live in a studio in Manhattan.”
“Yikes. Those places aren’t cheap.”
“You sound as if you know that.”
He nodded. “Columbia School of Law. I shared a place on the Upper West Side with three other law students and it was still pricey.”
She nodded sympathetically, then remembered again that he couldn’t see her. That was something she’d always taken for granted. It was a little shocking to realize how much of a role body language played in her interactions. “You can say that again. I didn’t realize just how expensive it was until I started looking for something in Gettysburg. I like it much better here.”
“It’s a great little town,” Brendan responded. “Any special reason you chose it?”
“Not really.” She had no intention of telling anyone in her new life about her old one. “I came here in high school on a class trip and thought it was lovely, so I just decided to see if it was still as I remembered it. And it was, so I started hunting for a place.”
“You’re lucky to have found this. These apartments don’t turn over often. The tenant before you was a bachelor who lived there for almost thirty years.”
“Who knows?” she said lightly. “I might be here in thirty years myself.” She cleared her throat. “Well, I won’t keep you. It was nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” he responded. “Good luck with the rest of those boxes.”
“I promise I won’t leave them in the hallway,” she said with a chuckle.
“If I’d had a guide with me like I should have, it wouldn’t have mattered,” he countered as he turned toward the street. “Have a good afternoon.”
“Thanks.” She almost lifted a hand before she caught herself.
“Cedar, forward.” Brendan turned his attention from her to the dog.
She watched as he walked confidently away from her to the end of the block and headed toward the pretty little center square. She wondered how he’d lost his sight. He had an awful lot of the mannerisms of one who’d once been able to see, like the way he confidently extended his hand for a shake, or like the simple way he seemed to focus right on her face as he spoke. If she didn’t know better, she’d have sworn he was looking right at her.
She thought again of the cookies she had planned to bake. She’d still make them, even though he seemed to have accepted her apology.
That evening Brendan was checking his e-mail when his doorbell rang. Feather and Cedar, lying on opposite sides of his chair in his study, both leaped to their feet, although neither of them barked. Cedar barreled toward the door, but Feather stayed with him, and he put a hand on her head as he stood, turned around and automatically negotiated his way across his office. “You’re my good girl,” he told her softly as they went down the hall and through the living room.
“Who is it?” he called as he reached the door. Cedar’s broad tail thumped against the front of his right leg while Feather simply hovered near his left side.
“Lynne. Your neighbor.”
She wouldn’t have needed to add that. He’d remembered her name instantly. Not to mention the softness of her hand and her pleasantly husky voice.
Cut it out, Brendan. You’re not interested.
It was a lot easier to tell himself that than it was to believe it. “Hi,” he said, unlocking the dead bolt and pulling open the door. “I didn’t expect to see you again today.”
“I brought a peace offering.”
He heard the sound of tinfoil rustling, and then an incredibly, amazingly wonderful smell assailed his nostrils.
“What is that?” he asked, inhaling deeply. “It smells heavenly.”
“Chocolate peanut-butter cookies,” she said. “My grandmother’s recipe.”
“You didn’t need to do this,” he said.
“I know.” She paused for a moment and he’d bet his last nickel that she’d shrugged. “But I really am sorry for cluttering up the hallway, and besides, I needed a good excuse to make these.”
He laughed. “If they taste as good as they smell, I can see why. Would you like to come in?”
“Oh, no, I—”
“Please,” he said. “I fully intend to dig into these cookies right away and it would be nice to share them with someone who says something besides woof.”
It was her turn to laugh. “In that case, I’d be delighted.”
Brendan stepped aside and waited until he heard her pass through the doorway and move beyond it. Closing the door, he indicated the arrangement of easy chairs, couch and tables in his living room. “Please, sit down. Would you like a drink?”
“Do you have water or milk?” she asked. “Either of those would be fine.”
“No milk,” he said. “Are you an ice or no-ice person?”
“Ice, please.”
What in the world had possessed him to invite her in? As he got a glass of water for each of them as well as a handful of napkins and returned to the living room, he decided it was the voice. He’d already decided that getting tight with the new neighbor could get sticky, but something about that sexy, low-pitched voice had completely overruled his better judgment. Setting his glass down, he reached for the coasters he kept on his coffee table and slipped one under each glass. “There.”
Tinfoil rustled again and he realized she was removing the wrapping from the cookies. “Your dogs certainly are well behaved,” she said. “When I was a child, we had a cocker spaniel who would eat anything left unattended.”
“At least he wasn’t a big dog.”
She laughed, and the sound was a warm peal of music that made him smile in return. “Oh, high places didn’t faze Ethel. That dog climbed onto chairs—and tables—and could leap right up onto the counter. Drove my mother wild.”
He was used to hearing unusual names for dogs. But…“Ethel?”
“We had Lucy, too. But Ethel was the problem child.”
He chuckled. “That’s a polite way to phrase it.”
“You have no idea,” she said in a dry tone. “Are all guide dogs this well behaved?”
“For the most part.” He nodded. “They’re still only dogs, though. Just about the time I get to thinking my dog is perfect, he or she reminds me that there is no such animal.”
“You spend a lot of time training them, though.”
“We mostly just brush up on obedience on a regular basis and work on any specific commands we want to use. The puppy raisers are the ones who get the credit for the pleasant behavior.”
