Chapter 25

Candace turned another page of the old photo album she’d pulled from a bookshelf in the living room and exclaimed again, laughing out loud at the picture of her and Michelle, ages twelve and ten, fighting in the backyard over the sprinkler on a hot day. She remembered that day, one of the few times she’d gotten the better of her younger sister. Grandad had taken the picture from the back steps moments before Candace wrested control of the weapon and chased Michelle all over the yard, soaking them both and beating the heat at the same time. Afterward, they’d come inside to freshly baked oatmeal cookies and lemonade with mint from Gran’s garden. After growing up with Tricia for a mom, it had been like moving from an inner-city war zone into an episode of Father Knows Best.

Okay, she was exaggerating. Michelle would certainly say so, too, but Candace couldn’t quite forgive their mother for her neglect, or at very least, her complete lack of understanding about anyone’s needs but her own.

Another page turned, another picture, this one of their dog, Carver, a Cairn terrier mix, in the act of jumping for a ball Candace was holding out to him. By the blurry image and Candace’s missing head, she’d guess Michelle took the picture.

“Knock-knock?”

Candace jumped and closed the album. “Nolan.”

“Did I startle you? Sorry.” He was polishing an apple on his white Nike T-shirt, glancing at the book in her lap.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Catlike tread.” He took a big bite of the apple and grinned; her whole being responded to that smile. For God’s sake.

“How was your coffee date with Annie?”

Acid showed through what she’d planned to be a casual tone. Oops.

“Fun.” He came to the doorway of the living room and leaned an elbow up on the jamb, watching her intently. “But I’m not interested, and it turns out she isn’t after me at all.”

“Oh?” She opened the album again. Her attempt to sound disinterested hadn’t worked, either; she sounded as if her heart had just started beating again.

“She’s after my money.”

“Oh, God.” Candace wrinkled her nose in disgust even as she wilted into relief. Call her Pollyanna, but the whole idea of valuing someone for what he had instead of who he was repulsed her. “How romantic.”

“It was okay, though.” He examined the apple for another likely biting place. “I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

She nodded, turned a page pretending to examine a photograph carefully while minutely tuned in to his presence.

“Don’t you want to know when?”

“What?” She looked up to find him chuckling, turning the apple around in his long fingers. “When what?”

“Dinner tonight? Drink? Both?”

She blinked, completely taken aback. “You and me?”

“Uh…” He pretended to look confused. “Is there someone else in the room?”

“Nolan…” She hugged the album to her chest. “Thank you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I agreed to stay on during the hurricane, but it doesn’t mean—”

“Michelle will be out tonight. She called me from work. I don’t think there’s much in the refrigerator, so I suggested going out.” He crunched into the apple, which he’d nearly finished.

“I was going to go to the supermarket and—”

“Great, I’ll come with you.” He ate the last few bites, grinning with sneaky triumph. “You drive.”

Candace couldn’t help smiling. What a piece of work. She also couldn’t help a silly burst of satisfaction at his insistence that she drive. Sam never let her except on long trips, a ridiculous male ego stunt. She remembered Gran telling her long ago before she could really understand—she was probably all of eleven—when she’d commented on Grandad helping in the kitchen wearing an apron, that it took more male security and strength not to worry about appearances than it did to cling to stereotypes of macho behavior. “Fine. We’ll go. I’ll drive.”

“Hey, are those old pictures?” He gestured to the album. “Can I see?”

She nodded, strangely reluctant.

“I’ll wash my hands.” He disappeared toward the kitchen. Candace let her shoulders relax, realizing they’d been up somewhere around her ears. Why did this man set her so on edge? Maybe because she never knew what to expect next. Charm, teasing, seduction, friendship. He fascinated her, and tired her out, too. With Sam she always knew what to expect, right from the beginning. She’d never had such a smooth courtship. They drifted right into togetherness, each knowing it was what the other wanted, too. None of this agony of push-pull.

But also none of this excitement. Was this a tiny version of the danger and thrills Michelle seemed to want from men? Candace would go gray in six months at her level.

“Okay, clean and ready.”

She held out the album but he crossed the room and sat next to her, close, so their hips nearly touched, his arm draped casually across the back of the couch behind her. He smelled of soap and Nolan. Immediately, and predictably, her heart sped up, her shoulder wanted to lean into his. Had he implanted Candace-magnets under his skin?

“The first half of the album is mostly pictures Gran and Grandad took.”

She leafed through a few pages, conflicted, as if letting him into her past was like letting him into her life, which she guessed in a way it was. “This is Mom.”

“Ah.” He peered intently for a few seconds. “Michelle never talks about her. Where does she live?”

“This week? I don’t know.” She turned the page again, not wanting to go on about Tricia, hoping he wouldn’t ask. “Our dog, Carver. Michelle, our brother, Andrew and me. My first birthday party.”

“You’re a lot older than one…”

“I was ten. But it was my first party. Mom didn’t go for that kind of thing. Here’s our trip to Kilbrough.”

He watched with her, listened to her explanations, laughed at the stories, didn’t press when she hurried past photos that pushed too many buttons.

She felt warmed by his interest, cozy sitting with him here like this, in a truce, in a trance.

Why couldn’t he fall for Michelle? She nearly snorted out loud. Who was she kidding? Her heart would crack and shatter. She might as well admit a large part of the reason she was still here was that he asked her to stay.

“You said the first half of the album was pictures taken by your grandparents. What’s the second half?”