Page 6 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

Daddy had always been honest with her, and she’d accepted his words as truth. But ever since he’d told her about the house, about how he hadn’t done right by her mother, Aspen’s hope that she’d find her alive had grown. And hope didn’t disappoint, right? Wasn’t that what the Scriptures said?

She had a feeling she was interpreting that wrong.

Truth was, when she was thinking clearly, she couldn’t imagine a scenario in which she wasn’t disappointed by what she discovered. Nevertheless, she would stay on this journey until she learned the truth, however painful.

Her focus shifted from her missing mother to the house. Had her mother ever been there? She must have. Why else would Dad have bought the place? Mom hadn’t lived here, though, nor had her parents or Dad’s. Aspen had done the research and discovered where both her mother and father had lived in high school and the first couple of years of college, and it wasn’t here. After they married, they’d rented a house in town, but they hadn’t had much money. Dad had told her that much. Surely they couldn’t have afforded this.

What was their connection to the house?

It felt surreal being here. In a house sheowned. An actual house on actual snow-covered land. She’d figured the place would be falling down. Wouldn’t it have to be if her father’d had the money to purchase it—in cash?

It wasn’t, though, not even close.

Garrett crossed the scuffed and scratched hardwood floors and stopped beside an open door beneath the staircase. There was another door beside him, probably a coat closet.

“Needs some work.” Garrett said. “But the fireplace is in great shape. We need new paint on the walls, and I’d recommend painting that dark woodwork white or cream to brighten the place up. Obviously, the floors need to be refinished. You don’t want to replace them. They’re in great shape, and it’s hard to find genuine hardwood these days. Everybody’s putting in vinyl or laminate. These”—he tapped his booted foot on the floor—“are unique. Other than that, this room doesn’t need much.”

She pulled a notebook and pen from her purse and started jotting down everything he said. It felt so foreign, this contractor talking to her as if she had the right to be there, to make decisions about a house she’d never even seen before. Everything felt so… bizarre and out of control.

She just needed to make a list. Stay organized. She could do this as long as she didn’t let any detail slip away.

After she wrote down what he’d said, she looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time. She’d been so overwhelmed outside, she’d barely noticed the man who’d greeted her. Now she wasn’t sure how she’d managed that. He had short light brown hair that somehow was both messy and perfect, and he sported a neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were blue, his lips lifted in a slight smile. He wore jeans and a thin T-shirt as if it weren’t freezing outside—and inside, come to think of it.

She rubbed her upper arms with hands still in rather useless leather gloves. She needed to get a pair like he’d been wearing.

“You’re not cold, are you?” He sounded amused.

“It’s no better than outside.”

“Only about forty degrees warmer. I turned on the heat yesterday. It’s sixty-nine in here. Plenty warm.”

“Maybe if you’re an Eskimo. It’s a wonder we can’t see our breath.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and inviting. “Does it ever get cold in Hawaii?”

“Sure, in some places. It snows at the top of Mauna Kea. But I’ve only been up there once.”

“Too far away?”

“Too cold. Nothing’s too far on the Big Island.”

Another low chuckle. As if Aspen hadn’t been overwhelmed enough, now she had to deal with a gorgeous contractor with a voice that soothed and a smile that drew her in.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Truth be told, I set the thermostat for seventy-two, figuring you’d prefer it warmer, but the furnace is having trouble keeping up. We’ll need to talk about having it serviced. Meanwhile”—he nodded to the fireplace—“I took the liberty of bringing you some firewood. I recommend you buy a cord or at least a rick.”

“Cord? Rick? I assume these aren’t people?”

“Uh, no.” His expressive eyebrows lowered. She doubted if he had any idea how obvious his thoughts were. Right now she’d guess he was thinking,How dumb is this lady?

Might as well confirm his guess. “I’ve never started a fire in a fireplace.”

His eyes narrowed, almost as if he were suspicious. “Where do you usually start fires?”

“You know, on the beach or at campsites. Outdoors.”

“You like to camp?”

“Not in New Hampshire. You’d have to be out of your mind.”

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