working yet.”
“He’s a detective,” Emily said. “He won’t be wearing a uniform.”
“No uniform? Oh. But that is good. Less upsetting.” To Emily, in a confidential undertone, she murmured, “I haven’t said anything to Frank yet. If there isn’t any uniform, he may never have to find out.” Her eyes flew to Brian. “Unless you put those bright lights on the top of your car.”
“No bright lights,” Brian assured her. “Not coming down this street.”
“Then why are you here, if not to come down this street?”
“He’s here,” Emily said softly, “because there was an opening in our department just when he needed to get away from New York. His wife died recently. He wants a quiet place to raise Julia.”
Myra clucked her tongue. “What a sad story. But don’t be fooled,” she told Brian. “Grannick isn’t so quiet. Things happen here, too.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Now, I knew that. See, Emily, I knew he was here to solve things. But who’s taking care of Julia while he does that?”
“He’s arranging for day care in town.”
“Well, that’s a silly thing to do.” To Brian, brightly, she said, “I can take care of Julia. I make the most lovely tea parties under my willow. Don’t I, Emily?”
Emily touched her arm. “Julia needs to be with other children.”
“Not if she’s sick. She can’t go out then. I don’t like the idea of day care. Frank doesn’t either. He says children should be at home.” Myra turned a stern look on Brian. “If Julia is sick, you come get me and I’ll stay with her. Do you promise you’ll do that? It’s the least I can do for you, after you’ve come all this way. I make wonderful lace cookies. And mittens. I’ve taken good care of Emily—haven’t I, Emily?”
Emily put an arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the door. “Very good care. Did I tell you that we put the afghan you crocheted for Jill right on her bed at school?”
“Did you really? How nice! I miss Jill. If I make her some cookies, can we send them to her?”
“You make them, I’ll send them. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Emily waited until she was down the stairs before turning apologetically to Brian. “She is a very sweet, very harmless lady, and she does make wonderful cookies.”
Brian completed her thought. “But I shouldn’t let her babysit Julia.”
Emily felt disloyal. Still, she shook her head. “She isn’t batty, exactly. She’s perfectly lucid when it comes to most things. Her family wants to put her into a nursing home, but that would kill her—and there isn’t any need. She is entirely capable of taking care of herself. Unfortunately, she lives with Frank.”
“Is he a problem?”
“Depends on how you see it. He’s been dead for six years.”
“Oh.”
“For whatever reasons, she can’t accept it. She cooks for him, sets a place for him at the table, refers to him in conversation.”
“Were they married a very long time?”
“Yes.”
“And very close?”
“I suppose.” Emily had never quite understood the appeal. “Frank was a difficult man. Not terribly social. He drank. I don’t know if he ever hit Myra, but he was verbally abusive. I heard it more than once. He held a power over her. She was terrified of him. Quite honestly, I thought that when he died she would be freed, but it’s like she can’t let go.”
“Sad.”
“Very.” She met his gaze. “But don’t let Myra scare you away. She’s a wonderful neighbor. She’s always looked out for Jill and me, brings us food, little gifts, in exchange for our sitting with her under the willow. That’s all she wants. She isn’t dangerous.”
“I never thought she was. She won’t scare me away. I’m sold on this place, especially”—his mouth quirked endearingly—“if you let me put that window in.”
The window was as done a deal as the lease itself. All that remained was to sign the papers.
The paperwork was done by the end of the week, both
“He’s a detective,” Emily said. “He won’t be wearing a uniform.”
“No uniform? Oh. But that is good. Less upsetting.” To Emily, in a confidential undertone, she murmured, “I haven’t said anything to Frank yet. If there isn’t any uniform, he may never have to find out.” Her eyes flew to Brian. “Unless you put those bright lights on the top of your car.”
“No bright lights,” Brian assured her. “Not coming down this street.”
“Then why are you here, if not to come down this street?”
“He’s here,” Emily said softly, “because there was an opening in our department just when he needed to get away from New York. His wife died recently. He wants a quiet place to raise Julia.”
Myra clucked her tongue. “What a sad story. But don’t be fooled,” she told Brian. “Grannick isn’t so quiet. Things happen here, too.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Now, I knew that. See, Emily, I knew he was here to solve things. But who’s taking care of Julia while he does that?”
“He’s arranging for day care in town.”
“Well, that’s a silly thing to do.” To Brian, brightly, she said, “I can take care of Julia. I make the most lovely tea parties under my willow. Don’t I, Emily?”
Emily touched her arm. “Julia needs to be with other children.”
“Not if she’s sick. She can’t go out then. I don’t like the idea of day care. Frank doesn’t either. He says children should be at home.” Myra turned a stern look on Brian. “If Julia is sick, you come get me and I’ll stay with her. Do you promise you’ll do that? It’s the least I can do for you, after you’ve come all this way. I make wonderful lace cookies. And mittens. I’ve taken good care of Emily—haven’t I, Emily?”
Emily put an arm around her shoulder and guided her toward the door. “Very good care. Did I tell you that we put the afghan you crocheted for Jill right on her bed at school?”
“Did you really? How nice! I miss Jill. If I make her some cookies, can we send them to her?”
“You make them, I’ll send them. Deal?”
“Deal.”
Emily waited until she was down the stairs before turning apologetically to Brian. “She is a very sweet, very harmless lady, and she does make wonderful cookies.”
Brian completed her thought. “But I shouldn’t let her babysit Julia.”
Emily felt disloyal. Still, she shook her head. “She isn’t batty, exactly. She’s perfectly lucid when it comes to most things. Her family wants to put her into a nursing home, but that would kill her—and there isn’t any need. She is entirely capable of taking care of herself. Unfortunately, she lives with Frank.”
“Is he a problem?”
“Depends on how you see it. He’s been dead for six years.”
“Oh.”
“For whatever reasons, she can’t accept it. She cooks for him, sets a place for him at the table, refers to him in conversation.”
“Were they married a very long time?”
“Yes.”
“And very close?”
“I suppose.” Emily had never quite understood the appeal. “Frank was a difficult man. Not terribly social. He drank. I don’t know if he ever hit Myra, but he was verbally abusive. I heard it more than once. He held a power over her. She was terrified of him. Quite honestly, I thought that when he died she would be freed, but it’s like she can’t let go.”
“Sad.”
“Very.” She met his gaze. “But don’t let Myra scare you away. She’s a wonderful neighbor. She’s always looked out for Jill and me, brings us food, little gifts, in exchange for our sitting with her under the willow. That’s all she wants. She isn’t dangerous.”
“I never thought she was. She won’t scare me away. I’m sold on this place, especially”—his mouth quirked endearingly—“if you let me put that window in.”
The window was as done a deal as the lease itself. All that remained was to sign the papers.
The paperwork was done by the end of the week, both
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