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I stepped forward, unwilling to believe she was even considering. She glared at me and I froze. ” His voice was a low bedroom purr. Her mouth twisted as she considered. Then she stood in one graceful movement, taking the check with her. ” “Of course,” he said with a gracious wave of his hand, as if it were his house, not hers. ” I know my mouth dropped open because I felt it snap shut again when she took my arm and dragged me out of the room and across the hall to our shared office in what used to be the dining room.
His final salvo was delivered in a tone of disgust—the effect slightly marred by his voice cracking. I stood, poised to chase after him, but then stopped. I’d drawn the line and had to respect that—otherwise he never would. “Boy’s as stubborn as his mother,” Flora said. “Best let him come to his senses on his own. ” I hated to admit it, but she was right. As usual. FIVE Packing wasn’t easy. For our last two cases, I didn’t need to travel or worry about impressing anyone, so my usual outfit of boots, jeans, and T-shirt had been fine.
Seriously. After my big brother, Randy, died, my mom’s already obsessive tendencies turned to hoarding in a desperate effort to preserve Randy’s memory. From the outside it looks like a normal house. White siding, Cape Cod, two stories, gables, shutters hanging a little crooked, paint a bit faded. Walk inside the front door and if the doors to the other rooms are closed—which they always are—everything still seems normal. Maybe even a bit Spartan with Randy’s black-rimmed photo the only personal item in the foyer.