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tside go after her husband died. She kept up the inside pretty well.” We walk into the kitchen. “I think I’m going to paint the kitchen and the master bedroom and bath first, and then live here while the rest of the work is done.”
He spins to face me really quickly. “Wait.” He points to the floor under his feet. “You plan to live here?”
“Well, why else would I buy it?”
He shrugs. “I figured you were going to flip it or something.” He looks around like he’s appraising it with new eyes. As we stand there, a cat walks down the hallway and bumps her head on Grady’s leg. He leans down to pet her and her little motor starts running. I can hear it all the way across the room. “Whose cat?”
“Mrs. Caswell’s,” I say. “It was one of the conditions of buying the house. I had to keep the cats.”
“That’s sad.” He holds up a finger. “Wait, where have they been while the house has been empty?”
“Apparently, the daughter has been paying one of the teenagers that lives nearby to come over here and feed them regularly.” I lift an eyebrow. “Which totally explains the condoms in the bathroom trash and the empty beer bottles in the kitchen.”
“Ew,” Grady says.
“But the cats are actually pretty nice. They’re used to being here, and they’re so lonely. The daughter said it was either I take them or they would go to the pound, since her husband is allergic to cats.”
I walk over and open the kitchen cabinet, and I retrieve a bag of cat food I’d left there. I fill the little food dishes that are in the corner. The cat begins to eat as I refill the water bowl. Another cat comes streaking down the hallway, and that one starts to eat too.
“How many are there?” he asks.
“Just two. And they’re already spayed and neutered.”
His brow furrows. “Do you think they’ll like my dog?”
“What?” I ask, confused by the question.
“My poodle. I get her next week. Do you think the cats will tolerate her?” He’s serious about this.
“I…have no idea.”
He picks up one of the cats so he can look into her face. “You have to like the poodle, kitty cat, because you’ll see her from time to time.” Suddenly, his gaze falls on me. “If it’s okay. I mean, if you want to see her. And me. From time to time.”
I laugh. “Shut up, Grady.”
He laughs too. “You shut up, Clifford.”
I stick my tongue out at him but doing that makes my lip hurt. He brushes my hair back so he can look at my mouth.
“It’s a little swollen but not as big as I thought it would be.”
I shove him. “That’s what all the girls tell you, right?”
“I hate you, Clifford,” he mutters as he walks back out onto the porch.
I follow him out, and we spend about an hour talking about all the things he would do to the yard if this house was his.
“I’ll need an estimate,” I tell him.
“Whatever,” he mutters, and he starts to make some notes on his phone.
“I’m serious, Grady.”
“Shut up, Clifford.”
After that, I take him out for a quick meal, and we go back to Grandma’s house. “So you’re staying?” he finally asks, just before I go inside.
I nod. “I’m staying in Macon Hills. Grandma is getting older, and I don’t like being too far away from her. If something went wrong that I could have prevented, I’d never forgive myself.”
