When Adam Came to Town. Kate Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ his age stepped up to the counter. He was an inch or two shorter than Adam and solid through the chest and upper arms. He had the same blond curls as his sister, but his eyes were a darker blue, edged with creases, like he spent a lot of time squinting into the sun. Adam thought he might remember the guy from the few times he’d visited his grandmother as a child.

      The man turned to him. “That your dog in the half-ton?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Beautiful animal. Oh, thanks, Syl.” He grabbed a cup of coffee from his sister. “I never saw a shepherd with that much white in it. Is it a mix?”

      “Haven’t the faintest. I’m thinking part wolf.”

      “Must make a great attack dog.”

      “The only thing I’ve seen Romeo attack are bumblebees.”

      “Romeo?” The guy laughed. “What kind of name is that for a dog?”

      Adam cracked a grin. “He’s a lover, not a fighter. He’s got a deep bark, though.” He turned to Sylvie. “I’ll keep him in at night so he won’t wake you up.”

      The brother’s smile dried up as he looked from his sister to him. “What’s going on?”

      “Meet my nosy brother, Dusty Carson. This is the...guy who bought the old Johnson place. Adam Hunter.”

      Out of the corner of his eye he saw her smother a smile. Not only tarnished, but sassy, as well. Nice. He didn’t like the way she’d hesitated, though, like there was a better way to describe him. Idiot? Rube? Take your pick. Adam stuck out his hand to shake Dusty’s.

      “Actually, I inherited the house from my grandmother.”

      After an eternity, the angel’s brother shook his hand. “I think I remember you. You came once or twice when your grandmother was up from the States. You’ve got Ontario license plates.”

      “I’m from Toronto.”

      Dusty studied him over the rim of his coffee cup. “You plan on holding on to the house or selling it?”

      “I’m hoping to fix it up so I can spend the winter. Install some windows, probably put on a new roof.”

      An older man barreled through the kitchen doors, wiping his hands on a towel. “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 СКАЧАТЬ