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Hannah, however, didn’t seem too impressed.
“I just moved in.”
“How just?”
“Recently,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry if the place isn’t to your liking.”
“It isn’t that. It’s just unexpected. You have this huge place—so much house for a man and his daughter. Then you come in here and it’s virtually empty.”
She walked around the perimeter of the room, pausing by the enormous fireplace that had been one of the selling points of the house. There were a few of them, but this one and the one in the master bedroom were the largest. Perfect for cozying up on a winter’s night.
Alone. As I did much else. But I liked my solitary existence. At least I had, not all that long ago.
“I’ve been working.” The excuse seemed flimsy even to me. “I suppose I should hire someone. Maybe a whole team, get it done faster.”
Hannah turned with Lily in her arms, who was looking up at her adoringly, and my heart clenched like a fist. Like my fists, currently tucked in my pockets. “You can’t do that. A house should reflect you. Your choices, your sweat and hard work. You can’t pay for someone else to pretend to be you.”
“You can pay others for just about anything.”
“Said like a rich, entitled man.” Her tone was light, but the jab still struck its intended mark.
She was already on the move, crossing through the dining room, lifting her brows at the long table with enough place settings for a crowd. It had belonged to my grandparents and my grandmother harbored no illusions about holding formal dinners “at that old thing” anymore. It was a priceless antique and a family relic to boot, so I’d kept it in storage until I found my house. There was also the huge ornate china cabinet that went with it, standing mostly empty except for a single set of fancy dishes that my grandmother had passed down to me.
“At least you have things to eat on.”
I didn’t tell her I never ate on that china, because I was sure she would’ve deducted points. When it was just me, I ate on paper plates. Why make a mess for just one? I ate out a lot too, usually rushing between meetings or on my way home. Or I ate at my grandmother’s, when the silence and shadows gre
w too deep.
In the old days, I’d caught a lot of my meals with Billy. We’d spent a lot of time together, both before and after he’d had Lily. I hadn’t really had time for other friends with work, so I hadn’t made them.
Now I didn’t know what I’d do with a friend. I wasn’t sure I even remembered how to be one.
I followed Hannah and Lily into the spacious, bright kitchen, watching silently as she opened the double oven before doing the same to almost all of the cupboards, above and below. The scarcity of food got a raised eyebrow, as it did when she opened the refrigerator and found it nearly empty minus sandwich makings, formula, and a few premixed snacks for Lily. She was still more interested in her bottle than actual food, but we kept trying.
“I didn’t figure you for the usual bachelor with just a head of lettuce and beer in his refrigerator, but you’re scarily close.” She shut the refrigerator and turned to me, setting the baby on her hip. “You can’t live like this with a child.”
“Lily has everything she needs.” There was no helping the defensive tone in my voice. “You haven’t seen her nursery yet.”
“I don’t mean just what she needs. You hardly have the makings for a balanced diet in there. Where do you eat, if not here?”
“Out.”
She sighed. “I’m assuming your grandmother makes sure you’re fed now and then at least.”
“I’m a grown man. I don’t need anyone taking care of me.”
“Oh, really? And where’s your proof of that?” She gestured behind her and Lily reached out for Hannah’s arm, nearly toppling from her perch on Hannah’s hip. Lily’s little face reddened, a sure sign tears would follow, but Hannah just scooped her up securely again and continued on her house tour.
She clucked under her breath at the nearly empty basement-slash-family room, sniffed at the generic brand of detergent in the laundry area, and let out a long sigh at the pile of mail and magazines stacked in the foyer. But when she entered the den, she let out a soft sound of pure pleasure at the shelves of books. They extended all the way up the walls, high enough that there was a rolling stair ladder like in the bookstores to accommodate the uppermost rows. Plush cushioned seats stretched under the windows that framed the room, showing a view of the driveway and the big side yard.
Snow clung to the glass in fat flakes, the promised storm arriving on gusts of wind that rattled through the trees. Hannah didn’t seem to notice. She was scanning titles, one arm securely around Lily while she talked softly to her, sharing her finds.
“Oh, Stephen King. He’s scary. Too much for you. Same for Dean Koontz. Kylie Brant. Serial killer? Yeah, no. Where’s the shelf for smart little girls?”
Feeling more than a little foolish, I pointed at the bottom shelf. “Those there.”
Hannah marched over to me and held out Lily, who looked as panicked as I did.
