field that might eventually produce someone who could do something to effect the masses,” he told her, leaving it at that.
“The masses?” she questioned, eyeing him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. “You make it sound as if you were part of the CIA.”
“No, not that organization,” he replied.
“But you won’t talk about it?” she asked, really curious now.
“I’m not being paid to talk, I’m being paid to work,” he reminded her, picking up the sledgehammer again. But Tiffany made no move to leave the area. She was obviously waiting for him to tell her what he was referring to. “I’d rather not jinx it,” he finally told her, being quite honest.
She cocked her head, trying to reconcile a few things in her brain that just weren’t meshing. “You’re superstitious?”
“Just in this one respect.”
“Good,” she said, turning to leave as he began to work again. “Because superstitions are stupid.”
It was her. If he’d had the slightest doubt before, he didn’t anymore, Eddie decided. She was just as opinionated now as she had been then.
As she left the room, he slanted a long look in her direction. From there he couldn’t see her face, only the back of her head. But even the set of her shoulders looked familiar.
It was Tiffany Lee, all right. And right now, he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. The only thing he knew was that he wasn’t going say anything to her about their shared past. At least, not yet.
Since Tiffany apparently didn’t recognize him, Eddie decided to keep the fact that they had a history to himself and not say anything to her until he felt the time was right—like after he finished the job. After all, he couldn’t have made that much of an impression on her if she didn’t remember him. He vividly remembered their interactions in college, but it was obvious that she didn’t. If he reminded her of it, she might just turn around and fire him.
It was best to leave well enough alone.
Working at a steady pace, he demolished the bathroom and then carted the debris out to his truck until it was filled, at which time he hauled it to the county dump. That involved a number of round trips. All in all, it took him practically the entire day.
He worked continuously, taking only one thirty-minute break to consume a fast-food lunch that was far from satisfying.
By four thirty, he was completely wiped out and decided to call it a day. But he didn’t want to just pack up and leave, the way he knew some people in his line of work would. He wanted Tiffany to be made aware that he was leaving for the day. Otherwise, she might wind up thinking she had to wait around for him to return.
When he didn’t see her during his multiple trips back and forth to his truck while he was packing up his tools and equipment, Eddie resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to go looking for her. Since she hadn’t said anything about leaving the house, he assumed she had to be on the premises somewhere.
As unobtrusively as possible, he went through both floors of the house, going from room to room.
Tiffany wasn’t anywhere to be found.
Would she just leave the house—and him—without saying anything? Granted, it wasn’t as if she had to check in with him, since technically, he was the one working for her. But just walking out without letting him know that she was going or when she’d be back didn’t seem quite right to him.
What if something came up and he wanted to go home while she was out? He couldn’t very well just leave her house standing wide open. That was tantamount to issuing an invitation to any burglar in the area. And despite the fact that if anything happened, it wouldn’t be his fault, he would still feel responsible if someone did break in and steal something.
With a sigh, Eddie resigned himself to waiting for her to come home. That was when he happened to glance out the rear bedroom window. It was facing the tidily trimmed backyard, which was where Tiffany had disappeared to.
She appeared to be completely engrossed in a book. She was sitting at a small oval table in the little gazebo that was off to one side of the yard.
He should have thought of looking there first! Eddie upbraided himself as he left the bedroom and hurried down the staircase. After all, it was a beautiful April day.
Since she had obviously taken it upon herself to stick around while he worked, he could understand Tiffany wanting to take advantage of the weather. Which explained why she was outside, reading a book.
After reaching the bottom of the stairs, Eddie went to the rear of the house and opened the sliding glass door. It groaned a little as he did so. He debated leaving the door open—after all, informing her that he was leaving for the day wasn’t going to take any time, he reasoned. But then he thought better of it—just in case—and pulled the door closed again.
Despite the groaning noise, Tiffany didn’t even look up.
She was totally engrossed in the book she was reading—a real book, he noted with a smile, not one of those electronic devices that held the entire contents of the Los Angeles Public Library within its slender, rectangular frame.
For a moment he said nothing. He almost hated to disturb her, but he really needed to get going.
His body ached from swinging his sledgehammer and hauling out the wreckage that had been her bathroom just eight hours ago. What he craved right now was a long, bracing shower with wave after wave of hot, pulsating water hitting every tight muscle and ache he had—and a few that he probably didn’t even know he had.
Eddie cleared his throat, waiting for her to look up. But either she was too caught up in the story or he was being too quiet, because Tiffany went right on reading.
He tried clearing his throat again, much louder this time. When that had no effect, he decided to say something outright and tell her that he was leaving for the day.
He had no idea exactly how to address her; calling her “Ms. Lee” just didn’t seem right to him, since the very first time their paths had crossed they’d lived in the same neighborhood. She’d been four and he’d been five at the time. But given the nature of their present relationship, he couldn’t very well call her “Tiffany,” at least not until she recognized him.
So after giving the matter as much thought as he felt it deserved—which was very little—Eddie decided to forgo any salutation whatsoever and merely announced in a resonant voice that was bound to get her attention, “I’m leaving now.”
Startled—Tiffany really had been engrossed in the book she was reading, a fast-paced mystery by one of her favorite writers—she looked up and was truly surprised to find she was no longer alone in the backyard.
Doing what she could to reestablish her poise, she put down her book and then inquired almost regally, “You’re finished?”
Eddie nodded. “For the day.”
“But you’re coming back tomorrow, right?” she asked a little uncertainly as she got up from the small redwood table.
“I said I’d finish remodeling the bathroom, so yes, I’m coming back.” Since they were talking, he had a more important question for her. “Have you given any more thought to what you want?” Realizing she might find the sentence rather ambiguous, he quickly added, “In the way of colors? Fixtures? Styles?”
“I thought we agreed to leave that up to you.” The truth was she hadn’t given any thought to it at all.
He frowned slightly. “I didn’t think you were serious.”
There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t want some sort of input when