Page 52 of In the Air Tonight

“My best friend from high school gets the credit for decorating. She’s a professional interior designer. Gave me a great deal.”

“She did a nice job.”

The navy-blue patterned quilt on the bed matches the navy sofa.

I turn back to him and startle when I realized he’s followed me into the small space.

“Easy.” He holds up his hands. “Nothing to worry about here.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What do you think?”

“I’ll take it.”

Jack peels a key off his ring and hands it to me. “Make yourself at home. I’m right across the yard in the big house if you need anything. Do you know the area?”

“I’m from Hope but didn’t spend much time over here back in the day.”

He tells me where the grocery store is and mentions a fun, new coffee and garden shop at the Monroe four corners.

“Thank you very much. I’ll pay you in the morning for this week if that’s okay.”

“Sounds good. Let me give you my number in case you have questions.”

As he recites the number, I punch it into my phone.

“Text me so I have yours.”

After I send the text, he heads out through the door he left open when he followed me in. Something about that feels reassuring, as if he knew I wouldn’t want to be enclosed in that small space with a man I only just met. I’ve been called aloof, cold and distant by men who were offended by my need to feel safe. They say I take it too far.

I know better than most people that you can never take such things too far.

Jack has earned hard-to-get points with me for the small gesture of leaving a door open. “You can drive around the house if you take a right off the driveway,” he says over his shoulder.

“It’ll be a left on the way in.”

“Good to know. Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

I wonder if he lives alone or if there’s a Mrs. Jack.

What does it matter? I’m here only until Houston has a chance to figure out the next steps. I’ll be back in New York in a matter of days.

My phone rings with a call from Wendall that I take only because I need to tell him I’m taking some time off.

“Damn it, Blaise, where the hell are you?”

“Rhode Island.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since my mother called about a family emergency. I was going to text you later.”

It would be just like him to tell me that’s no excuse for missing work. Luckily for him, he doesn’t say that. “What am I supposed to do without you?” I can picture the pout that goes with the words.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine for a few days. I’ll send you the schedule for tomorrow shortly.”

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