and record player that had long ceased to work and that now held a selection of family photos on its wooden cover. His heart contracted briefly, seeing her gentle hands on the heirloom, but he pushed the feeling aside and cleared his throat. “You ready?”
“This is beautiful. And very old.”
He nodded. “It was my grandparents'. They used to play records on it. Some of the LPs are still inside, but the player doesn’t work anymore.”
“And this is your family?”
Luke stepped forward and looked at the assortment of photos. There were three graduation pictures—him and his sisters when they’d each completed twelfth grade. Cait’s and Liz’s wedding pictures were there as well, and baby pictures of Liz’s children. Soon Cait’s new baby would be featured there, too. There was a picture of three children all together, taken one golden autumn several years earlier, and in the middle sat a picture of his parents, his dad sitting down and his mom’s hand on his shoulder as they smiled for the camera. The last two pictures were difficult to look at. That had been the year that everything had changed. First his mom, and then his dad.
“My sister’s doing. Our parents always had pictures on here and she keeps it stocked.”
He saw a wrinkle form between her eyebrows and his jaw tightened. He wasn’t all that fond of the gallery of reminders, but Cait had insisted. He’d never been able to deny her anything, and he knew to take the pictures down would mean hurting Cait, and Liz, too, and he couldn’t do it.
“Your dad looks very handsome. You look like him. In the jaw and the shape of your mouth.”
Luke swallowed. He could correct her, but he knew in reality the handsome bit no longer applied to his father. Time and illness had leached it from his body, bit by painful bit. Luke didn’t want to be like him. Not that way. Not ever. The fact that he might not have a choice was something he dealt with every single day.
“I have work to do, Ms. Northcott. Do you think we can continue the tour now?”
She turned away from the family gallery and smiled at him. He’d done his best not to encourage friendliness, so why on earth was she beaming at him? It was like a ray of sunshine warming the room when she smiled at him like that. “I’d love to,” she replied.
Luke didn’t answer, just turned away from the radio with a coldness that he could see succeeded in wiping the smile from her face. “Let’s get a move on, then,” he said over his shoulder. “So I can get back to work.”
Emily scowled at his departing back. She had her work cut out for her, then. To her mind, Luke Evans had lived alone too long. His interpersonal skills certainly needed some polishing. Granted, her life hadn’t been all sunshine and flowers lately, but she at least could be pleasant. She refused to let his sour attitude ruin her day.
“Do you mind if I turn the TV on for Sam? That way we can get through faster. I don’t want to hold you up.” After his comment about Sam being a distraction, Emily figured this was the easiest way. After Evans was gone to the barn, she’d enlist Sam’s help and they’d work together. Make it fun.
As they started up the stairs, Luke turned around and paused, his hand on the banister. “I apologize for the sorry state of the house,” he said. “My sister hasn’t been by in a few weeks and with haying time and the new calves.”
“Isn’t that why I’m here?”
“I don’t want to scare you off,” he said, starting up the stairs once more. Gruff or not, Emily got the feeling that he was relieved she was there. Or at least relieved someone was there to do the job he required.
She followed him up, unable to avoid the sight of his bottom in the faded jeans. Two identical wear spots lightened the pockets. As he took her through the house she realized he hadn’t been exaggerating. The spare rooms had a fine film of dust on the furniture. The rugs were in desperate need of a vacuuming and he’d left his shaving gear and towel on the bathroom vanity this morning, along with whiskers dotting the white porcelain of the sink. The linen closet was a jumbled mess of pillows, blankets and sheets arranged in no particular order, and the laundry basket was filled to overflowing.
The tour continued and Emily tried to be positive through it all. “The floors are gorgeous,” she tried, hoping to put them on more of an even footing. “They look like the original hardwood.”
“They are. And they have the scratches to prove it.”
She bit back a sigh and tried again. “Scratches just add character. And the doors are solid wood rather than those hollow imitations in stores these days. Such a great color of stain.”
“They need refinishing.”
Emily gave up for the time being; her attempts at anything positive were completely ineffectual. She simply followed him down the hall. The smallest bedroom was painted a pale green and had one wall on a slant with a charming oval window looking over the fields. She fell in love with it immediately. A second room was painted pink and one wall had rosebud wallpaper. A third door remained closed—she presumed it was his room. But when he opened the door to the final room she caught her breath. It must have been his parents’ room, all gleaming dark wood and an ivory chenille spread. It was like stepping back in time—hooked rugs on the floor and dainty Priscilla curtains at the windows.
“What a beautiful room.” She looked up at Luke and saw a muscle tick in his jaw. It was almost as if seeing it caused him pain, but why?
“It belonged to my parents,” he answered, and shut the door before she could say any more.
Back in the kitchen the clean dishes were piled in the drying rack, the teetering pile a masterpiece of domestic engineering. In the partner sink, dirty dishes formed a smaller, stickier pile. The kitchen cupboards were sturdy solid oak, and Emily knew a washing with oil soap would make them gleam again. The fridge needed a good wiping down. She paused a moment to glance at the magnetic notepad stuck to the fridge door. It was simply a list of phone numbers. She frowned as she read the names Cait and Liz, wondering why he didn’t simply have his sister’s numbers memorized. After his brusqueness, there was no way on earth she’d ask.
Overall, the house was a throwback to what felt like a happier, simpler time. “All it needs is some love and polish, Mr. Evans. You have a beautiful home.”
The tour finished, Luke cleared his throat, his feet shifting from side to side. “I really need to get back to fixing the baler. This weather isn’t going to hold and I have help coming tomorrow. The job is yours, Ms. Northcott.”
She grinned at him, ready to tackle the dust and cobwebs and bring the house back to its former glory “You’ve got a deal.”
“Shouldn’t we talk salary?”
A shadow dimmed her excitement, but only for a moment. “I thought that was all taken care of through the agency. Unless you’ve made a change regarding …” She paused, glancing down at Sam.
“One boy won’t eat much. The wage stands, if it’s acceptable to you.”
“Agreed.”
“You’ll be okay to get settled then?”
“Oh, we’ll be fine. Does it matter which rooms we take?”
“One
