Really love him. Because he seemed vitally alone.
Beware, whispered her hormones.
But she was aware now and had every intention of being careful.
Surely it wasn’t wrong to feel compassion for him, though. His sister was in the middle of a frightening crisis, after all.
She showed him her Oriental lacquer room and the long, skinny hall where she displayed a range of Oriental carpets. She reserved the far east room for women’s art—sculptures, oils, watercolors, cameos of women in all shapes and forms. The west room across the hall echoed a range of art about males—men sleeping, studying, working, fighting, enjoying guy hobbies. Down a few doors was her “room of light,” which displayed work with gems.
“Sheesh, Emma. You’ve put together the most unique gallery I’ve ever seen,” he said. “The way you present everything is just…fun. But it’s also thoughtful and interesting.”
“Quit being so nice. It’s going to my head.” But damn, it was nice to share her love. She’d put a ton of thought into every room, every piece she used for display, every artist she chose to represent. “Hey, you haven’t said what you were doing at the real-estate office. You suddenly thinking about buying property in Eastwick?”
“When hell freezes over,” he said wryly, but he motioned to the sheaf of papers under his arm. “I picked up a list of short-term rentals from the agent.”
“I thought you’d planned to stay home?”
“So did I.” His tone was rueful. “I should have known that wouldn’t work. But now that I’ve been around Caroline, talked to her doctors, I’m afraid I’m going to be here for a while. At least a few weeks.”
“Oh, Garrett. You’re that worried your sister isn’t going to recover from this?”
“I just don’t know. In fact, all I know is that I can’t leave her. And I’ll likely get on better with my parents if I’m not under their feet—and they’re not under mine.” He walked into the upstairs bathroom—just to see what she’d done in there, as if he knew she’d done something. And she had. The ceiling was a mural of graphic comic art, all superheroes. He came out chuckling—and claiming to have a crook in his neck—but he pretty swiftly returned to their conversation.
“Anyway…I decided I’d better look for some alternative living arrangement. So far, though, I’m not thrilled with the places the real-estate agent came up with. All of them are a distance from town. I don’t want that, don’t want to stay in a hotel either. It’s easy enough for me to fly or helicopter into New York several times a week. All I need is a simple place to set up a temporary office. A bed, a mini kitchen. Some quiet. A place to set up a computer, fax, printer, that sort of thing. I don’t want anything fancy or far.”
She frowned thoughtfully as she led him back downstairs. “If you want a place in town, I actually know of one. Just two doors down, in fact.”
Garrett raised an eyebrow. “The agent claimed there was nothing close in town.”
“That’s because it’s not on the formal market.” She explained the situation. Most of the old homes on the block used to be residential, but they’d been gradually turning into businesses—lawyers, accountants, psychologists, brokers, that kind of thing. Not the kind of commerce that required big parking needs, but quiet enterprises that were willing to maintain the historical flavor of the buildings. “Anyway, my neighbor, Marietta Collins, is a holdout. She rented her upstairs to a boarder, a writer, only he recently moved. She didn’t list it because she only wants to rent to friends of friends. I have no idea what the place looks like, Garrett, so maybe it won’t suit you at all. But if you like, I could call her…”
He did like. It only took Emma a second to dial and find out the place was still available for rent. Garrett blinked at the price.
“I can’t imagine why she’s giving it away.”
“Well, it could be a clunker. But I think she just really wants someone she can trust living above her.”
“Good thing you had pull, huh?” From the amused sparkle in his eyes, Garrett was obviously not used to anyone having to pull strings for him—likely it was usually the other way around.
“Well, you’d better see it before you get your hopes up. You might decide the real-estate agent had better ideas for you.”
“There really isn’t much to rent. You know how Eastwick is. Everyone wants to own. And no one’s looking to encourage transients.”
She had to laugh at the idea of Garrett being considered a transient. And though he expressed concern over stealing any more of her workday, she walked over to the place with him. She knew Marietta would be uneasy without a personal introduction—and she was also a little worried what she might have gotten him into. If the place was a disaster, she didn’t want him to feel obligated to take it because of her.
Marrietta Collins took one look at Garrett, beamed and promptly gave them the key to check out the upstairs at their leisure.
Emma’s impression of the apartment was the opposite of Garrett’s. “Well, it isn’t exactly a garret, Garrett, but—”
“That pun is sick. I’ve always liked a sick sense of humor in a woman.”
She had to chuckle—but the apartment was hardly what Garrett must be used to. A few centuries before, the structure had been a tavern where customers slept upstairs—apparently next to each other, since there was only one main room. Obviously the details had been modernized, but the core architecture had been preserved. The mellow old floorboards creaked and groaned, but they’d obviously been treasured, because they were polished to a high gleam. Honey-pine paneling framed a small stone fireplace. The bathroom was strictly utilitarian, but the tiny kitchen area had an eating nook tucked under a graceful Palladian window, shaded by giant elms just outside.
“The furniture’s the pits,” Emma said ruefully.
Garrett was checking out every window view. “Spoken like a woman,” he teased. “There’s a couch and a chair. What more do I need?”
“Some lamps. Some pictures. Some rugs,” she fussed.
“It’s got a decent desk.” He motioned to the relic that may—may—have been a teacher’s desk in some century past. Emma loved antiques, but in this case she thought someone should have had the sense to throw it out—in that same century past.
“I guess I just assumed there’d be a separate bedroom.” Instead a double bed was tucked in a side alcove, slanted under the eaves.
“This way there’ll be lots of airflow. Ideal in the summer.”
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