Sam took me home. I told him he didn’t have to, but it was nearly two in the morning and he insisted. I have to admit his protective presence made me feel better.
“Listen,” he said, as we drove, “I have some tickets to the Savoy. Actually, I got ‘em for a friend of mine, for him and his wife, but now he says they can’t go. I just wondered, you know, whether, uh …”
“When?” Where was that promise I’d made myself earlier?
“Tonight.”
Talk about short notice.
“Well?” he asked.
“Okay.”
“Swell.” His smile was nice to see. “Show’s at eight. I’ll pick you up at half-past seven?”
I gave a little nod.
Still smiling, he pulled up to my house. I wanted to smile, too, but seeing my house again gave me the willies.
Sam escorted me up the stairs, ready to say good-bye at my front door, but then he saw how I fumbled with my keys. He gave me a curious look and said, “Let me.” I handed him the keys and pointed out which two opened the outer and inner doors. He unlocked both easily and handed me my keys. “You sleep tight, now. I’ll see y—”
“Want to come in for a moment?”
He blinked, obviously puzzled and surprised. “Okay.”
“Go on in.”
He gave me another uncertain glance, then stepped inside and flicked on the vestibule light.
“Wow,” he said, looking around. “This is lovely.” He turned to see me hesitating on the threshold. “Are you all right?”
The stairway I’d so loved now appeared to be menacing. Esther’s kidnapper had climbed those stairs and waited for me. He’d broken into my home, my sanctuary. Had he gone through the house, touched my belongings? A shiver ran through me. Would I ever feel safe here again?
“Lanie?”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
I forced myself to step inside. My skin prickled with fear. Everything looked calm and clear, but that’s how it had looked before.
The locks would have to be changed.
It struck me that whoever broke in had done an excellent job of picking the lock. I hadn’t noticed any scratches or damage. When I’d slipped in the key, I’d felt no misalignment that might’ve tipped me off and Sam hadn’t noticed anything either. Thinking about it, I nearly turned back to double-check it, but caught myself.
Sam was watching.
I put on a bright smile. “Thanks for bringing me home.”
“No problem.”
He flashed a smile too, but his eyes said he suspected that something was wrong. “Lanie, are you all right?”
“Yeah, everything’s jake. Would you like a cup of tea or hot chocolate?” I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in the house, not then.
He shook his head and I felt disappointed.
“But I’d appreciate a glass of water.”
“Okay,” I said with relief.
I showed him in to the parlor.
“No Christmas tree?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He gave the parlor an admiring look. “It’s nice, though. Real nice. You and your husband, you bought it together?”
I nodded.
“Could I use your bathroom?”
“It’s downstairs in the back. Follow me.” I led the way and showed him to the bathroom door. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
I went to get a glass from the leaning cabinet. My gaze touched Hamp’s open leather tool kit.
“I’ll fix it for you, hon. Make a start tonight.”
“Not tonight, Hamp. It’s late and I don’t want noise and a whole lot of mess.”
“I’m not going to be making a lot of noise. And I sure won’t be making no mess. You worried about a mess? You just put a whole lot of glasses or china in there and watch it all fall out.”
“Lanie?”
I jumped at the sound of Sam’s voice and turned to find him standing in the doorway. Seeing him there was a shock. He was the first man to enter my kitchen in years.
“You sure you’re all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Why?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. You just had this faraway look in your eyes. Daydreaming?”
I took the glass down, closed the cabinet door. “Sort of.” Then I went to the sink, turned on the cold water to let it run. He came and stood next to me. For several seconds, he studied my profile, then his gaze shifted to the cabinet.
“What happened there? Looks like it’s going to fall down any minute.”
“It was like that when we bought the house.”
He gestured toward Hamp’s tool kit. “Nice set. You got somebody fixing the cabinet for you?”
“I’m going to fix it myself. The tools were my husband’s. He started to fix the cabinet, but he, uh …” My throat tightened. “He went out to buy some nails and he …”
“That’s when he had the heart attack?”
I nodded, holding his glass under the faucet.
“Out on the street?” Sam asked.
I handed him the glass. “People thought he was drunk. They stepped right over him.” There’d been a bruise on his stomach. Someone had even kicked him.
Sam touched me on the elbow. His fingertips were warm and their light touch incredibly intimate. I could feel part of me waking to him, a part that had been asleep for a long time, three years to be exact.
He walked over to the tilted cabinet and eyed it. I picked up his glass and followed him. He accepted his drink, thanked me and took a sip. He nodded at the cabinet.
“Do you mind?”
I shook my head.
He opened the cabinet door, looked at the shelves, then closed it and peered at the cabinet from the side, studying the loose nails.
“One of these days, this thing’s going to come crashing down. Those nails don’t look like they’ve got another week in them.”
“They’ve been like that for three years. More, actually.”
He raised an eyebrow, not wanting to argue. He was right, but I didn’t want to agree with him. His glance fell on the tools and he reached for them. Without thinking, I stuck my hand out, covering them. It was rude and childish, and at his expression, I felt ashamed.
“Sorry.”
“No, no. It’s okay,” he said. “I should’ve known better.”
But I felt terrible at the look in his eyes.
He took a step back. “If you want, I could fix the cabinet for you. Build you some more.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem. I’m good with my hands.” He paused a beat. “And I’d bring my own tools.”
I averted my eyes and shook my head, no.
“All right, Lanie.” He sounded tired. He went back to the sink and set his glass down. “Good night.” He started out, up the stairs to the parlor floor.
I ran after him. “Sam!”
He continued up the stairs and went to the front door, where he paused with a hand on the doorknob.
“Please, don’t be angry,” I said.
He gave me one of his gentle smiles. “I’m not. It would take more than that to anger me.” He cupped my chin. “Now you take care. And lock up. I’ll see you in the morning.” He kissed me lightly on the lips and was gone.
For several long seconds, I stood in the doorway, watching his car drive away. Finally, I closed the door and turned to face the house.
It had never seemed so empty. Not since the night Hamp died.
Once more, my gaze traveled up the stairway. I wouldn’t go up there. Not that night.
That night, I would sleep on the sofa.