Page 16 of A Christmas Mystery

I breathe heavily as I look up at him, trying to figure out whether he thinks I’m wrong to move on from Chris. “Just because you might want to close yourself down now doesn’t mean it’s the proper response or that I’ll necessarily feel the same way.”

“I wasn’t saying—”

“I get that it might be hard for you. To see me with someone else. That it might feel like a betrayal of Chris to you or something. But I... I can’t make my life an empty monument to what he should have been.”

“I’m not saying or implying that you should.” He sounds gruff now. He’s probably annoyed by my defensiveness. “So there is someone you’re interested in?”

“No,” I admit. “But there might be. One day. I know you’ve never liked me and you might not want to see it, but Chris wouldn’t want me to spend the rest of my life alone.”

“I know he wouldn’t.” He’s gruffer than ever, the words coming out with a low rumble in his throat. He jerks his head to the side, looking away from me. “I know that.”

I feel like I want to cry and like I want to jump out of my skin at the same time. I haven’t felt this way—so pulled to the edge emotionally—in a really long time, and it’s both scary and weirdly exciting.

The fear takes precedence. I rub my face and give myself a shake, like I might be able to physically shed the intense emotions. “Anyway, I don’t know why we’re even talking about this.” I honestly can’t remember if he brought it up or I did. “You really don’t have to walk me back and help with my pen pal investigation just because Tee pushed you into it.”

“I don’t mind. You’ve got me kind of interested in it too now.”

I shrug. Evidently it’s too much to hope for that he’d step back into the shadows of my life just because it would make me more comfortable.

“Plus maybe you could do a favor for me in return.”

I narrow my eyes. “I never asked you for help with this, but you’re expecting me to do something for you in return.”

“It seems like the polite thing to do.” His mouth is twitching slightly again in that way I saw earlier. The way that makes me want to smile.

“It seems like the obnoxious thing to do,” I mutter. Then, mostly out of curiosity, I add, “What did you want in return?”

“Chris’s folks gave me a couple of boxes of his old stuff when they were clearing out their house to sell. I’ve kept them in one of my closets without even opening them, but it feels like I should do something with the stuff. You want to help me go through it sometime?”

I don’t need to ask why his parents didn’t give the stuff to me. They never liked or approved of me. They’d been hoping Chris would choose the daughter of one of Green Valley’s wealthier families to marry so they could tie their family to a fortune.

And they were furious Chris changed his will and life insurance beneficiary to me as soon as we got engaged.

Of course they wouldn’t give me any of Chris’s belongings even if they were simply hoping to get rid of them.

“Yeah,” I tell Theo. “I’ll help you go through them.”

“You want to do it soon or wait until after the holidays?”

I take a breath and come to my answer quickly. “Let’s do it right away, if you don’t mind. I’d like to get the hard stuff done before Christmas.”

“You got it. Why don’t you come over to my place this afternoon? We can get it done today.”

***

SO LATER THAT DAY,at just after three thirty, I show up at Theo’s apartment building.

He has to buzz me in the main door, and I walk upstairs to his unit on the second floor. His place is a nice-enough one bedroom in a fairly new complex. It’s nothing fancy or luxurious, but it’s got a small, updated kitchen and a decent-size balcony.

His furnishings are good quality but minimal—a leather couch, one upholstered chair, a side table, a large television on the wall, and a desk in the main room since there are no available rooms for a home office. Every available surface is covered with stacks of books.

When I’ve scanned the place, Theo lifts his eyebrows at me. “Well? What’s your verdict?”

“It’s got potential, but you really need some art on the walls and a couple of area rugs. Did you just move in? How long have you lived here?”

“A year and a half,” he admits dryly.

I choke on a laugh. “What’s your grudge against colors? Everything is brown.”

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