flagstone fireplace was on the far wall and flanked by floor-to-ceiling oak shelves that were partially filled with books. Cartons sat by the bookcases waiting to be unpacked. Patty placed a sleeping Sophia’s carrier on the sofa.
“Come see my toys, Tucker,” Sarah Ann said, heading toward the stairs.
“One hand on the banister,” Patty said, “and go very slowly. I’ll be up in a few minutes. I just want to check the refrigerator and make certain nothing is about to spoil.”
“’Kay,” the pair said in unison.
Patty walked down a wide hallway toward the rear of the house where she assumed the kitchen was.
This was David’s house, she mused, drinking in details as she went, that he was turning into a home for him and Sarah Ann. Just the two of them, because Sarah Ann’s mother was in heaven.
Was David still brokenhearted over the loss of his wife and didn’t even know his world had been shattered because he couldn’t remember anything? That was a rather depressing thought.
Patty entered the huge, sunny kitchen and made her way through a multitude of boxes to reach the refrigerator.
Well, she thought, looking around, the kitchen was obviously not high on the list of rooms to be set to rights. She would guess that David wasn’t eager to cook, maybe didn’t even know how to do much more than make a sandwich or heat up soup. He and Sarah Ann must have been eating out a great deal since moving to Ventura, or he was bringing in take-out food.
“I’m getting to be a very good detective if I do say so myself,” Patty said aloud.
She gripped the handle to the refrigerator, then stopped, looking around again.
Strange, she thought. It was as though she could feel, sense, David’s presence in this house that was becoming a home. She could picture him here so easily with Sarah Ann trailing behind him, chattering at her daddy.
It was a very large home for two people, yet it felt right for David. He would stride through these rooms on those long, muscular legs, his blatant masculinity demanding space to move freely. He would come to this refrigerator where she was now standing, intent on finding something inside to satisfy his desire to…
A man like David Montgomery would have strong, powerful desires in any arena into which he stepped, whether it be to quell the need for food or to reach for a woman, sweep her into his arms and…
A shiver coursed through Patty.
What on earth was the matter with her? she thought, feeling the warm flush on her cheeks. She’d gone off on some embarrassing sensual trip about David sweeping a woman… Okay, Patty, admit it. The image in her mind had been David sweeping her into his arms, which was ridiculous. She didn’t entertain mental scenarios like that, for heaven’s sake, about a man she didn’t even really know or…
“Enough of this nonsense,” she said, then yanked open the refrigerator door. “Mmm. Pickings are slim.”
There was a bowl of grapes, several oranges and apples, a jug of orange juice, a carton of milk and ready-made individual containers of pudding, Jell-O and yogurt. Three eggs, a half a loaf of bread, a jar of strawberry jelly, and that was it. The freezer above held a large box of Popsicles.
“This is all for Sarah Ann, I think,” Patty said aloud. “Nope, David is not into cooking.”
Going on the assumption that David was going to be in the hospital for several more days, Patty checked the sell dates on the offerings in the refrigerator. She found plastic bags beneath the sink and packed the milk, orange juice and the small containers of desserts. That done, she headed back in the direction of the stairs, placing the bags by the front door.
She made her way up the stairs and when she reached the top level of the house she could hear Tucker and Sarah Ann laughing farther down the hallway.
Don’t get nosy, she told herself, as she passed several rooms on her way to the children. Well, one or two little peeks wouldn’t do any harm. No. But then again she might spot something that would give a clue as to what David did for a living and… No.
Sarah Ann’s room was large and sunny, a little girl’s paradise. It had a pink-and-white canopy bed, white bookshelves full of toys and books and a white dresser. The carpet was lush and the same smoky blue-gray color that she’d seen in the living room and covering the stairs and hallways.
“Sarah Ann,” Patty said, “do you have a suitcase, honey?”
“In the closet,” she said.
“I’ll pack some clothes for you while you get Patches the bear.”
“’Kay.”
Patty completed her chore in short order, then turned to see Sarah Ann hugging a faded teddy bear.
“Is that Patches?” Patty said.
Sarah Ann nodded. “He’s my bestis toy. He gots a hole one time and my daddy fixed him really good. See?”
A strange warmth seemed to tiptoe around Patty’s heart and a soft smile formed on her lips as she saw the repair job David had managed to accomplish on the precious bear. There was a strip of dark blue duct tape across Patches’s tummy, and hearts had been drawn on the life-saving bandage.
“Oh, that’s a fine job of making Patches all better,” Patty said. “Your daddy is a very good doctor.”
“He only doctors toys and my boo-boos,” Sarah Ann said. “That’s all, ’cause he’s busy when he wears a tie and doing turny stuff.”
“I’m hungry, Mommy,” Tucker said.
“What?” Patty said. Turny stuff? “Oh, hungry. Well, we’re leaving now and we’ll have lunch the minute we get home. Pick up those toys you were playing with, kiddos, and we’ll be on our way.”
He wears a tie to do his turny stuff, Patty thought, narrowing her eyes. Turny stuff. Tie. Suit and tie because he’s…
“Sarah Ann,” Patty said, nearly shouting, “your father is an attorney.”
Sarah Ann planted her little fists on her hips. “I just told you that. My daddy is a turny when he puts on his tie.”
“Got it,” Patty said. “Let’s go, my sweets. I may be the next Columbo but I still have to cook the meals.”
Just before seven o’clock that evening Patty peered through the open doorway of David’s hospital room and saw that he was propped up in bed watching the television mounted high on the opposite wall.
Goodness, she thought, the man just didn’t quit. Even beat up and bandaged and wearing a faded hospital gown, there was an earthy male sensuality emanating from David Montgomery. He wasn’t quite so pale tonight, his tawny skin standing out in stark relief against the pristine white pillow.
There was no readable expression on David’s face as he watched what she realized was national news. Maybe he had been able to become engrossed in what he was hearing, forget for a few minutes that he was a man without a memory. And she was about to break his peaceful bubble and tell him his wife was dead. Being a detective was not
