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Jessie laughed at that, her soft features lighting up. “And I’m taking it that’s a first for you?”
He grinned. “Not so much a first, but it’s been a while.”
Jessie’s smile slowly faded, and with a sigh, she shrugged. “Morgan’s only been back in town a few months. I heard she was helping her father with the business, and all because Lord knows her sister, Sara, has no interest.” She paused and frowned slightly. “She’s had a rough few years, but her story is for her to tell, not me. If you want to know the details of Morgan Campbell’s life, you’ll have to ask her. But if you want to know how to get hold of her so that you can chat about this project you want done, you’d have to swing by the family home. Her father closed the office about a year ago, and he’s been running Campbell Home Services from there ever since.”
“Okay,” Cooper replied. “Got an address?”
The Morgan family home was located on the west side of town, halfway down a quiet street lined with mature oak trees whose skeletal branches rose into the sky as if seeking warmth. Soon enough, they’d be full and green. Cooper glanced at the piece of paper on his dash and confirmed the number of the house as he pulled into the driveway. There was an F-150 in the driveway as well as the small compact car he’d seen out at his place the week before.
The sun felt good on his face as Cooper climbed onto the porch, and he drank in its warmth while waiting for an answer to his knock. He waited a few moments more, but no one answered. With a small frown on his face, he knocked again, this time a little harder, and was just about to leave when the curtains in the window to his left moved. He spied Morgan and gave a small wave, flashing the smile that usually did the trick. Sure, this woman seemed immune to anything he had to offer, but Cooper figured it couldn’t hurt.
A few seconds passed, and he stood back as the door slowly opened. Once again, she was dressed in loose-fitting clothes that pretty much covered her —sweats that looked as if they’d seen better days. The gray hoodie with USC emblazoned across the chest had frayed ends, and the orange logo was no longer as vibrant as it should be.
Cooper knew this because he’d attended USC for all of one year before he’d switched to Berkeley.
“You were a Trojan?” he asked, noting the surprise that flickered briefly in her eyes.
“I…” She stammered a bit, her right hand fisting as she cleared her throat. “What do you want?”
She sure as hell was a prickly thing, but Cooper had never been the guy to give up. “I was hoping we could have a conversation about the attic.”
“I thought you didn’t want anyone mucking about your business.” Her nostrils flared slightly, and patches of color appeared on her face.
“I changed my mind.”
“I’ve already given Charlie a refund, so…” He was dismissed. It was in her tone, the coolness in her eyes, and the tilt of her chin. She didn’t like him, and if he’d been thinking right, Cooper might have asked himself why it mattered so much that she did. But he wasn’t thinking. He was just wanting to get his attic sorted out.
It took a bit, but Cooper managed to keep his smile in place. “Are you telling me you won’t reconsider?”
“Who’s there?” The voice came from somewhere behind Morgan, but with the door only open a few inches, Cooper couldn’t see who was there.
“Mr. Campbell?” He took a step to the side and peered over Morgan’s shoulder.
“That’s me.” The answer wasn’t exactly welcoming, but it wasn’t as cold as the look on his daughter’s face either.
The door was yanked open—roughly so—and Morgan winced, glancing away for a moment before swinging her gaze back to Cooper. An older man stood beside her with salt-and-pepper hair poking from beneath a worn-out New York Rangers cap. His eyes were faded, but Cooper saw where Morgan got her unusual coloring. Several days’ worth of whiskers shadowed his chin, and he was dressed in a stained T-shirt and jeans that needed washing. The Campbells didn’t exactly sport the business look, and considering his rocky start with Morgan, Cooper was beginning to think that maybe he should pass on his idea and do the damn work himself.
“This is Mr. Simon,” Morgan said slowly, glancing at her father once more.
The old man’s face lit up. “Simon, is it? You’re not a townie.”
“No, sir, I’m not.”
“Huh. You related to the young man married to Charlie Samuels?”
Cooper nodded. “Rick’s my brother.”
“I like your brother. He’s a Rangers fan.”
“Something we have in common.”
The older man scratched his chin. “You bought the old McLaren place.” It wasn’t a question, and Cooper nodded without answering. “Didn’t Morgan do some work for you last week?”
“She did.” Morgan’s face
was averted and Cooper couldn’t read her.
The old guy’s eyes narrowed. “She screw it up?”
