Page 12 of Lovingly Restored

“During suspected home invasions? Yes.”

I didn’t mean to startle her. If I’m so worried about her feelings, I guess I could have messaged her like she’d evidently wanted me to. Instead, I’d called a tow truck.

Smooth.

“Sorry I snuck up on you. I wasn’t aware that my dad hired a maid.”

She narrows her eyes in confusion, “Amaid?”

“Er, housekeeper?” I try again.

What’s politically correct these days?

“I’m anurse.An LPN. Matt—your father, I suppose—he hired me to take care of your grandmother.”

“Oh.”

I swear she told me she did something else for a living. I can’t quite recall. That night was so weird. She tips her jaw up, and it reminds me more of the version of her that marched toward me and jabbed her finger into my chest.

“Your grandmother is in her room. If you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

Did she just…dismiss me?

She walks to the fridge and runs her hand down some sort of large calendar I’ve never seen before, pulling a pen out of the apron and making notes. Just when I think she’s done talking to me, she turns her head and tilts it inquisitively.

“Why do you have a bag?” She nods towards the canvas duffel still hanging from my shoulder.

“I’m, uh, staying here for a while.”

She laughs. The clear, feminine laugh I’ve been thinking of for weeks. This time I’m not laughing with her.

“Well, that’s the plan. I’ve got it all worked out with Mummo.”

That’s a lie.

“Mummo?”

“My grandfather was born in Finland.” I point at the ceramics above the kitchen cupboards painted with the white and blue crosses of the Finnish flag. “My grandmother is first generation Canadian, born to Finnish parents, and met my grandfather here.”

“Of course. I thought I heard a light accent. That’s a cute name.” A soft smile plays on her lips but fades quickly. “He didn’t tell me anything about that arrangement,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest with finality.

I plaster a puzzled expression on my face. “Really? That’s soweird.“ The lies keep rolling off my tongue. “What does it matter? You’re here, what, a couple hours a day?”

Lines appear between her eyebrows. “This is a live-in position.”

Live. In. Position.

I’m still clutching the stupid steel scrubber in my hand. I toss it across the room into the sink and wipe my wet hand against my dark jeans.

“Living here?” I clarify, as if she didn’t just say that.

“That’s right.” Her fists take up residence on the waist of that snugly tied apron.

I don’t have other options. My condo is gone, and if I try to have my dad alter her position, that will only cause more problems between he and I. I’ll tell him about all this soon. Above all else, I need my grandfather’s workshop. That’s why this move makes so much sense. I need time to get my business up and running without my dad’s judgement. The circle of people I’ll be letting in on my plans is going to be real small. More of a dot than a ring.

I push my hair out of my eyes. “Guess we’re gonna be roommates.”

“No.” She shakes her head emphatically, braid swinging. “That won’t work.”

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