Page 104 of A Soldier's Return

“So do I,” Anna assured her. “But Spencer Hotels has a reputation for taking great properties and making them even better. It will be interesting to watch.”

“If Stanley and Jade ultimately decide to sell. I don’t believe Eben has convinced them yet.”

“If what I’ve heard about him is halfway true, he will.” She paused and gave Sage a careful look as she handed her the cup of tea. “Was I crazy or did I pick up some kind of vibe between you two?”

Sage could feel herself flush and was grateful again for her Italian heritage. She could taste his mouth again on hers, feel the silky softness of his hair beneath her fingertips. “You have a much more vivid imagination than I ever gave you credit for.”

She immediately wished she could call the words back, but to her surprise, Anna only laughed. “Sorry. Not much imagination here, but I do pride myself on my keen powers of observation. Comes from reading too many mysteries, I think.”

“What did you see?” Sage asked warily.

“Wet handprints. They were all over his shirt. Unless the man has some kind of weird, acrobatic agility, I don’t believe he could put handprints on his own back. And since you were the only one in the apartment with him, I guess that leaves you. Not that it’s any of my business.”

Sage could feel herself flush and for the life of her, she couldn’t think how to respond.

“I hope this doesn’t offend you,” Anna went on, “but I have to tell you, he doesn’t seem like your usual type.”

“I wasn’t aware I had atype.”

“Of course you do. Everyone does.”

She told herself she was grateful the conversation had turned from handprints—or anything else she might have put on Eben. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s my type?”

Anna added at least three teaspoons of sugar to her own cup as she gave Sage a sidelong look. “I don’t know. Maybe some shaggy-haired, folk-singer guy who smells like patchouli and drives a hybrid with a Peace-Out bumper sticker on the back bumper.”

She was too tired to be offended, she decided. Besides, she had to admit it was a pretty accurate description of the guys she usually dated. She sipped at her tea and grinned a little, astonished to find a sense of humor in Anna Galvez—and more astonished to find herself enjoying their interaction.

“All right, Ms. Know-it-All. What’s your type, then?”

She was certain Anna’s smile slipped a bit. “Well, probably not shaggy-haired folk singers.”

Her evasion only made Sage more curious. She had never given much thought to Anna’s social life, though she thought she remembered something about a broken engagement in the last few years.

“Seriously, are you dating anybody? Since we’re living in the same house, it would be good to be prepared if I encounter some strange man on the stairway in the middle of the night.”

Anna sighed. “No. I’m currently on sabbatical from men.”

For some reason—probably because of her exhaustion—Sage found that hilarious. “Is there a stipend that goes with that?”

The other woman laughed and shook her head. “No, it’s all purely gratis. But the benefits to my mental health are enormous.”

No wonder Abigail had loved Anna. It was a surprising revelation in a day full of them, but by the time Sage finished her tea fifteen minutes later, all her misconceptions about Anna Galvez had flown out the window. The other woman wasn’t at all the stuffy, serious businesswoman she presented herself as most of the time, at least the way she had always presented herself to Sage.

Why the facade? Sage wondered. Why had she always acted so cool and polite to her? Was it only a protective response to some latent, unconscious hostility Sage might have been projecting? She didn’t want to think so, especially tonight when she was too tired for such deep introspection, but she had a feeling she may have been largely to blame for the awkwardness between them.

At least they had made this shaky beginning to building a friendship. They had a house and a dog and a life in common now. They should at least get a friendship out of the deal, too.

As the thought flickered through her mind, the scent of freesia seemed to drift through the room.

“Can you smell that?”

An odd look sparked in Anna’s dark eyes and she set down her teacup. “I smell it all the time. It’s like she’s right here with me sometimes. But of course that’s crazy.”

“Is it?”

“I don’t believe in ghosts. I’m sorry. I’m sure I’m a little more prosaic than you. I can’t buy that Abigail still lingers at Brambleberry House.”

“So what explanation do you have for it?”

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