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Liam Knightly reached out and took my hand.
My first instinct was to yank it back, but I didn’t want to be rude, and he’d been so nice about the tea. Besides, he had a nice hand. Big, warm, callused. His gentle, careful grip made my own hand tingle.
“I lost my mother six years ago,” he offered. “I couldn’t breathe for weeks afterward.”
“Oh. So, um. You know,” I mumbled. “How it is.”
“Yes, I know.”
Tears blinded me again. He just sat there, sipping tea, clasping my hand. In my usual tense and anxious state, any kind of silence felt like dangerous emptiness that needed to be filled.
But Knightly’s silence was different. It made space for me. He didn’t seem embarrassed or put off by my little breakdown. He was in no hurry. He didn’t seem to be wondering how quickly he could get away from the whacked-out, grieving girl.
My hand felt good in his. Warm.
It occurred to me suddenly that this was the most intimacy I’d had—besides hugs from my sisters—since my last fiancé’s defection. And maybe a good long time before that, if I was honest. Maybe he was just being nice, but the patient way Liam Knightly held my hand, witnessing my tears without flinching, was more subtly erotic than anything I’d ever shared with Freedy. Or any of the others either, for that matter.
I mopped my eyes with a crumpled napkin, then felt a soft square of cloth tucked into my hand. A handkerchief, of all things. I looked at it, bemused. “Wow,” I said. “I didn’t know people still used these.”
“I’m old-fashioned,” he said. “My father liked them. It’s an artifact from a bygone age. One I happen to like.”
I dabbed my eyes with the crisply ironed cotton, wishing I looked prettier, and feeling stupid and childish for wishing it.
He squeezed my hand gently. “I don’t mean to touch anything painful, but could you tell me what actually happened to Lucia?”
The question jolted me out of my self-absorption. “Oh. Yeah. A thief broke into the house while she was here alone. The shock and fear must have provoked a heart attack.”
His mouth tightened. “That must have been so terrible for you.”
I nodded. “I was the one who found her, about two days later. I’d been calling her, but she hadn’t been answering. So I came to check on her. I was already scared for her.”
“Christ, that must’ve been hell.” His hand tightened. “Did he ...” He hesitated, clearly afraid to ask. “Had the burglar hurt her?”
“Not as far as they could tell,” I told him. “The chain on the door was broken. The TV, computer, and stereo were gone. And Lucia’s jewelry. Just a petty thief, I guess.” I tugged my hand away. “Let’s get back to practical matters, okay?”
His smile flickered. “Whenever you like. There’s no rush.”
“I imagine you’re losing money right and left as the clock ticks,” I said.
“Not really,” he said. “I’m self-employed. And I choose not to see my time in that way. There’s always time for a cup of tea and condolences for a lost friend.”
“Ah.” Well. Just call me brittle, shallow, and uptight then, why didn’t he. “Okay. Anyhow, I have no idea what kind of arrangement you made with Lucia, but?—”
“How about if I just tell you now?”
I retreated behind my tea mug. “Ah, okay.”
He pulled a square of folded paper out of his pocket, which proved to be a floor plan of Lucia’s ground floor. Several notes and edits had been made in Lucia’s distinctive, elegant script. It hurt to look at it.
“We chose this date to start the work,” he said. “She was going to make the changes to the ground floor that you see on that plan—build a new deck, put in teak flooring, redo both bathrooms and the kitchen, update the stairs, enlarge the upstairs closets, finish the attic, and add skylights in the upstairs bedrooms.”
“Ah ... wow.” I stared at the plan, bemused. “I am so sorry that it all went up in smoke. I imagine that will create big problems for your work schedule.”
He shook his head. “I’ll be fine. I have plenty of work, and for this job, I’d only hired one assistant. But I do have a truck full of building materials parked outside, and another full load in my barn back home—bought and paid for. That stuff’s not smoke.”
I was startled. “Bought already? Lucia bought it?”
“Yes. Forty-two thousand dollars and change.”