if I remember... Yes, the one with an animal opens...” Dave reached for the tiny carved squirrel and tried twisting and turning the decoration. Nothing happened.
To Craig’s total relief. Sweat trickled down his back. Had the heat kicked in? He searched for any excuse to leave. “I think the crew has returned. I’d better get back to work.”
“Thanks for lunch,” Trish said.
“You provided the ingredients. Dave and I merely threw them together.”
She reached for his arm. “I’ll walk you out.” When she disentangled herself from Harrison, he gave Craig a fish-eyed glare but didn’t join them.
“The meal brought back great memories, Trish. Thank you.”
“And it tasted just as good as when Gram served it.” Trish chuckled. “I don’t think Harrison appreciated it much.”
“How could he? It’s only special to us.” Craig reached in his pocket and pulled out her key. “I didn’t get a chance to put it back.”
She took it from him, gripping his hand. “I’ll take care of it.” Her fingers felt cold in his.
“You might not want to keep it in such an obvious place. Especially if what Dave said is true. Your antiques have some great value.” He held on to the old-fashioned metal a moment longer while he thought about it.
“Yeah, what a surprise.” Trish removed the key from his hand. “I’ll find a better hiding place.”
“You know, you really need these locks upgraded to dead bolts.”
“But this works well.” She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks for everything.”
Surprised that she’d be affectionate in front of Harrison, Craig turned toward her just as Harrison came over and placed an arm around her shoulders. As he pulled her out of Craig’s reach, he said, “He’s right. Dead bolts are a must.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“You do that. Nice meeting you,” Harrison said, but his expression didn’t reflect any pleasure.
“Same here.” Craig gave the lie back, not adding any warmth in his reply.
* * *
DAVE WENT THROUGH each room, scribbling notes in a small loose-leaf notebook. Occasionally he took pictures, and he appeared extremely pleased at each new encounter. Although the upstairs bathrooms held no treasures, Dave said that claw-foot tubs were a real find. In one bathroom, he kicked at the linoleum that had begun to curl against the wall before he dropped to one knee and held on to the tub’s rim.
“These tubs are magnificent.” He examined it thoroughly both inside and out. “I rarely see so many beautiful details in an old house like this that haven’t fallen into decay.”
“Can I get a good price for the tubs?”
Dave straightened. “Is it true you plan to sell the house?”
Trish glanced at Harrison. “Well, yes.”
“Then I suggest you leave the tubs. You’ll fetch a much higher price.”
Harrison chortled. “Really?” He leaned over and pulled on the linoleum, managing to rip off a good chunk of it. “How much will this add to the value?” After showing the curling piece to Dave, he tossed it into the tub. “Who buys this kind of stuff?”
“I would.” Dave stood straighter. “In fact, I’ve been giving it more thought. Craig said he’s keeping the building’s integrity intact. I particularly like that he’s not removing the gingerbread. Yes, I’m definitely considering it.” He turned to Trish. “Do you have any other buyers in mind?”
Before Trish could say no, Harrison took over the conversation. “We’re looking into all possible avenues. And we’ll certainly consider any offers.” He wrapped an arm around Trish’s shoulders and drew her close. “Right, honey?”
Dave beamed. “Good. I’ll talk to my uncle and see what he thinks.”
* * *
BY THE TIME Harrison was ready to leave in his gold Lexus, the nail drivers had started again on the roof. “How can you stand the noise?” Harrison held her hands and pressed his lips against them. “I’ll be back early Sunday in my jeans and some old sneakers so we can get going on the painting. I hope the heat will be back on so we can work in some form of comfort.”
“It will be. Craig will...”
“I don’t know about this Craig. Is he really competent?” Harrison glanced at the roof. “He seems awfully young.”
“He is, but I’d trust him with any project. He was trained by the best.”
Harrison’s expression hardened. “I’d prefer you didn’t stay here. It’s not safe. Especially with those locks.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I grew up here and know almost everyone in town. Besides, the police department and fire department are just down the block. This is a hundred times safer than either of our apartments back in the city.” She waited a moment before adding, “So, you’re really looking forward to transferring to California?”
Harrison placed his fingers against her mouth. “Let’s not talk about it before I go. I don’t want to jeopardize my chances.”
Harrison wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and nearly squeezing all the air out of her lungs. She pushed away to be able to breathe. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
“Training sessions. They’ll take about ten days. Sorry I’ll miss Thanksgiving, but I’ll get a turkey sandwich and wish I was with you.” He kissed her, one of those passionate kisses that promised so much more. He started to laugh as he pulled away. “Hey, you could be doing training sessions now that you’re taking that new position. I told you the job had its perks.”
Trish watched Harrison leave, waving until he disappeared down the street. How nice of him to take time away from his busy schedule just to see her. She thought about the possibilities of her new job. An office of her own. A pay increase. Travel. For some reason she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm. Nor did she want to think of the ramifications of moving to California.
Now that she had returned to Riverbend, she realized this house, this neighborhood and the people she knew intimately were still important to her. Her heart felt ready to burst with affection.
She turned as Marty Cassidy drove his truck into her driveway. “Marty,” she called as she walked to the driver’s side. His door opened and he dropped to the ground, his flaming hair still as untamed as she remembered from high school. She transferred the passion she’d just felt for her hometown onto him with a warm hug and ran her hand through his unruly locks. “You look exactly the same.” She pulled away. “Except for a few extra pounds.”
“What can I say? My wife’s a great cook.”
Someone nudged Trish’s back, and she turned to see Craig reach past her. “Glad you could make it today.”
The two men shook hands. “Yeah, I know the pipes are about to explode.”
“So who did you marry, Marty? Anyone I know?”
“Mary Ellen Sinclair.” He grinned and Trish nodded, remembering Mary Ellen from their high school classes. “And we have three girls. Triplets.”
Trish grinned. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be blessed with three girls? “You planning on any more?”
“No, just the triplets for now. Mary Ellen said we wait till these three are out of diapers.” Marty turned to Craig. “So how many kids are you and Cyndi planning to have?”
Craig exhaled in a puff. “Zero.”
Trish waited for an explanation while Marty dived right in with a