Page 63 of The Woman By the Lake

“No. It’s just that you’re a good guy. And you should be happy like Aunt Kate is happy.”

“I am happy,” Riggs asserted.

“Not like Aunt Kate is happy.”

He wasn’t going to explain how he took care of that particular happy in his way to his nine-year-old son.

Instead, he said, “How about you let me do my job as your dad and look after you, rather than the other way around.”

“Just sayin’, while she’s here, make sure she makes us Brenda’s tacos.”

Riggs shot him a smile. “I can do that.”

Ledger reached for the book on his nightstand.

Riggs took his cue, mussed his son’s hair then strode out.

When he hit the bottom of the stairs, he heard, “I’m in here,” coming from the dining room.

So he rounded the stairwell and saw Nadia standing at the dining room window, looking out.

The rain was gone, but the clouds remained, and dusk was settling in.

She had her arms crossed on her chest, beer bottle still in hand, and he should keep his distance.

But he didn’t.

He was a demonstrative, affectionate kind of guy with people he cared about, primarily women, though that wasn’t why he walked to her, got behind her and rounded her chest with his arms.

It was because she undoubtedly needed a hug.

And because he couldn’t stop himself.

She didn’t get stiff or pull away.

She settled into his chest.

“He good?” she asked.

“Yeah. He likes you.”

“Good,” she murmured. Then, “I hesitate to ask, but have you heard anything about your friend?”

He had.

“Swelling going down, but other than that, no change. They still have him induced and the prognosis is still guarded.”

She twisted her neck to catch his eye and whispered, “Sorry, Riggs.”

He gave her a squeeze.

She looked back to the lake, and so did he.

“I wasn’t snooping,” she told him. “But I saw your house from the opposite side of the lake during my walk, particularly this room, and I was curious. It’s amazing. The view from here is spectacular. And I don’t know where you found that table, but it’s perfection.”

“I made it.”

Her head twisted again, this time faster. “You made it? You made that table?”

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