Page 2 of Kissing the Sheriff

“I did. It’s …” she shrugged. “Pretty. Light.” She sighed. “Airy.”

“Then tell me, dear woman. Would you like that for yourself?” He went to the fireplace mantle and ran his finger across the surface. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

Cassie fought the urge to roll her eyes again. “I haven’t gotten around to dusting.”

“Obviously.” He went to a chair and gave it a pat. A small cloud of dust rose.

“That was my father’s chair.”

“And well used, I see.” Conrad smiled warmly. “You must miss him terribly.”

She swallowed hard. “You have no idea.”

“After getting to know Letty, I have some.” He continued to examine the room.

“Do you plan on fixing just the parlor?” she asked.

He ran a finger across a low table. “I’d like to see the whole house if you don’t mind. That will give me a good idea of how much time this will take. Poor Phileas is itching to start on the hotel, but I dare say you need more help.”

She groaned. “It’s not that bad.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, then headed for the dining room. Her house was much like Letty’s, only it had a second story – just a landing and one room. She followed him into the dining room. “Well?”

He looked around, fingered the curtains, then sighed. “Poor Phileas.”

This time she did roll her eyes. “If it’s too much work, then don’t bother.” She looked around the room. It was full of little knickknacks, but otherwise was as dreary as the parlor. “Well, I suppose a little sprucing up wouldn’t hurt. Do you want to see the kitchen and the bedrooms?”

Conrad headed toward the kitchen without a word – until he entered it. “Great Scott!”

She hurried after him. “What is it now?”

He went straight to the hutch. “Dear woman, this is about to fall apart. Where are the cupboard doors?”

“The hinges broke about a year ago. Pa never got around to fixing them.”

Conrad scribbled more on his little writing pad. “What a sorry state of affairs this is.” He went into her larder. “Gad!” He returned to the kitchen and scribbled some more.

She closed her eyes. “There’s a bedroom upstairs and one over there.” She nodded at her father’s old room.

Conrad entered it and looked at her sewing basket, a stack of folded fabric, and a few skeins of lace she’d brought down from her usual sewing spot on the upstairs landing. “I see you’re making this into a sewing room of sorts. Are you planning on keeping the bed?”

Cassie stood in the doorway. “I might have a guest one day, who knows?”

He turned to her with a sympathetic look. “Have you any other relatives?”

She shook her head as her heart pinched. “It was just Pa and me.”

“Much like poor Letty.” He wrote something else down, then smiled at her. “Upstairs?”

“This way.” She left the bedroom, went back to the parlor and opened a door. “Up there.”

Conrad looked at the narrow staircase. “Oh, dear.” He started up.

Cassie followed. “I use the room up here.”

He reached the landing and noted her rocking chair and sewing machine. “This could be cozy.” He went into the bedroom. “Oh, this isn’t bad. But wouldn’t you rather have your bedroom on the first floor?”

“I felt like this was my half of the house. The rest was always my parents’.”