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“Don’t you miss me?”
“Of course I do,” I protested. “I’ve just been busy. That’s all. New apartment, new job, remembering to drive on the right side of the road.”
Again, I judiciously edited, because I didn’t think Stephen would be impressed by my finding long-lost vampire relatives or making friends with mercurial construction workers.
“Well, I miss you terribly,” he said. “Nothing is fun without you. There’s no one to put her ice-cold feet on the backs of my legs while I’m sleeping. No one keeps up a steady stream of trivia and interesting facts while I’m watching films. I actually had to resort to watching a DVD with the director’s commentary. It was demoralizing. And the bread! I’m wasting the heels of my bread loaves shamelessly without you around to toast them.”
A pleased, sweet warmth flooded my chest. Stephen was always noticing little things like that, which gave him considerable skill when it came to date planning. He knew exactly how far to push the gooshy romantic factor before it became too saccharine to tolerate.
“The heels make the best toast,” I told him, my tone soft and amused. “The outside crust forms a protective layer to hold more jam.”
“When are you coming home?” he asked.
“Soon,” I promised him. “It’s just a few months; it will be up before you know it.”
“It’s not fair to put our lives on hold for that long, Nola. I’m holding off on this move for you, you know.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that,” I reminded him. “You could pick a flat, move in, and get settled. I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”
“I don’t want to make those decisions without you there. What if I pick the wrong place? I don’t know why this fellowship was necessary.” He sniffed. “You could have earned the same credentials here at home if you’d only looked. Every time we get close to moving in together, you find some way to sabotage it. Or your family does. I’m starting to think you’re happy living in that backward little town.”
“Well, it’s not without its charms,” I insisted. “Once you get past the driving issue and the strange tea. I told you, the people are quite nice here.”
“I was talking about Kilcairy.”
“Well, why wouldn’t I want to live there? My whole family is there.”
“Yes, your family,” he said in a tone he might have used if he were saying, “Yes, toe fungus.” It was difficult for Stephen to understand how large families worked. He saw his own parents for holidays and the occasional fly-by dinners, and that was the extent of their relationship. He had no siblings, no uncles or aunts or cousins, and his grandparents died when he was in primary school. It was easy to understand why my family overwhelmed him. Although it didn’t hurt my feelings any less.
“Stephen, I need to get off the phone. It’s late here, and I need to get some sleep. I have work tomorrow.”
“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll call you in a few days. I love you.”
“Me, too.” I rolled over, tucking my pillow over my chin, feeling vaguely sick to my stomach. How had the conversation gone from sweet to sour so quickly? How could Stephen seem to know me so well one minute and then not at all the next? How was I going to fix this? I couldn’t go running back home, abandoning a sacred duty because my boyfriend was peeved.
Stephen was just going to have to deal with it.
* * *
I awoke to the sounds of pounding and hammering on the walls outside my bedroom. I started awake, rolled out of bed, and landed on my face. “Oh, what in the—” After stumbling to my feet, I shoved the window sash up and shoved my head outside. Men on ladders seemed to be ripping off the wooden siding in places, while others were climbing on the roof and tossing damaged shingles into the yard, where yet another man scooped them up and threw them onto an open-top wagon. At the edge of the yard, I could see a woman (who I later learned was the much-beloved Iris Scanlon) directing the delivery of several hydrangeas and rosebushes.
Jed was on the ladder just a few feet from my window, yanking a rotten shingle away from its moorings. And, of course, he was shirtless, his tanned skin glistening as he moved under the morning sun.
So far, this was a mixed bag in terms of a wake-up call.
“What in bleeding hell is going on?” I called to him.
He grinned brightly . . . or perhaps he was amused by my bed hair. “Mornin’! I don’t know what you said to Mr. Cheney, but he had Sam hire four new daytime guys to come out and put a rush job on the renovations. He said, and I quote, ‘Fix everythin’ up. Make it nice for her. No detail is too small. And don’t skimp on the flowers in the front flower beds.’ Also, there’s an exterminator coming out this afternoon. And if you don’t mind, I’m gonna come in tomorrow and paint the downstairs rooms. Dick said you can stay with him for a few days if the fumes bother you.”
“Huh.” It was a brilliant, eloquent response, I know. Dick had explained the night before that Mr. Wainwright had sold his family home sometime in the 1970s and, for convenience’s sake, moved into the apartment above his shop. The new owners had divided it into apartments and neglected the house terribly before selling out to Dick the year before. Because of what Dick would only call “Jane problems,” he hadn’t had time to fix it up before now. Why the sudden rush after meeting me? And what did he mean, I could stay with him and Andrea if the paint fumes were too much? I barely knew these people. Why would I impose on them in that way?
If I’d had the energy, I would have whacked my head against the window frame.
“You know he’s married, right?” Jed said.
“No—I mean, yes. I’ve met his wife. I just guess I’ve made a good impression on him, is all,” I said, frowning while I recalled his inappropriately friendly greeting at the shop.
First, the hugs and face squeezing, and now this? What was with Dick Cheney? Had I developed my very own vampire stalker? I wondered if it was a good idea to stay in this house. Dick had keys. As my landlord, he had to give me notice before he entered, but I doubted fair rental laws would do much to protect me from an obsessive vampire. I would have to talk to Jane about this.
