furnished made it even better. For the next nine months, he could leave all the big pieces in Chicago, which was a relief. Back home, every stick of furniture seemed saturated with memories of Lydia. That was her chair at the dinner table. That was where she sat while they watched TV. Even the pencil marks on the woodwork measuring Ellenâs growth had been made by Lydia.
Which was probably more proof that Max had been a hopelessly absentee father. But he couldnât change the past. All he could do was rededicate himself to his daughter from now on. No do-overs in this lifeâbut luckily you did occasionally get to start over.
And it would be easier to start over without Lydiaâs ghost everywhere they turned.
He had put away his clothes and books and set up his drafting table. Later, heâd have to go buy supplies, but for now the landlady had been thoughtful, providing everything from magazines on the coffee table to knives and forks in the pantry.
Maybe heâd wait for Ellen to come back from exploring, and then theyâd make a grocery run. He wasnât very good at cooking yet, but heâd mastered the red rice with tuna horror she seemed to love best. Sheâd probably had it twice a week in the months since Lydia died.
He walked out to the car one more time, clearing out the last of the loose itemsâEllenâs paper cup from the fast-food lunch theyâd grabbed as they neared Silverdell, her tangled earbuds and the cherry-flavored lip balm sheâd bought at a gas station. He dug out a paperback book about a vampire high school, which had gotten wedged between the seats. He was finally extricating himself from the SUV when he heard another car drive up beside his.
He straightened, smiling, wondering if it might be his landlady, who would also be his next-door neighbor. The agent had explained that the owner, someone named Penelope Wright, would live on the other side, though so far heâd seen no signs of her. For some reason, heâd assumed she was a retireeâmaybe the old-fashioned name did that. But perhaps she wasnât retired, and had merely been at work all day.
Reflections of aspen leaves dappled her carâs windshield, so he couldnât see anything except the hint of a bright blue coat or dress.
He waited, still smiling a welcome, ready to start off on the right foot. But, oddly, the person in the car didnât open the door. Maybe she was on the phone, tying up some final details before she hung up.
He turned back to the SUV, checking under the seats one last time, not wanting to look impatient. He had just collected a stray French fry when he heard the woman get out of her car and clear her throat.
âI...I...â She started over. âYou...â
Poor thing. She sounded as if she might struggle with a stammer.
âHi,â he began, turning with a smile. The rest of his greeting died on his lips. Standing in front of him was the woman from the ice-cream store.
It couldnât be. But...
It also couldnât be anyone else. Even without the same cute dress, silly boots, shining hair...he would never forget that face.
For a split second, the shock left him mildly uncomfortable. The encounter earlier had been so random, so strange. It had been over in less than a minute, and sheâd disappeared suddenly, without a word, as if embarrassed by her boldness.
So how had she found him again? She didnât know his nameâhe didnât know hers. He hadnât told the soda jerk anything about his plans. And yet, out of nowhere, this same woman pulled up in his driveway a few hours later?
How was it possible? Silverdell wasnât that small.
Was there any chance this sweet-faced young woman was...
Stalking him?
âWow. This is so awkward I honestly donât know what to say.â The woman shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, as if she hoped that when she opened them, he wouldnât be standing there.
But of course he was.
âOkay. So I guess you have to be Mr. Thorpe. Youâre here early. I mean, thatâs fine. Itâs just that...I wasnât even considering the possibility that my tenant might already be in Silverdell. Before, I mean. Earlier, I mean. When I...â
She took a deep breath, held out her hand and managed a smile. âI guess I should properly introduce myself, even if itâs a little late. Iâm Penny Wright. Iâm your...your....â
He took her hand. âMy landlady?â
She nodded. âI cannot tell you what an idiot I feel. If I had considered, even for a second, that you...that we...â
She flushed, starting at the neck, which wasnât very helpful, because it caused Max to focus on the graceful column of her throat. His gaze followed the pink stain up, as it spread across the delicate jawline, and then her cheeks.
And, just like that, there it was againâthe hot, helpless, fourteen-year-old feeling. He wanted to kiss that pulsing spot where her throat met her chinâand at the same time he wanted to be the white knight who knew exactly what to say to make her feel better.
But he couldnât do either one, because he was too busy hoping she couldnât tell what she did to him...physically. He realized he still held her hand, and he let it go as nonchalantly as he could.
He fought down the sensation. This was ridiculous. The both of them, grown adults, standing here temporarily reduced to blithering idiotsâall over a casual kiss. A quick, closed-mouth kiss between total strangers that had meant absolutely nothing.
Get a grip, Thorpe.
âYou shouldnât feel foolish,â he said, smiling. âIt was very sweet, and I didnât mind a bit. But if youâd rather, we could agree that it never happened.â
She nodded eagerly. âIf we could, if you would...I mean, that would be terrific. Iâd appreciate it. So much. Thatâs not really me. I mean, I donât do things like that, ordinarily. It was justâjust this silly thing I did because...you see, I was making this crazy list, andââ
He was loving the stumbling explanation, and wondering whether he might have grown too cynical, through the years. This innocent honesty didnât look like a sham. This looked like the real thing. An adorable, awkward naïveté.
But her cascade of half sentences was cut off by the arrival of more vehicles, which pulled up in a caravan and jockeyed one at a time for parking space in the street just outside the duplex. Max looked first at the newcomersâa late-model pickup truck, a hybrid SUV and a wildly expensive sports car. Then he looked at Penny, whose expressive face was registering both surprise and annoyance.
âOh, my goodness, they are impossible! I should never have told them the address!â She glanced at Max apologetically. âMy family. I told them not to come, but theyâre...well, they hover. They mean well, butââ
âHey! Penny!â A tall blond man in a suit hopped out of the truck, strode over and scooped Penny into his embrace. âWhat a surprise, kiddo! Ro called and she said
