The Memory House. Linda Goodnight

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СКАЧАТЬ up on the road. Mr. Oliver gave him a jump.”

      “I’ll give him a jump.” Valery pumped her eyebrows.

      Julia snorted and swatted her sister’s arm. “I thought you and Jed were back together.”

      “We are. I’m kidding, but I ain’t dead like some women I know.”

      Julia ignored the pointed comment. “I’m going down to see what he wants.”

      “You’re not leaving me behind. I might be taken, but I like to look. And you could use a man in your life.” She poked a finger at Julia’s chest. “Maybe he fell madly in love the moment he laid eyes on you. Maybe that’s why he’s back.”

      Julia hit her sister with the pile of dirty linen. “Hush.”

      Valery laughed, stopped at the mirror for a quick fluff and then followed Julia down the stairs.

      Eli Donovan stood at the back entrance, holding a mug imprinted with the logo of Peach Orchard Inn.

      “Ma’am,” he said when Julia opened the screen.

      Valery swept to her side. “She’s Julia Presley. I’m Valery Griffin, her sister. And you are?”

      Eli looked as if he wasn’t quite sure what to make of the vibrant, gregarious brunette who talked a little too fast. “Eli. I brought back your mug.”

      Julia took the cup from him. “Thank you.”

      “The coffee was good.”

      “Would you like more?” Valery pounced on him like a cat on a grasshopper. She pushed the door wider. “Come on in. Coffee is always fresh and available for our guests’ pleasure.”

      Oh, great. Julia fought not to roll her eyes and groan.

      Eli glanced her way, and she could have sworn she saw amusement in his leaf-green gaze. Seeing the humor, too, she smiled. “Might as well come in, Eli. My sister is a steamroller. She seldom takes no for an answer.”

      * * *

      Eli followed the two sisters through the immaculate copper-and-cream kitchen into a breakfast room with cranberry-red walls, white trim and a wall of sparkling windows. Six square tables were set with white linen and napkins in the same deep red as the walls. He noticed the scent again, as he had this morning. Subtle. A waft of fresh bread and clean air. A far cry from the rancid human odors of his past seven years.

      He felt out of place, miserably so, but he was here and he was going to do this no matter the result. A man looking to start over had to start somewhere.

      “Pretty,” he said, surprising himself.

      The woman named Valery beamed. She was a looker, long, wavy dark hair and lots of curves, with a vivacious personality that promised a good time. But it was the quieter Julia who drew his interest. Dressed in casual beige slacks and white buttoned blouse, she had a calming way about her. Like this house. Serene. That was the word. He hadn’t used serene in a long time.

      “I thought I’d lost this cup forever,” she said.

      “I almost forgot about it.”

      “Have you had breakfast? I know it’s closer to noon, but brunch perhaps? There’s still some casserole left.”

      “I’m okay.” He wondered if she always tried to feed people or if he simply looked pathetic.

      “You’ll have something, Eli,” Valery said. “Julia is a fabulous cook. Maybe her muffins or some peach tea?”

      “I heard about that tea.”

      “Really? Where?”

      “A police officer in town.”

      Julia’s blue eyes rounded. “Don’t tell me you got a ticket?”

      “No, nothing like that.” Man, she was pretty, her voice as smooth and Southern as a praline sundae. Classy and cool. Like his mother’s. A dull ache tugged behind his breastbone. He averted his gaze, found the view outside the windows.

      “Was it Trey Riley?” Valery asked, coming in from the kitchen with a plate of food that made his mouth water. “He’s the cutest thing.”

      “That was his name. Nice guy.”

      “Sweet as pie. Here you go. Julia’s ham-and-egg strata. Julia, get him some peach tea.” She winked. “If you hate it, I’ll make fresh coffee.”

      “Nobody hates my peach tea,” Julia called from inside the giant stainless-steel refrigerator.

      Feeling like the beggar he was but hungry enough not to care, Eli dredged up the dry bones of his mother’s manners. “Would you care to join me?”

      “Sure.” Valery plopped down across from him and propped her chin on her hand. “Julia, bring me some tea, too, and maybe a muffin.”

      “Are your legs broken?”

      Eli smiled at his fork. Valery laughed but flounced up to serve herself. “Sassy wench.”

      In seconds, both women were back. Valery had joined him at the table while Julia stood a little apart next to the gleaming windows sipping a glass of peach tea. He wished she’d sit down, too, but instantly retracted the wish. She had no business sitting anywhere near him.

      Eli sipped at his drink. Cold, sweet and fruity. Three peach slices floated with the ice cubes. “Terrific. Thank you. The casserole is good, too.”

      He’d said thank-you more times today than he had in years. He was pretty sure he’d wake up in a minute back in his cell.

      “I assume you got your car running again.”

      “Thanks to Mr. Oliver.” He reached into his shirt pocket. “Is he around? He left this wrench.”

      “He and his wife went into town for a while, but I can give him the tool when he returns.”

      Eli handed it over. He wasn’t a thief and didn’t want anyone thinking he was. Didn’t need the grief and he sure wasn’t going back to prison. Especially now when his boy needed a dad. “Tell him I won’t forget his kindness.”

      “I’ll do that.”

      “Yours, either.”

      She only smiled, but the soft look was encouragement enough to give him an opening. He’d rehearsed his speech, his arguments and ideas all the way from the park. He’d even stopped at the In and Out Quick Stop to splash water on his face and comb his hair, a shaggy bunch of waves that needed a barber’s hand. He knew how he looked, like a homeless street bum, a description, no matter how shaming, that wasn’t far from the truth. His idea of home was his Dodge and, when money allowed, a room in a rent-by-the-week roach motel. Haircuts and soft beds would have to wait.

      What was he doing here? What made him think he could do this? He was broke and homeless. Just because a little boy had his DNA didn’t make him a father.

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