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Reese could keep a secret; you just needed to tell her upfront that whatever she’d heard couldn’t be shared, otherwise she’d tell anyone anything.
Reese paused between bites and nodded. “I wish you wrote kids’ books instead.”
While Mom had failed to instill a love of reading in her daughters, she’d succeeded with her granddaughter. Reese had learned to read before starting kindergarten and now devoured books written for children older than her. Thank goodness for a well-stocked town library, otherwise they’d be at the bookstore every other day buying more books.
“Have you started getting estimates for the work on the house?” Taylor asked. The man was obviously uncomfortable talking about his book. The house seemed like a safer, less intrusive topic. “If you haven’t already, you should give Baker and Sons Construction a call. They’re located here in town.”
She’d gone to school with Ryan Baker, the older of the two sons. Although Mr. Baker was still involved, Ryan had taken over the business after his dad suffered a heart attack. Unlike his younger brother, who’d moved to California, Ryan was one of the hardest-working people she knew, and thorough. He expected the same from the people who worked for him. When you hired Baker and Sons for a job, it got done right.
“Thanks for the recommendation. I’m hoping to do most of the work myself. It’s kind of a hobby of mine. But if I run into any problems, I’ll give them a call.”
“You’ll want to check out 38 Lumber and Hardware. It’s over near the grocery store. Dad refused to go anywhere else. And he was always working on something around here.”
Across the table, Mom gave a little laugh. “My late husband was always taking something apart and putting it back together. Often, Taylor would be working right alongside him. Taylor and her dad built the bookcase in the living room together when she was seven. And she helped him remodel the upstairs bathroom when she was in middle school.”
Curt glanced at Taylor again. The woman intrigued him. She was nothing like the women he came in contact with on a daily basis, and definitely nothing like the women he was usually attracted to. Strength and confidence radiated from her. No doubt about it, Taylor Walker was a woman who could take care of herself no matter the situation. Although she worked in a male-dominated field, the butterfly earrings she wore, and the light pink nail polish on her fingernails suggested she had a softer feminine side. She’d tied up her chestnut-colored hair, so he had no way of telling its length, but he guessed when down her hair would fall below her shoulders. And at about five seven or eight, she had a killer body, which he’d noticed the moment he walked into the kitchen.
“If I get stuck on something, maybe I’ll enlist Taylor’s help,” he said. Honestly, he could see himself asking Taylor for help on a lot of things, and none of them had anything to do with remodeling his house.
“I don’t know, Mr. Author, you might not be able to afford me.” Her voice carried a hint of laughter. It was the most relaxed she’d sounded all night.
A heavy dose of guilt smacked him in the gut. They’d accepted without question that he was nothing more than C.S. Hilton, the author of Fatal Deception. And it wasn’t as if he had completely lied to them, but telling him he was also Curt Sherbrooke, the nephew of the president of the United States and a member of the wealthiest family in the country, wasn’t an option. As it was, he wasn’t certain they could keep what he had shared a secret. He hadn’t seen any other choice when he’d told them he was an author. The fewer lies he told, the less likely he was to slip and make a mistake if they spoke in the future. Something told him he’d be seeing Taylor, Priscilla, and Reese Walker again.
“I guess I’d better find the number for Baker and Sons.”
“Can I skate on your pond this winter?” Reese asked. She’d finished her food but stayed at the table, listening to the conversation.
“Mr. and Mrs. Cranston used to let the neighborhood kids ice skate on the pond behind your house. Even after they moved, they let us bring Reese back there to skate,” Taylor said, explaining her niece’s request.
At least as long as he lived there, he saw no problem with it. Once he finished the house and moved on in a year or so, they could take it up with the new owners. “Sure… as long as you have an adult with you.”
“I think you’re going to love living here,” Priscilla said. “It’s a great place to raise a family. Both my daughters grew up here.”
“Do you have any kids?” Reese asked, sounding hopeful. “All the kids on the street are babies. My best friend, Hazel, lives near school when she’s with her mom. When she stays with her dad, she lives somewhere else. I don’t know where. I’d like someone next door to play with.”
“Sorry, no kids. I don’t even have a pet.”
“Do you h
ave a girlfriend? Hazel’s dad has a new girlfriend. She really likes her. She lets Hazel play with her makeup when she stays over. Hazel said her mom doesn’t have a boyfriend, but she talks on the phone a lot to someone.”
Did all children Reese’s age ask questions like that? The only children he spent any time around still wore diapers. “Uh, no girlfriend either. I’m all alone next door.”
Reese smiled, revealing the missing bottom tooth. “Maybe Auntie Taylor can be your girlfriend. I always hear Mimi telling her she should go out more.”
He heard Taylor softly groan, and suddenly her face matched her fingernails. Curt wasn’t sure if he should groan too, or laugh. Both reactions fit the current conversation. And as embarrassing as the conversation had suddenly turned, Reese’s comments answered a question he’d had but couldn’t ask himself. Taylor Walker was single.
“Reese, if you’re done eating, why don’t you go upstairs, get ready for bed, and then do some reading,” Taylor said.
Curt guessed she was afraid her niece would either share some other embarrassing information or ask a question better not asked.
Reese ducked under the table. When she reappeared, she had Stripes in her arms. He hadn’t even realized the cat was under the table. “Yes, I don’t have to help clean the table tonight!” She hightailed it out of the kitchen without another word to anyone.
“Sorry about that,” Taylor said once Reese was gone. “She’ll be seven in June, and often doesn’t think before she asks questions.”
Curt shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. She can ask me anything. Not much embarrasses me.”
“Anyone interested in some dessert?” Priscilla asked, perhaps as a way to change the subject. “Reese and I made some oatmeal cookies after school today.”
