velvet fainting couch. Also behind the couch were a dozen unopened bags of bird seed and a foot-high stack of mail. Addie was notorious for stashing things away, like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter. And, like a squirrel, she often forgot where she had buried her booty. She never forgot her bird seed, however. She only forgot that she didn’t have a bird.
Bryan wondered what her frame of mind would be this morning. He hoped for Rachel’s sake Addie would be in one of her more normal periods. The two of them had a lot to talk over, a lot to settle between them, and not much time to do it. That was the one sure thing about Addie’s illness: it would progress. There would be no remission, no reprieve. What needed settling between mother and daughter needed settling as soon as possible.
“Not that I’m getting involved,” Bryan mumbled as he opened a wire cage and scraped the seed out of the little dish and into the coffee can. “I’m just here minding my own business, doing my little job.”
To distract himself from the inner voice that was trying to tell him differently, he began to sing softly to himself. “I got a ghoul in Kalamazoo—”
“Mr. Hennessy.” Rachel paused in the doorway of the parlor, ready to launch into her tirade, but the sight of Bryan brought her up short. He was crouched over a little bamboo bird cage—Just one of dozens of bird cages in the room—digging bird seed out of the tiny dish with one large finger.
“Addie gets upset if Lester doesn’t eat,” Bryan explained, his expression serious.
Rachel’s heart turned over in her breast. Not many men of her acquaintance would have catered to an old lady the way this one did. But then, he was getting paid for it, she reminded herself, steeling her resolve.
She marched across the room and thrust the bedraggled flower in his face. “Would you care to explain the meaning of this?”
Bryan rose slowly to his full height wincing absently at his stiff muscles. His gaze moved from the flower to Rachel and back again. He took a deep breath, pondering. His eyebrows rose and fell, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose.
“It’s a rose,” he said finally.
“I know it’s a rose,” Rachel said irritably. “Would you care to explain why I found it on my pillow this morning?”
She was staring up at him with fire in her violet eyes, as if finding a rose on her pillow were some horrible affront to her sensibilities. Bryan couldn’t stop the soft, thick warmth that filled his chest. She was lovely. There was no denying that. She had to have just combed her honey-colored hair back and arranged it at the nape of her neck, but already wisps had pulled loose to curl around her face. She was no doubt trying her darnedest to look indignant, but her features were too soft and angelic for her to quite pull it off.
“Mr. Hennessy,” she repeated, her tone clipped. It was the tone of an irate schoolteacher. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”
Bryan sighed a bit, dragging his gaze off the lush, kissable curve of her lower lip. He gave her a bright smile. “Is this a riddle? I do like a good riddle.”
“It’s an infringement on my privacy, and I don’t like it at all,” Rachel said, thumping the bedraggled flower against his chest. “I know I was sleeping in what is technically your room, but that doesn’t give you the right to just walk in—”
“I wasn’t in your room.”
“Then how did this get on my pillow?” she asked, shaking the flower for emphasis. Yellow petals floated to the floor.
Bryan’s broad shoulders rose. Behind his spectacles his blue eyes sparkled. He smiled his most engaging smile. “Magic?”
Rachel frowned in disapproval. “I don’t believe in magic, Mr. Hennessy.”
“My name is Bryan,” he corrected her soberly as he lifted the flower from her small fingers. “Everyone should believe in magic, Rachel,” he said. He held her gaze with his as he performed a little sleight of hand,
Bryan wondered what her frame of mind would be this morning. He hoped for Rachel’s sake Addie would be in one of her more normal periods. The two of them had a lot to talk over, a lot to settle between them, and not much time to do it. That was the one sure thing about Addie’s illness: it would progress. There would be no remission, no reprieve. What needed settling between mother and daughter needed settling as soon as possible.
“Not that I’m getting involved,” Bryan mumbled as he opened a wire cage and scraped the seed out of the little dish and into the coffee can. “I’m just here minding my own business, doing my little job.”
To distract himself from the inner voice that was trying to tell him differently, he began to sing softly to himself. “I got a ghoul in Kalamazoo—”
“Mr. Hennessy.” Rachel paused in the doorway of the parlor, ready to launch into her tirade, but the sight of Bryan brought her up short. He was crouched over a little bamboo bird cage—Just one of dozens of bird cages in the room—digging bird seed out of the tiny dish with one large finger.
“Addie gets upset if Lester doesn’t eat,” Bryan explained, his expression serious.
Rachel’s heart turned over in her breast. Not many men of her acquaintance would have catered to an old lady the way this one did. But then, he was getting paid for it, she reminded herself, steeling her resolve.
She marched across the room and thrust the bedraggled flower in his face. “Would you care to explain the meaning of this?”
Bryan rose slowly to his full height wincing absently at his stiff muscles. His gaze moved from the flower to Rachel and back again. He took a deep breath, pondering. His eyebrows rose and fell, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose.
“It’s a rose,” he said finally.
“I know it’s a rose,” Rachel said irritably. “Would you care to explain why I found it on my pillow this morning?”
She was staring up at him with fire in her violet eyes, as if finding a rose on her pillow were some horrible affront to her sensibilities. Bryan couldn’t stop the soft, thick warmth that filled his chest. She was lovely. There was no denying that. She had to have just combed her honey-colored hair back and arranged it at the nape of her neck, but already wisps had pulled loose to curl around her face. She was no doubt trying her darnedest to look indignant, but her features were too soft and angelic for her to quite pull it off.
“Mr. Hennessy,” she repeated, her tone clipped. It was the tone of an irate schoolteacher. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”
Bryan sighed a bit, dragging his gaze off the lush, kissable curve of her lower lip. He gave her a bright smile. “Is this a riddle? I do like a good riddle.”
“It’s an infringement on my privacy, and I don’t like it at all,” Rachel said, thumping the bedraggled flower against his chest. “I know I was sleeping in what is technically your room, but that doesn’t give you the right to just walk in—”
“I wasn’t in your room.”
“Then how did this get on my pillow?” she asked, shaking the flower for emphasis. Yellow petals floated to the floor.
Bryan’s broad shoulders rose. Behind his spectacles his blue eyes sparkled. He smiled his most engaging smile. “Magic?”
Rachel frowned in disapproval. “I don’t believe in magic, Mr. Hennessy.”
“My name is Bryan,” he corrected her soberly as he lifted the flower from her small fingers. “Everyone should believe in magic, Rachel,” he said. He held her gaze with his as he performed a little sleight of hand,
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