she’d lived in this house, there’d been a constant flow of words that mattered. Winton reading aloud, May teaching her to bake, Cindy and Tim and later Joelle playing Monopoly or Scrabble. Then there were the warm spring days the family spent on the spot Winton cleared for softball, and the cheering, the screaming, the distracting cries of
batter, batter, swing!
She’d woken up thinking about seasonal themes for the dining rooms, and had been playing with the idea since. After talking to Ten on Saturday, she’d decided she wanted to add a fourth room to the connected eating spaces, and was waiting for him to get here so they could discuss whether it was best to add the solarium or the parlor to the maze.
The parlor was her first choice, as it would expand the dining area toward the front of the house, keeping the rooms at the rear hers and private. Plus, she loved the solarium. Almost as much as the kitchen. She’d spent so much time in there doing homework or reading or napping, or staring out at the trees, lost in thought. And yet these days she was hardly ever alone, and the thoughts she would’ve once kept to herself she was sharing with Luna and Ten.
There had to be some reason she felt so free to disclose the details of her life to these people she’d just met. Talking about her past was not part of her plan. She wasn’t a talker, a sharer. She never had been, but especially not when it came to her feelings. May had tried in that way she’d had, kindand subtle and making it seem as if she wasn’t prompting at all, to get Kaylie to open up.
But that part of her had closed down the day her mother had left their apartment bandaged and handcuffed in an ambulance, and social services had taken Kaylie out of Ernest Flynn’s arms. She knew she came across at times as cold, as aloof, as distant, but keeping her feelings to herself was how she’d survived. So why was she opening up now? Was it the magic of the house? Was it the people coming into her life?
Or was she in a better personal place, finally ready to shed the protective cocoon of isolation she’d spent so much time burrowed inside?
She was just reaching for her coffee when she heard the slam of a truck door. Finally. Magoo heard it, too, rousing and trotting to the mudroom. She glanced out the window at her right in time to see a man in black Dockers and a white dress shirt with cuffed sleeves step down from a truck much like Ten’s.
His hair was buzzed short, and he wore a goatee, both the honest salt-and-pepper of his age, though he moved like a man much younger and she realized he was built like a younger man as well. She watched as he made his way up the driveway, slowing as he studied the house and the grounds.
She hopped down and stretched—she’d been sitting hunched over way too long—and tossed her pencil and paper to the counter behind her, making her way to the door. Giving Magoo the signal to stay at her side, she walked out and raised a hand in greeting. “Hello.”
The man’s head came up sharply, and he stopped in his tracks as if startled, shoving his hands into his pockets as hestared at her and frowned. She obviously wasn’t who he’d been expecting, because his frown deepened and then he swallowed, his throat working as he raised a hand to scratch at one side of his jaw.
“Can I help you?” she asked. Guard dog Magoo sensed no threat and sat, his wagging tail stirring up driveway dust.
“I’m sorry,” the man said, holding up a finger. “Give me one second.” He returned to his truck, opened the door, rubbing at his forehead, then at his eyes, as he leaned to reach for something in the cab.
Kaylie waited, wondering if he was here to meet Ten, maybe checking to see if he had the right time or right address. Will Bowman was due later to get back to work on the shutters, but the internal construction wasn’t scheduled yet. She was expecting Ten later, too.
She started to call out and tell her visitor just
batter, batter, swing!
She’d woken up thinking about seasonal themes for the dining rooms, and had been playing with the idea since. After talking to Ten on Saturday, she’d decided she wanted to add a fourth room to the connected eating spaces, and was waiting for him to get here so they could discuss whether it was best to add the solarium or the parlor to the maze.
The parlor was her first choice, as it would expand the dining area toward the front of the house, keeping the rooms at the rear hers and private. Plus, she loved the solarium. Almost as much as the kitchen. She’d spent so much time in there doing homework or reading or napping, or staring out at the trees, lost in thought. And yet these days she was hardly ever alone, and the thoughts she would’ve once kept to herself she was sharing with Luna and Ten.
There had to be some reason she felt so free to disclose the details of her life to these people she’d just met. Talking about her past was not part of her plan. She wasn’t a talker, a sharer. She never had been, but especially not when it came to her feelings. May had tried in that way she’d had, kindand subtle and making it seem as if she wasn’t prompting at all, to get Kaylie to open up.
But that part of her had closed down the day her mother had left their apartment bandaged and handcuffed in an ambulance, and social services had taken Kaylie out of Ernest Flynn’s arms. She knew she came across at times as cold, as aloof, as distant, but keeping her feelings to herself was how she’d survived. So why was she opening up now? Was it the magic of the house? Was it the people coming into her life?
Or was she in a better personal place, finally ready to shed the protective cocoon of isolation she’d spent so much time burrowed inside?
She was just reaching for her coffee when she heard the slam of a truck door. Finally. Magoo heard it, too, rousing and trotting to the mudroom. She glanced out the window at her right in time to see a man in black Dockers and a white dress shirt with cuffed sleeves step down from a truck much like Ten’s.
His hair was buzzed short, and he wore a goatee, both the honest salt-and-pepper of his age, though he moved like a man much younger and she realized he was built like a younger man as well. She watched as he made his way up the driveway, slowing as he studied the house and the grounds.
She hopped down and stretched—she’d been sitting hunched over way too long—and tossed her pencil and paper to the counter behind her, making her way to the door. Giving Magoo the signal to stay at her side, she walked out and raised a hand in greeting. “Hello.”
The man’s head came up sharply, and he stopped in his tracks as if startled, shoving his hands into his pockets as hestared at her and frowned. She obviously wasn’t who he’d been expecting, because his frown deepened and then he swallowed, his throat working as he raised a hand to scratch at one side of his jaw.
“Can I help you?” she asked. Guard dog Magoo sensed no threat and sat, his wagging tail stirring up driveway dust.
“I’m sorry,” the man said, holding up a finger. “Give me one second.” He returned to his truck, opened the door, rubbing at his forehead, then at his eyes, as he leaned to reach for something in the cab.
Kaylie waited, wondering if he was here to meet Ten, maybe checking to see if he had the right time or right address. Will Bowman was due later to get back to work on the shutters, but the internal construction wasn’t scheduled yet. She was expecting Ten later, too.
She started to call out and tell her visitor just
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