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But the woman didn’t care. Heck, she acted as if Grace wasn’t there, and she whistled when she stepped into the great room.
“Damn. Mattie’s done well for himself.” She turned in a full circle, eyes darting here and there, touching all of his things with a greedy glint lighting up their pale depths. “Who’d of thought?”
“Excuse me. I really don’t feel comfortable lettin
g a stranger in this house when Matt’s—“
The woman’s head whipped around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t snap her neck. “I am not a stranger,” she said, enunciating the words as if she was making some kind of political speech.
Okay. Grace was just about done with her, and more than a little concerned that she’d allowed a certifiable crazy person into Matt’s home.
“I’m Delilah.”
The seconds ticked by and Delilah looked as if she were waiting for Grace to say something. But what did she say?
“Um, okay, Delilah. I’ll tell Matt you came by and, uh, does he have your contact information?”
The woman, Delilah, laughed at Grace and then wandered over to the island where she picked up the note Matt had left for Grace.
“You have no idea who I am, do you?” She glanced down at the note and laughed. “Bluebell? What the hell kind of name is that?”
That was it. Grace was done. She marched across the room and snatched the note out of the woman’s hand.
“I don’t know who you and I don’t care. You need to leave and you need to leave now. When Matt gets back, I’ll let him know that you stopped by.”
Delilah smiled. She made a smacking noise with her lips and then cocked her head to the side. “I can see why he likes you.” She dug in her coat pocket and popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “He’s always had a thing for brunettes.”
At her wits end, Grace could do nothing but stare at this woman who’d basically forced her way into Matt’s house. Her cellphone was upstairs and she had no idea where the landline was. Front room?
“It’s all right, darlin,” Delilah said with a wink. “I’m leaving.”
She took one last look around and then headed toward the front door, with Grace trailing behind her. She opened it and paused. “Tell Matt I was here and it’s real important he come see me. I’m staying in town at the hotel. Tell him I’m not leaving until he does.”
The woman slammed the door shut and Grace hurriedly locked it. She leaned back, clutching her note and the wet towel she’d used on the floor to her chest.
What the hell had just happened?
“Shit,” she said out loud. Because of the no-talking thing, she had no idea who this Delilah was, or what her relationship was to Matt. She stood there for a few more moments pondering that before heading back to the great room to help Rosie outside.
She knew what she had to do. It was time for her to put an end to the no talking-thing. If Grace and Matt were going to last, if they were ever going to be a thing, then it was time for her to dig deeper into the life of Matt Hawkins.
No more skirting the issue. They needed to talk. Really talk.
And dammit, she needed to know who the hell Delilah was.
20
“You are an absolute gem, Mathew.” Dory grinned and thanked him again for driving to town to pick her up at the train station. Hell, he would have driven to the airport if she’d called him earlier, but as it was when she did contact him she’d already been on her way back to New Waterford.
It had been seven in the morning when her SOS came through, and it had taken everything in him to get out of bed and not stay snuggled up to a very sleepy, very warm, and extremely cuddly Grace Simon.
But Matt couldn’t ignore Dory, her damn kids weren’t answering their phones. So he’d kissed his slumbering woman and crawled out of bed. Within half an hour, he was at Dory’s. He opened up her place—made sure the heat and water was turned on, and then plowed out her driveway which was full of snow again. Then he’d driven to town to fetch her from the station and was just now carrying her suitcases into her house.
“So what’d she do?” he asked, setting down one very large zebra print bag. “Your sister.”
Dory made a face and swept by him, her legs surprisingly nimble for such a small, old woman. “She’s carrying on with the neighbor, that’s what she’s doing.”
Matt tried not to smile. “Is that so?”
