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"The kitchen seemed like a good place to start." Pausing, he added, "I wasn't sure you'd be coming by. I didn't see you yesterday."
"I was tied up all day. I couldn't get away."
"Was that the only reason?" he challenged, a question in his gaze. "You weren't avoiding me because I kissed you? I know I was out of line, and I'm sorry."
She drew in a quick breath. "It was just a birthday kiss, and I'm not avoiding you. I'm here now."
"It won't happen again."
"I know," she said, because she couldn't let it happen again. It would only complicate her life.
"Have you talked to Joel?" Decker asked.
"He texted me yesterday. He's going to be in New York for a few more days. And, no, I didn't tell him you kissed me."
"You should do what you feel you need to do," Decker said.
"What I need to do is start working. Where do you want me to begin?"
"Why don't you keep going in here? I was just about to head upstairs. I don't want you in the master bedroom or the dining room area. The floor and ceiling are too fragile. I'll pull everything out of the master and into the hall. You can go through it there."
"Okay." She paused. "How are you feeling about being here, Decker? Have you looked through any more of Eleanor's personal things?"
"No. I thought I'd leave that to you. How long are you going to be here?"
"I don't have to pick up Leo until three today."
"Okay. If you want to fill up the back of my truck with garbage or anything you want to donate, feel free. I can make a run at the end of the day."
"That would be great. I hate to just throw things away."
"Me, too. I try to recycle and donate whenever I can. Someone will be happy to get this stuff." He paused. "My father loved a good flea market. I think he furnished our entire kitchen with things he bought for a dollar or two. He found a chipped plate far more interesting than something brand new. He used to say every piece had a story to tell."
"Your dishes talked?" she teased, feeling better now that the awkwardness between them was easing.
He grinned. "No. My dad came up with the stories, which were easy for him. He was a born storyteller."
"I'd love to read one of his books."
"You can probably find them online or at the library."
"I'll have to look."
"But not right now. You need to get to work," he said with a smile.
"Hey, I'm the boss."
"Then tell yourself to get to work. We have a lot to do."
"I'm on it." She waved him out of the kitchen. She'd be able to get a lot more done if he wasn't in the room.
For the next three hours, she cleaned out the kitchen, taking boxes of items to donate out to the truck and putting trash bags by the side of the house. When the kitchen counters were emptied, she went upstairs. The hallway was so packed with stuff that Decker had pulled out of the master bedroom she could barely walk through it.
Her initial head of steam quickly diminished. This would be another enormous job, and it would take more time to go through the file boxes and drawers that had come from Eleanor's dresser and desk. The kitchen had felt impersonal. It had been easy to divorce herself from the woman who had lived here for almost twenty years, but these items needed more review, more care, and she had little time left.
After debating her options, she started taking boxes and drawers down the stairs and out to the trunk of her car. She could go through things at home when she had more time.
As she was making her third trip to the car, Decker came out of the house. "Why are you loading up your car?" he asked. "I told you I'd take everything out for you."
