When Adam Came to Town. Kate Kelly
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“Whose roof are we talking about?” He looked at Sylvie. “I thought you’d left already, Sylvie. Better get going. I don’t like you driving back from Lancaster in the dark.”
Sylvie’s father or grandfather, if his looks were anything to go by. He was as tall as Dusty but more solid, bulkier. Despite his age, he still had a full head of blond hair. He held himself with the casual authority of someone used to commanding respect.
“His roof.” Dusty jerked his thumb in his direction. “Adam Hunter. Mrs. Johnson was his grandmother, and he inherited her house. This is our dad, Pops Carson.”
Not big on authority figures, Adam tried not to flinch as he met the old man’s stare straight on. “You’ve got a beautiful town here,” he said to fill the heavy silence in the café.
Pops shook his hand. “Your grandmother was a lovely person. I was sorry to hear she died. You’re from Toronto, aren’t you?”
“That’s where I grew up.”
“Toronto’s a long way from here.”
“That it is. I’m looking forward to a bit of peace and quiet.” He’d told himself that so many times, it had become a mantra. Peace and quiet. His salvation.
Pops switched his attention to the red patch on the back of Sylvie’s hand. “What did you do to your hand?”
“It’s nothing.” She turned her hand so only the palm showed.
“That looks like a burn. It could blister and get infected if you don’t take proper care of it. Let me see.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “It’s okay, Pops. My hand is not going to fall off because I spilled a bit of coffee on it.” She put her hand up to stop her father’s retort. “I’ll go home before I head out for Lancaster and put some ointment on it. Okay? Your turn. Did you take your morning medication?”
A smile softened Pops’s weather-lined face. “Just going to do that now, missy. You phone when you leave the city to come home so I’ll know when to expect you.”
“No, I won’t,” she responded over her shoulder as she sashayed toward the door. “You’ll be too busy chasing all the women at the dance. Come on, Adam. I’ll show you where your house is. I have to run back home now, anyway. See you later, all.” She waved over her shoulder and led the way out of the café.
Adam bit back a smile, nodded to the two men and followed her. Sylvie’s father and brother might like to think they held the upper hand, but he had a feeling the sassy little angel was used to getting her own way. Something to keep in mind.
He climbed into his truck and gave Romeo a hard scrub behind his ears. “This is it, Rom. What we’ve been waiting for.” He started the motor, his leg jittering so much the truck almost stalled as he engaged the clutch. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out behind Sylvie’s fire engine–red SUV.
He’d envisioned this moment a thousand times. In his mind, it had been him, alone, standing in front of the house and taking his time to soak in each and every detail before going inside to explore. He hadn’t counted on having an audience. Still, he was grateful to Sylvie for rescuing him from her father’s interrogation. He was so jacked up about seeing his house, he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he should have to what he said. He wanted this to work. He needed it to.
He followed Sylvie’s four-wheel drive down a short side street that was lined with wood frame houses, each one different from the other. The last one was a lumbering old beauty with a widow’s walk on its roof and fanciful trim. Driving into the village, he’d noticed a couple of other houses with the same kind of intricate detail. Once he got to know some people, he’d ask what the story was behind the elaborate carpentry.
It had been over seventeen years since he’d been here, and the end of the street came up quicker than he remembered. A long stretch of beach and the wide gray ocean opened up in front of him. When Sylvie turned sharply to the right, he cranked his steering wheel and strained forward to catch his first glimpse of his gram’s house. Sylvie drove past 2 Briar Lane and pulled into the gravel driveway of a cedar-shingled two-story. He pulled into the weedy, narrow driveway he barely remembered and turned his attention to the small box of a house that sat before him.
His gaze shot over to his neighbor’s house, which had dormers and a huge veranda along the front, then back to his. His had cedar shingles, too, but they looked mottled, the white paint peeling from them, partially exposing the gray beneath. The windows and front door looked like they’d rattle in a light breeze, and the way the stunted spruce between the houses leaned drastically to one side suggested they got their share of gales here. A huge crescent beach crept up to meet the small patch of grass that formed his front yard.
“Hey.” Sylvie rapped her knuckles against his fender.
He switched off the engine and climbed out of the truck. Romeo jumped out after him, his nose leading him straight to Sylvie.
“Gorgeous dog.” She bent down to run her hand over Romeo’s head.
“Thanks.” He couldn’t peel his eyes away from the house. His house.
Someone else might see crumbling and decay, but to him it was beautiful. Everything he’d hoped for.
Sylvie straightened up from patting Rom. “What do you think?”
He tore his gaze away from the house and looked at her. At her clear blue eyes and silken, blond curls. A woman like her, she’d have a husband or a boyfriend who kept her busy. He wasn’t interested in distractions, and Sylvie, if she were free, which she probably wasn’t, could become a major distraction if he let her. He was here to work on his house. Maybe make a couple of friends. That’s all.
Her forehead furrowed. “It’s pretty run-down. Probably too much work to fix up. Although my other brother, Cal, says the house has a solid foundation and framework.”
She’d said that last bit almost grudgingly. “I think I remember Dusty, but not you or another brother. How many siblings do you have?”
“Just the two brothers.”
“Do they live here with you?”
“Cal and Anita have a house on the hill, and Dusty bought his own house just a few weeks ago.”
“So, it’s you and your dad.” As anxious as he was to go inside and explore, he wanted to know who lived beside him. Where he’d grown up, being aware of his neighbors had saved his hide several times.
“Just me at the moment.” She folded her arms and tucked her chin into her chest, frown lines creasing her forehead.
Before he could wonder why that ticked her off, she gave him a sour smile. “I have to get going. Enjoy your...house.”
A vague feeling of distress settled around him as he watched her scoot over to her house and slam the door shut. Why did he get the feeling she was slamming the door on him?
Hell, he’d only been in town half an hour and already there could be complications. Fitting in and being accepted was going to be more difficult than he’d imagined. Maybe he’d made a mistake; Collina was too small. People would want to know where he came from, who his folks were.
But he’d been running from the day he’d been born, and it was time to stop.
One thing he knew for certain. He’d keep his distance from Sylvie Carson. He hoped to ease his way into the community, get to know a few folk before the questions started in earnest. After watching Sylvie’s dad fuss about the light burn on his daughter’s hand and her driving home in the dark, he had no intention of riling up papa bear. Not that Sylvie seemed the least bit interested in him. The exact opposite, as a matter of fact. But still, he’d be smart to stay on his side of the fence.
He dragged his attention back to where it belonged—his new home. His future. His hand shaking, he stuck the key into the keyhole and turned the lock.