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“You’re kidding!” Kate’s head snapped up.
“Dead serious. You could sell your place or rent it out,” Tiffany said, before draining her glass.
Katie didn’t know what to say. She gazed at the kitchen filled with all of Tiffany’s things—her baskets and shiny pots and hanging bundles of dried herbs. “I…I don’t know. I’d have to think about it. Talk it over with Josh.”
“Do. You’ve seen the place, of course, but let me give you the grand tour, show you what you’d be in for. Let’s start at the top.” They climbed two flights of stairs to a studio apartment set under the eaves. J.D. sat at a small table with his laptop computer glowing in front of him.
“Missed me?” he asked, as Tiffany approached him.
“Terribly,” she replied dryly. “I just couldn’t stand it.”
His smile stretched wide, and he leaned back in his chair to stare at his fiancée. The silent message he sent her fairly sizzled, and Tiffany’s cheeks burned red. “Well…uh, this is the smallest unit.” She pointed out the tiny kitchen and bath, then, with a sidelong look at her husband-to-be, led Katie down to the second floor. “He’s incorrigible,” she muttered.
“Along with a whole list of other things,” Katie teased. When Tiffany eyed her skeptically, she added, “All good. All very good.”
They toured the second story with its three bedrooms and bath. The rooms were compact, with high ceilings and tall windows. The master bedroom, Katie noticed, had a view of the carriage house where Luke Gates had taken up residence. She thought of the rangy Texan—a sexy, rawboned cowboy with a slow-growing smile and a quiet manner. But beneath his easygoing exterior she sensed there was a deeper person, a man who had more than his share of secrets. Or maybe her reporter instincts were working overtime. Everyone accused her of searching out mysteries, stories and scoops where there were none. Nonetheless, she stared through the glass at the carriage house and said, “Tell me about Luke Gates.”
“Not much to tell,” Tiffany admitted. “But he’s the perfect tenant. Quiet. Clean. Keeps to himself. Pays on time.”
“He’s from Texas, right?” Katie asked, spying the bridesmaid’s dress for Bliss’s wedding hanging from a hook on the back of Tiffany’s closet door. Draped in plastic, it was a blue gown identical to the one Katie was to wear.
“Somewhere around El Paso, I think, although it seems to me he mentioned something about spending some time working at a ranch near Dallas. But I really can’t remember. As I said, he doesn’t say much.” She slid an interested glance in Katie’s direction. “Why?”
“Just curious.” The truth of the matter was that Luke was the most interesting man to show up in Bittersweet in years. Not that it mattered.
Tiffany raised one dark brow. “Good-looking, isn’t he?”
Katie lifted a shoulder. “O
nly if you like the cocksure, I-don’t-give-a-damn cowboy type.”
Tiffany laughed. “Don’t we all?” she said in a whisper, as if she expected J.D. to hear her.
Katie didn’t answer, only grinned as they left Tiffany’s room, walked down the short, carpeted hallway and stopped at a six-paneled door with a large Keep Out sign swinging from the knob.
“Yeah, right.” With a wink at Katie, Tiffany gave the door a sharp rap with her knuckles, then twisted the knob and walked into what could only be described as a “healthy mess”—just the kind Katie’s own boy loved. Cards, marbles, shoes and clothing were strewn over the floor, a bookcase was crammed with video games, books, baseball cards, tennis racquets and empty soda cans. Posters of rock stars and baseball greats decorated the walls, and the bed was a disaster, the edges of the mattress visible beneath rumpled sheets and a cover that was draped half on the floor. In the middle of it all, Josh and Stephen were thumbing through a sports magazine while Christina rummaged through the closet. In Katie’s estimation this was a ten-year-old boy’s idea of heaven. “We have a deal,” Tiffany explained. “Every Saturday morning—which is coming up in a few days, Stephen—he cleans this up, changes his sheets and puts everything away to my satisfaction. Then he can go out with his friends, and I don’t bug him until the next Saturday.”
“Awesome,” Josh said, showing off his preteen vocabulary as if he knew the meaning of straightening up.
“If you guys need any snacks, I bought some chips and cookies this morning.”
“Cool,” Josh said, and the boys, with Christina hurrying after them, scrambled out of the room.
“I quit fighting this mess because I had bigger problems with Stephen,” Tiffany admitted, and Katie remembered the boy’s run-in with the police. Stephen had been questioned about Isaac Wells’s disappearance because he’d been hired by the reclusive farmer to do odd jobs and had, at one time, stolen the keys to Isaac’s classic car collection.
“How’s Stephen doing?”
“Better.” Tiffany sighed. “I hate to admit it, but J.D. has been a big help. Everyone told me that a boy needs a positive role model, a man to look up to, but I didn’t want to believe it. After Philip died I wasn’t going to ever get married again.” She picked up a couple of empty cans and brought them with her. “Then J.D. came along—well, actually kind of pushed his way into my life. I had to let him because he was Philip’s brother and the kids were his niece and nephew, but I never expected… Oh, listen to me. I’m rambling. Come on, let me show you Christina’s room.”
They walked through a half-open door to a charming room filled with a canopied bed, stuffed animals and a box of toys. A lacy dust ruffle matched the curtains that framed a view of the side yard. Katie’s heartstrings tugged a bit. She’d always wanted a little girl, a sister for Josh, but of course it wasn’t going to happen. Having a daughter was part of a pipe dream—one she’d given up long ago. Now, she had to concentrate on her son and her career. Period.
In the next twenty minutes, Tiffany showed her through the living quarters on the first floor of the house, then pointed out two apartments in the basement, and an upper and lower unit in the old carriage house.
The boys were shooting baskets near the garage and Christina was chasing Charcoal across the lawn by the time the tour was over.
“So, what do you think?” Tiffany asked as Katie slung the strap of her purse over her shoulder.
“It’s definitely a possibility.” The truth of the matter was that she wanted to say yes right then and there. “I’ll think about it,” Katie promised, but she’d already half made up her mind. She could rent out her house and save money, spend more time with Josh and concentrate on her career without constantly worrying about making the mortgage payment. She might even be able to trade in her car for a slightly newer model.
