didn’t need to see the clearing. And there were no ghosts.
With that final thought, she picked up Toby’s pet carrier and strode up the front porch and lifted the lid on the mail slot by the door. Connor had said he’d put a key in there for her. She had the impression he intended to interact with her as little as possible.
Which suited her just fine. She had the money she needed to do the remodeling on the house, and she was sort of looking forward to spending a few weeks in relative solitude handling all of it before she got things up and running.
Maybe then she’d look up her old friends. Or not. That would be...well, it would be too close to revisiting times that hadn’t been fun for anyone. Maybe she would meet a guy. Go on a date.
Lately she’d been out of the habit of both dating and making friends.
The moves made it hard. And if she was honest, starting fresh was her preference. She didn’t like bringing old places with her into the new ones. Not that there weren’t friends and boyfriends she had cared for. She had cared. She did. It was just that she liked them as happy memories. She didn’t like letting a relationship stretch on to the point it started to show wear and tear.
She pulled the brass key out of the box and put it in the matching lock, turning it hard before it gave. “All right, Toby,” she said. “Welcome home, whether we like it or not, because we can’t back out of the lease, and after I remodel this place, we’ll officially be broke.”
She walked them both inside and looked around. It was dark, but it was clean. The wood floors were definitely in need of polishing, but nothing was seriously wrong with them. There were some threadbare rugs that needed replacing, light fixtures that needed updating. But it didn’t smell like mold or anything, so that was a bonus.
“It really does have to work out,” she said, setting Toby’s carrier up on the kitchen table. “Because otherwise you’ll be reduced to standing on a street corner and offering kitty head scritches for money. And none of us want to see you stoop that low.”
She opened up his cage and he wandered out, looking around and sniffing the air, his tail twitching. She ran her hand over his gray striped fur, then scratched him behind his ears. “Really, though, you could charge for this service,” she said. “You give me instant Zen.”
Toby just looked at her, as though to say he would be much more Zen if they were back in their bright, white apartment in sunny San Diego.
But then, Toby was used to following her around at this point, so she knew his indignation would be brief.
First order of business was to get Toby’s litter box out of the car. The second was to start making this place habitable.
Like it or not, ready or not, she’d made a five-year commitment, and she had to see it through.
“All right, Toby,” she said. “It’s time to do this thing.”
* * *
“THERE WAS A CAR over at the Catalog House. I saw it when I pulled in,” Eli said.
“Yeah.”
Eli glanced at his brother, who was at the kitchen table looking more sullen and antisocial than usual. Which was saying something.
“And there was a light on,” Eli continued, pushing for an explanation.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“No shit. I thought you were the law enforcement around here. You’d think you could put two and two together.”
Eli was tempted to hit Connor over the head with something, but it was June. And June was a bad month for Connor, since it was his anniversary month. But then, March was a bad month for Connor, too, because it was Jessie’s birthday. And April was a bad month because it was the month she’d died three years ago. August was when they’d started dating, ten years ago. December was when they’d gotten engaged.
So basically, there were a lot of bad months for Connor. And Eli got it, and he hurt on his behalf. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to hit his brother for his obnoxious surliness sometimes.
“Would you care to explain?”
“Sure. We need some more revenue. I leased the house. Long-term.”
“What? Don’t you think we should have talked about this?” he asked.
“No,” Connor said. “Because while I respect that this ranch is yours, too, you have to respect that it’s more essential to me. It’s my only job, Eli. You and Kate have work outside this place, but I don’t, because someone has to run it full-time.”
“I know that, but you didn’t think about telling me you were going to lease out a house on our property?”
“I did think about it. I decided against it. Because I thought, at the end of the day, it was my damned decision.”
“Dammit, Connor, I say this with love, please get drunk and pass out. You’re impossible when you’re like this.”
“I’m always like this,” Connor said.
“Yeah, and you’re always impossible.”
“Why are you all growling in here?” Kate, the youngest of the Garrett clan, walked into the kitchen, her dark hair in a low ponytail. She looked like she’d been working hard all day, and it was probably because she had been.
“Because Connor’s in the room,” Eli told her.
Kate smiled and crossed to Connor, planting a kiss on his cheek. Connor grunted.
“I love you, too,” she said. “Did anyone make dinner?”
“No one made dinner,” Eli said. “We all have jobs. But I did bring a pizza, just in case.” Eli turned and put the box of pizza on the granite countertop. Kate started getting plates out of the cupboard.
This was Connor’s house, the main house on the property, which he’d shared with Jessie during their years as a married couple. He stayed because this was the family ranch, going back generations. Because he was the one who worked the land, and the one least likely to leave. This was his rightful place.
But Eli often got the feeling he hated it.
“I will take a beer now,” Connor said.
“Get it yourself,” Kate suggested. “I’m already dishing up your dinner, and I am not a waitress.”
“You wouldn’t get a tip if you were one,” Connor grumbled, getting up from his spot at the table and wandering to the fridge, jerking it open.
Eli noticed that there wasn’t much in it beyond beer and cheese. He wasn’t sure he liked what that said about his brother’s mental state. Or maybe it was just that Connor hadn’t had time to go shopping recently. That could be it.
“You should get a housekeeper,” Eli said.
Connor grunted, which was something he seemed to do a lot lately. “I don’t want a stranger rifling around in my stuff.”
“Then hire someone you know.”
“No.”
Eli took a piece of pizza out of the box and set it on a plate, doing his best to ignore Kate, who wasn’t using her plate, but was standing, arched over the bar, dripping sauce onto the otherwise clean surface.
Eli didn’t like that. He liked things in their place. He liked things clean. He’d spent too many years putting things in order to let them slide now.
When they’d been kids, cleanliness hadn’t just been a preference, it had been survival. Connor keeping things going on the ranch and Eli making it appear that there was a functional adult managing the household had been the only way to keep Child Protective Services away.
Order had been the only