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Not that a homicide detective could afford the prices the Bay Street houses brought these days. If this house hadn’t been left to them, he and Ryan never could have bought it, though Ryan’s net worth was increasing quickly as the reputation of his construction business blossomed.
Ryan paused to wipe a red bandanna across his forehead. He took a swig from his thermos. “Yeah, I know Mary’s porch is about to fall off, but she’s asked me to renovate the place. Things will look a lot different by this time next year.”
Lucas turned to stare at his brother, and it was like seeing a version of himself—same hazel eyes and dark hair. Ryan wasslightly shorter and more tanned from his construction work. “Sounds like too big of a job with the new apartments you’re working on.”
“I can handle it.”
Lucas didn’t like the smile on Ryan’s face. “I don’t know, Ryan. We both like Mary, but don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
Ryan’s mouth twisted, and he shrugged. “You just don’t want me around Carly.”
“She broke your heart once. Don’t mistake pity for something deeper.”
“It’s been six years since we broke up, and I’ve moved on.”
“Oh really? Carly’s been living with her grandmother for seven months, and in that time, you haven’t repeated a date with anyone that I know of. You sure you aren’t just waiting for her to get over Eric’s death?”
Ryan tossed down the last bundle of old shingles. “I just haven’t found the right one. And aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black? When was the last time you went on a date?”
The faint wail of a small infant filtered through the rustle of live oak leaves and the whisper of Spanish moss. Babies made Lucas uncomfortable, and he tried to tune out the sound. How did someone even figure out what made a tiny human like that cry? Give him a file full of evidence any day over figuring out emotions.
When he was twenty-five, his fiancée had told him she couldn’t bear the constant worry his job had brought to her life. He realized then that law enforcement and a romantic relationship made for uneasy friends. Now that he wasthirty-two and the department’s top homicide detective, he was convinced it was better to stay single. He was called out in the night way too often to deal with a wife and family.
A soulful look in his dog’s eyes was enough to send Lucas on a guilt trip, and he didn’t need a crying kid to add to his stress. “Ryan, she chose her sisters over you. She’s got a kid now too. Everyone and everything will take precedence over you.”
They both knew how devastating that felt growing up. Dad had pushed them all aside to tend to Mom’s constant ups and downs. Lucas wanted more for his brother.
Ryan hooked his hammer into the loop on his tool belt. “You’ve never given her a chance. She was the only mother her sisters had. Of course she was going to take care of them.”
“And she probably still does.” Lucas eyed his brother. “Have you talked to her since she moved in?”
Ryan’s gaze didn’t meet Lucas’s. “Well, no. She’s been busy and so have I. That should tell you I’m not interested.”
Lucas swung a boot over the edge of the ladder and began to climb down. “Then why do I have the feeling you’d like something to develop?”
“Because you’re paranoid and can’t stand her. You need to get over it.”
Lucas pressed his lips together and stepped off the ladder. He hefted the discarded shingles onto his shoulder and stepped around his red golden retriever, Major, to move toward the garage door. Maybe a shower would wash off the uneasy feeling that had coated his skin at all the talk about Carly.
It wouldn’t do any good to argue about it with Ryan. He’d never seen through Carly. Lucas had always considered her a spoiled brat. Mary had lived next door his entire life, and hergranddaughters had lived with her after their mother died. Mary never made them grow up. It was understandable she’d had sympathy for the loss of their mother, but at some point, she needed to make them stand on their own two feet and become adults.
And Lucas had heard enough from Eric over the years to know that his brother had dodged a bullet. Carly ruled the roost at home and hadn’t been the supportive wife Eric had hoped for. But his brother had always been blind when it came to Carly Tucker. Like Ryan said, he was a grown man. His life was his own to ruin if he wanted to.
Two
Carly thought she should have about two hours before Noah woke from his nap. Taking the baby monitor and Pepper with her, she hurried up the creaky stairs to the third-floor attic, where most of her great-grandmother’s possessions had been stored after Eric’s death. While Carly told herself the items wouldn’t prep themselves for sale, the real reason for her decision to go through them today was to try to wrap her head around her grandmother’s offer.
A text from her sister Emily had contributed to the final push. According to Emily, her sisters had been patient long enough. It was time to get this job done so Carly could distribute the income from the antiques. And if Gram was serious about her plan to turn the place into a B and B, the attic needed to be cleared out anyway.
Dust motes danced in the rays of sunshine streaming through the windows, and Pepper batted at them before he went hunting for spiders and mice. Carly sneezed and flipped on brighter lighting. Boxes along with antique furniture of every variety, from sofas to tables and bookcases, filled nearly all the floor space. The movers had brought it all here after Eric’s death, and it was a mountain of old belongings. If thejob didn’t need to be done now, she would have retreated. Two hours wouldn’t begin to touch organizing this.
An area to her right held enough space to squeeze between the items, so she started there and immediately saw a genuine Tiffany lamp. Her great-grandmother had liked nice things. The French Provincial cabinet would bring a pretty penny too. Carly moved things as she examined them and marked them in a notebook.
By the time she reached an old chest at the end of the row, she realized most of these things needed to go to auction. She’d never get their full value at a flea market. Much as Carly hated to admit it, Emily had been right. As an interior designer, Emily must have paid attention the few times she’d gone to visit Gramma Helen.
Noah could awaken any minute, but the old chest of memorabilia Gramma Helen had left to Carly caught her eye. One quick peek wouldn’t derail her too much. She knelt and opened the lid of the chest. A folded note with her name on it lay nestled atop yellowing christening clothing. Was thatEric’shandwriting? When had he looked inside this old chest—and why?
Her hands shook as she picked up the paper and opened it.
