your grandmother’s tenant.”
He rather enjoyed the surprised look on her face. Petty of him, but if she kept in better contact with her grandmother, she’d know about him. Still, he suspected that if he were as good a Christian as he hoped to be, he’d cut her a bit more slack.
“I see. Well, fine then.” She climbed into the truck, the skirt she wore giving him a glimpse of slim leg.
He wasn’t interested in any woman right now, least of all a woman like Andrea Hampton, but that didn’t mean he was dead. He could still appreciate beautiful, and that’s what Andrea was, with that pale oval face, soft mouth and strong jawline. Come to think of it, she’d gotten the stubborn chin from her grandmother, who was as feisty a seventy-some-year-old as he’d met in a long time.
She didn’t speak as he drove out of the hospital lot. He didn’t mind. God had been teaching him patience in the past year or so, something he’d never thought of before as a virtue. He suspected she’d find it necessary to break the silence sooner than he would.
Sure enough, they’d barely hit the highway when she stirred. “You said you were my grandmother’s tenant. Does that mean you’re living in the house?” Her hands moved restlessly. “Or inn, I guess I should say, given Grams and Rachel’s project.”
She didn’t approve, then. He could hear it in her voice.
“I rent the barn from your grandmother. The newer one, behind the house. I’ve been there for six months now, and in the area for nearly a year.”
Healing. Atoning for his mistakes and trying to get right with God, but that was something he didn’t say to anyone.
“The barn?” Her voice rose in question. “What do you want with the barn? Do you mean you live there?”
He shrugged. “I fixed up the tack room for a small apartment. Comfortable enough for one. I run my business in the rest of it.”
“What business?” She sounded suspicious.
He was tempted to make something up, but he guessed she’d had enough shocks tonight. “I design and make wood furniture, using Amish techniques. If you pick up any wood shavings on your clothes, that’s why.”
“I see.” The tone reserved judgment. “Grams never mentioned it to me.”
“Well, you haven’t been around much, have you?”
He caught the flash of anger in her face, even keeping his eyes on the road.
“I speak with my grandmother and my sister every week, and they came to stay with me at Easter, not that it’s any of your concern.”
They were coming into the village now, and he slowed. There wasn’t much traffic in Churchville, or even many lights on, at this hour. The antique shops and quilt stores that catered to tourists were long since closed.
He pulled into the drive of the gracious, Federal-style Unger mansion, its Pennsylvania sandstone glowing a soft gold in the light from the twin lampposts he’d erected for Katherine. He stopped at the door.
He wouldn’t be seeing much of Andrea, he’d guess. She’d scurry back to her busy career as soon as she was convinced her sister would recover, the anxiety she’d felt tonight fading under the frenzied rush of activity that passed for a life.
“Thank you.” She snapped off the words as she opened the door, grabbing her bags, obviously still annoyed at his presumption.
“No problem.”
She slammed the door, and he pulled away, leaving her standing under the hand-carved sign that now hung next to the entrance to the Unger mansion. The Three Sisters Inn.
TWO
Andrea had barely reached the recessed front door when it was flung open, light spilling out onto the flag-stones. In an instant she was in Grams’s arms, and the tears she didn’t want to shed flowed. They stood half in and half out of the house, and she was ten again, weeping over the mess her parents were making of their lives, holding on to Grams and thinking that here was one rock she could always cling to.
Grams drew her inside, blotting her tears with an unsteady hand, while her own trickled down her cheeks. “I’m so glad you’re here, Dree. So glad.”
The childhood nickname, given when two-years-younger Rachel couldn’t say her name, increased the sensation that she’d stepped into the past. She stood in the center hall that had seemed enormous to her once, with its high ceiling and wide plank floor. Barney, Grams’s sheltie, danced around them, welcoming her with little yips.
She bent to pet the dog, knowing Barney wouldn’t stop until she did. “I went to the hospital to see Rachel. They told me you’d already gone home. I should have called you….”
Grams shook her head, stopping her. “It’s fine. Cal phoned me while you were with Rachel.”
“He didn’t say.” Her tone was dry. Nice of him, but he might have mentioned he’d talked to Grams.
“He told me about the accident.” Grams’s arm, still strong and wiry despite her age, encircled Andrea’s waist. Piercing blue eyes, bone structure that kept her beautiful despite her wrinkles, a pair of dangling aqua earrings that matched the blouse she wore—Grams looked great for any age, let alone nearly seventy-five. “Two accidents in one night is two too many.”
That was a typical Grams comment, the tartness of her tone hiding the fear she must have felt.
“Well, fortunately the only damage was to the car.” She’d better change the subject, before Grams started to dwell on might-have-beens. She looked through the archway to the right, seeing paint cloths draped over everything in the front parlor. “I see you’re in the midst of redecorating.”
Grams’s blue eyes darkened with worry. “The opening is Memorial Day weekend, and now Rachel is laid up. I don’t know…” She stopped and shook her head. “Well, we’ll get through it somehow. Right now, let’s get you settled, so that both of us can catch a few hours sleep. Tomorrow will be here before you know it.”
“Where are you putting me?” She glanced up the graceful open staircase that led from the main hall to the second floor. “Is that all guest rooms now?”
Grams nodded. “The west side of the house is the inn. The east side is still ours.” She opened the door on the left of the hall. “Come along in. We have the back stairway and the rooms on this side, so that’ll give us our privacy. You’ll be surprised at how well this is working out.”
She doubted it, but she was too tired to pursue the subject now. Or to think straight, for that matter. And Grams must be exhausted, physically and emotionally. Still, she couldn’t help one question.
“What was she doing out there? Rachel, I mean. Why was she walking along Crossings Road alone after dark?”
“She was taking Barney for a run.” Grams’s voice choked a little. “She’s been doing that for me since she got here, especially now that things have been so upset. Usually there’s not much traffic.”
That made sense. Rachel could cut onto Crossings
