the lead down the hall, she wondered if he was this way with all women and if he was, why someone hadn’t snapped him up for herself by now so they could be treated like royalty all the time.
“Each one of these is a private suite,” Matt said as he opened the third door for her. “We—that is, my grandfather and all my siblings—use the kitchen, dining room, living room and rec room—they’re communal. But we each have a suite with a bedroom and a private bath, along with a sitting room so we can hole up in our own space if we’ve a mind to. There are even doors from the suites out to the porch if anybody wants to come and go that way, too.”
Jenn entered the sitting room portion of her newly appointed rooms. A pale blue overstuffed couch and chair and an oval coffee table monopolized the space, positioned to face a stone fireplace on the outside wall where French doors did indeed lead to that wraparound porch.
It was a cozy room, especially with the window on the other side of the fireplace framing a view of a huge oak tree whose branches were all snow-kissed.
“The bedroom’s in here,” Matt said, taking her suitcase through another door that connected a large room furnished with a queen-size bed covered in a downy blue checked quilt. There was also a desk and dressing table, a large bureau with a mirror above it, and another full-length mirror on the opposite door that apparently led to that bathroom he’d mentioned.
“Make yourself at home,” Matt said after he’d set her suitcase and purse on the bed. “Will you be okay on your own for a while?”
“I’ll be fine.” She marveled at the stroke of luck it had been that someone like Matt McDermot had found her on the side of the road. She really wasn’t clearheaded enough to have fended for herself and another person might have taken advantage rather than looked after her so conscientiously and generously.
But before she could tell him how much she appreciated all he was doing for her, he said, “You can get to the kitchen by going the rest of the way down that hallway we just used. You’ll pass the rec room and then you can’t miss the kitchen. I’ll be there when you’re ready.”
He left and Jenn felt a little like Alice after she’d gone through the looking glass.
Trying to get past how dazed she still felt, she took off her coat and stared down at her clothes, realizing for the first time that there were blood spatters on her white blouse and gray slacks—blood spatters that matched those on her coat—from where her head had been cut open in the accident.
She certainly didn’t want to stay in stained clothing so she slipped off her black loafers and intended to shed the rest of her soiled garments when she suddenly wondered what she looked like. Because now that she thought about it, she didn’t have a clear image in her mind of even that.
So she crossed to the full-length mirror on the bathroom door for a look.
She wasn’t tall—that was the first thing that registered. Probably about five-four if she stood straight. She was just about average weight. Except that her feet were somewhat on the large side and her breasts weren’t.
Her skin was clear and not so pale that it had a bluish tinge the way the skin of some redheads did. But still she was pretty fair. Her complexion was clear though, which pleased her. And her features were devoid of any enormous flaws. Well, maybe the cheekbones were on the high side, but that was good.
Her eyes were a nice shade of dark blue. With lashes that were long enough to be notable.
Probably the thing she liked best in her assessment of herself was her hair. It fell a few inches past her shoulders in a thick, wavy mass of burnished red that had a richness to it rather than an orange tint.
Of course at that moment it was kind of a mess, between the accident, the blood from the cut that had matted it just inside her hairline and then the haphazard washing it had taken at the doctor’s office.
She would have liked to shampoo her whole head before she went out to see Matt again but that couldn’t be done in half an hour so she decided it would just have to be brushed well and pulled back.
With that—and getting a change of clothes—in mind, she went to open her suitcase where Matt had left it on the bed.
While she was rummaging around in it for a hairbrush, she kept an eye out for any clue as to who she was, what kind of life she’d left behind, or why she’d come to this small town.
But she didn’t see anything remarkable or unusual inside the suitcase. It held only ordinary clothes, mostly jeans, sweaters and turtleneck shirts, with the exception of a simple jumper and a pair of velvet overalls.
There was also a pair of casual black suede slip-on shoes and a pair of low-heeled pumps. A few lacy bras and matching panties. Some socks, and that was about all.
But after suffering a little disappointment that there hadn’t been anything very telling in the suitcase she realized that there were some things the items didn’t say that were an indication of what wasn’t going on with her. For instance the only nightgown and robe she had were plaid flannel and there wasn’t a single slinky, sexy dress in the lot. So clearly she hadn’t come to Elk Creek for a romantic rendezvous.
She finally found a clear plastic makeup bag in one of the suitcase’s side pockets and even before she took it out she could see a comb and brush in it, along with some makeup and toiletries. But when she pulled the bag free of its cloth cubby she found something else behind it. Something that seemed odd.
A beat-up shaving kit.
The brown leather was soiled and ashy, and one side showed signs of having been crushed and then pulled back into a semblance of its original shape.
Jenn pulled it out, reassessing the other articles of the suitcase to be certain that nothing else in it belonged to a man.
It didn’t.
So why did she have this ratty old Dopp kit?
She set it on top of the other things in the suitcase so she could open it. It wasn’t easy. The zipper was rusty and stubborn. But she finally managed to force its teeth apart.
And when she did, what she found inside was not shaving gear.
The kit was full of money.
Lots of it.
Jenn turned the shaving kit upside down and shook it, causing a fluttering green rain of bills to fall onto the quilt.
There wasn’t anything else in the kit. Just cash.
She did a quick count—$2,157—none of it in anything larger than a twenty.
Traveling money? Her savings? Or maybe moving money? Maybe she’d been on her way to Elk Creek to live.
But would she have traveled with so much cash? And if she’d been moving to Elk Creek, why did she only have one small suitcase rather than a whole carload of belongings?
Maybe she’d come to Elk Creek to buy something. But why in cash? If she were making a large purchase wouldn’t she use a check or a credit card?
Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe the seller wanted cash.
But the one thing that made none of those possibilities click in her
