appeared to be clean.
In the bathroom, she opened cabinet doors until she found a stack of clean towels, then washed her face and hands. Feeling a little better, she retraced her steps to the staircase, grabbed Gracie’s bag and headed upstairs to the little girl’s bedroom.
On the landing, Leah saw that the first two rooms on either side of the hallway stood with doors closed. The room facing the back of the house was John’s study, she recalled from the photographs Caro had sent her, while the other was a guest room Caro had used mainly for storage. Farther along, two more rooms stood with doors open—the master bedroom and Gracie’s room, from which the faint illumination of a night-light glowed.
Postponing her confrontation with John just a little longer, Leah walked down the hallway and peeked into her niece’s bedroom. With her blond curls tumbled on the lace-edged pillow and her long eyelashes dark against her pale skin, Gracie looked like a princess peacefully sleeping under the canopy of her bed.
Leah set the bag on the floor, then tiptoed across the room. But as if sensing her aunt’s presence, Gracie stirred, opened her eyes and smiled sleepily.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Leah said, sitting on the bed beside her.
“You didn’t,” Gracie replied. “I was waiting for you to come and say good-night.”
“Well, then, good night, Gracie.” Leah smiled as she gently stroked the little girl’s curls, then bent to kiss her cheek.
“Good night, Aunt Leah.”
“Sleep tight…”
“…and don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Gracie finished with a giggle. Then, her sweet smile fading, she added more seriously, “I had a little talk with my dad.”
“Oh, you did, did you?”
“He promised not to be growly anymore.”
“Well, that’s nice to know.”
“I thought so, too.” Gracie closed her eyes again and snuggled more deeply under the quilt. “See you in the morning?” she asked softly.
“Count on it,” Leah said as she tucked the covers around the little girl’s shoulders.
She might not have had a warm welcome from John, much less a clean bed in which to sleep, but she wasn’t going to desert her niece under any circumstances.
Out in the hallway again, Leah paused. She was tempted to go back downstairs and set to work making her room habitable for the night. It was a perfectly good excuse to put off talking to John until the following day. But she knew that the sooner she faced him, the better it would be for all concerned.
She didn’t want him thinking she was going to creep around his house, giving him a wide berth and staying out of his way like a frightened puppy. She’d stood up to him often enough in the past without any serious repercussions. Granted, they had been children rather than adults then, but surely their maturity would work in her favor now. After all, he’d promised Gracie he wouldn’t be growly anymore, she told herself with a slight smile. She hoped the promise had included conversations with her, as well as his daughter.
Leah rapped firmly on the door to John’s study. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she walked in without waiting for an invitation. The room was as dark as the rest of the house had been. Only a glimmer of outside light coming through the blinds at the windows delineated the placement of the furnishings—a large desk and chair, bookshelves, a small leather sofa. Surprisingly well ordered, she noted, considering the condition of the rest of the house.
John stood by one of the windows, his back to her, making no effort to acknowledge her presence. Hands in the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders slumped, he gazed out at only he knew what.
Leah had been determined to stand up to him, to speak her mind about his earlier behavior and lay some ground rules. But the sight of him looking so…forlorn stole away the words she’d been prepared to say. Instead, she moved toward him quietly, wanting only to put her arms around him, to hold him close and assure him that everything would be all right.
Yes, his beloved Caro was dead, but he had Gracie to consider. And now she was there—his once and always friend—to help him begin to heal.
“Get out of here, Leah.”
Though pitched low, John’s voice lashed like a whip across the room, halting her in midstep. Momentarily stunned by the depth of his animosity toward her, Leah gripped the edge of his desk to steady herself. She saw in an instant how his shoulders had straightened, how he now held his hands at his sides, clenched into fists.
He was ready for a fight. More than that, he wanted one. But why? she wondered. She’d never been his enemy—
“Are you deaf, Leah? I told you to get out,” he repeated, this time honoring her with a pointed glance over one shoulder.
“John, please, I’ve come here to help,” she began, trying to get him to be reasonable.
“I don’t want or need your charity,” he muttered darkly, turning away again.
“I’m not sure what you mean by charity.” Truly puzzled by his comment, she eyed him silently, waiting for some further explanation. When he offered none, she ventured softly, “You obviously need some help around here and I’m more than willing to provide it. I thought you understood. More than that, I thought you agreed—”
“Me, agree? Not likely, Leah. And as for you being willing?” He laughed softly without any humor. “You’re only here because Cameron and Georgette played on your sympathy.”
“How can you say that?” she demanded, unable to hide her dismay. “Surely you know how much I care about you and Gracie.”
Her father and stepmother had played on her sympathy, but John had to know that that alone wouldn’t have brought her home again. Why, then, was he treating her like an adversary?
“Right, Leah. You care about us so much that you’ve only now come back to Missoula after eight years away. You didn’t even bother to come home for Caro’s funeral.” He paused for a moment, as if only then aware of what he’d revealed, then forged on with surly determination. “Now you want me to believe you’re here out of the goodness of your heart and you expect me to be grateful? No way in hell—”
“I was traveling in Southeast Asia when Caro died. I didn’t even know about the accident until two weeks after it happened,” Leah reminded him, realizing at last what had caused him to be so upset with her. She’d thought he knew and understood why she hadn’t been able to be there for him during those weeks immediately following Caro’s death. But it seemed he hadn’t, and he’d held it against her ever since. “I wrote to you then, John. A long letter you never answered. If you needed me, why didn’t you let me know? I would have come.”
“Because I didn’t need you then, just like I don’t need you now. Simple enough, isn’t it? So why don’t you grab your suitcase and just get the hell out of here,” he said again with a quiet emphasis that almost had her scurrying