Dallas shifted her gaze away, springing to her feet. “Of course. What other reason could there be?” Dallas could never sit still, but Ellie suspected her restlessness had less to do with habit and more with…something else just now.
Ellie looked down at the marble floor.
“Gotta go, kiddo,” Dallas said abruptly. She patted Ellie’s shoulder and whirled away to poke her head into the parlor and call out a farewell before setting off.
Ellie watched her go with a heavy heart. Frankly, she missed her friend. The two of them usually spent hours a day talking or just hanging out, but since the fire a distance had grown between them. The fire had left so many questions in Ellie’s mind, questions for which Ash Chatam would surely demand answers.
“You’re looking very pensive,” her grandfather noted, as he trundled through the parlor doorway and across the foyer.
“Am I? Well, it’s been a busy day.”
“Keep you hopping, do they, all those five-and six-year-olds?”
“Do they ever!”
“You adore them, every one,” he remarked.
Ellie smiled. “They’re such fun.”
“Have fun with what you’re doing—” Kent began.
“—and you’ll never want to do anything else,” Ellie finished for him.
Ruffling her curls as he had done since she’d had curls to ruffle, he started up the steps, but then he paused, his gaze going back toward the parlor. Bending, he quietly asked, “Have you noticed how subdued she is?”
Ellie didn’t have to ask which “she” he meant. “Um-hm. But I wouldn’t read too much into it.”
Sighing, he straightened and began the long climb, muttering to himself, “A subdued Odelia is not the real Odelia.”
Ellie pretended not to hear, her gaze on the bright yellow door that led out onto the front porch of the mansion, where Chatams had lived, according to Dallas, since the last brick had been laid. Even Asher had lived here for a short time long ago while his house was being built on the north side of town. She closed her eyes in dismay, once more seeking spiritual comfort.
Oh, if only the Chatam sisters had not called Ash into this mess!
It couldn’t end well for any of them, not for Dallas, not for her grandfather, not even for the Chatam sisters, who had been so very kind, and certainly not for herself.
Broken hearts, she very much feared, were soon going to be the rule rather than the exception—her own among them.
Chapter Two
Shifting in her customary seat on the antique settee, Odelia stifled a sigh. The room seemed strangely vacant now that Kent had excused himself. He’d stayed only long enough to be polite after Asher had gone, but then, Kent never lingered in her presence for a moment longer than necessary. She couldn’t blame him.
Who would have imagined that her former fiancé would one day take sanctuary here at Chatam House? Odelia certainly would not have, not after what she’d done to him. Perhaps time had diminished the hurt she’d dealt him, but she was only too glad to provide him a kindness now or anytime. When Dallas had first explained the situation nearly two weeks ago, the first reaction of Odelia’s sisters had been to gently refuse, but Odelia herself had argued fiercely that God had His reasons for bringing the Monroes to their doorstep, and she still believed that. She just hadn’t counted on how having Kent in the house would affect her.
How could it be that after all these years, some small vestige of her original feelings for the man would still be rattling around inside this old heart of hers? Now, she longed continually for his company and, though he avoided her, dreaded the day when the Monroes would move back into their house. Why, oh, why had Hypatia and Magnolia insisted on calling in Asher? Their nephew was bound to get to the bottom of things and come to terms with the insurance company in short order, and then, before she knew it, Kent would be gone again. Well, perhaps it was for the best at that.
Blanching, she looked down at her hands, ringed fingers twining together anxiously. Once, she had wanted very much to marry Kent Monroe, and had nearly done so. Only at the last moment had she realized that she could never be happy living apart from her dear sisters. But when she had suggested to Kent that they live with her family, he hadn’t taken it very well, claiming that a “real man” would make his own home. She had understood that perfectly, but it had still hurt.
The aftermath of the breakup had been quite difficult for her, but she had never regretted her decision not to marry. Kent had truly been the only man who had ever tempted her to do so. When Kent had married Deirdre Billups, Odelia had put away her secret longings, and she had been more than content over the years. She had actually been quite happy and genuinely glad for Kent and Deirdre when, after years of marriage, their son had been born. Likewise, she had grieved for Kent and Deirdre when their son had died in an accident at the age of forty-one and then again, over a decade ago now, for Kent when Deirdre had succumbed to an aneurysm.
Since that time, she and Kent had gradually renewed their friendship, always keeping a polite distance. She had found that arrangement very satisfactory and had imagined that they would end their lives as casual friends with their shared past unremarked but unforgotten, at least between the two of them. Instead, in thirteen short days she had somehow reverted to her old foolish self, longing for the kind of relationship that she had long since determined was not for her. How could she, at her age, feel such nonsensical, girlish emotions? She was simply astounded.
“Dearest, are you all right?” Hypatia asked, calling Odelia from her reverie.
Odelia looked up, glancing from one sister to the other. Both watched her with concern etched upon their faces.
“Who, me?”
“Certainly she means you,” Magnolia said with a snort. “Who else? I certainly wasn’t engaged to Kent Monroe.”
Odelia forced herself to laugh brightly, hoping that it didn’t sound as stilted as she feared. “I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be? It’s not our house that caught fire.”
“You just seem…not yourself lately,” Hypatia observed gently.
“Not yourself,” Magnolia agreed.
“If having Kent Monroe here is disturbing to you—” Hypatia began.
“It could be dyspepsia,” Magnolia pointed out brusquely. “You remember how Mother suffered with dyspepsia. It put her all out of sorts.”
“—we could always offer to put them up in a hotel,” Hypatia went on, sending Magnolia a speaking glance.
“I’m not dyspeptic!” Odelia insisted, turning on Magnolia. “I’ve never had digestive difficulties in my life.” As her waistline must surely demonstrate, she thought morosely.
“Well, of all of us, you’re most like Mother,” Magnolia argued defensively.
Plump, she means, Odelia thought. Perhaps she ought to pay a bit more attention to what she ate, she decided, mumbling, “My digestion is
