Page 8 of Sweet Home

His eyes searched her face and for a moment she felt… cared for. Then she remembered that he was a professional, and probably just looking to see if her pupils were dilated or something.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, taking the hand he offered as she climbed down.

His big hand was so warm, and she felt a funny little shiver of satisfaction at his touch.

“My mom is in here, and she’ll have about a million questions,” West chuckled. “I’ll try my best to get you out of a whole interrogation.”

Dulcie smiled in spite of herself. Of course there was a friendly older lady in this house. She felt her shoulders go down a little as hernerves settled.

As she climbed the squeaky front steps, she noticed the toys on the front porch. There was a sort of wooden table with a cover on top and a plastic pail of molds and old cookie cutters beside it, along with a tricycle, a folded umbrella stroller that looked like it had been there forever, and a small pair of rain boots.

They have kids,she thought to herself, feeling safer immediately.That means there’s a wife, too. He’s definitely not a serial killer.

West opened up the door and gestured for her to step inside.

Old instincts died hard, and she found herself scanning the dark hallway before stepping in.

West came in after her, flicking a wall switch to reveal an entry with a wooden bench along one wall and a narrow table against the other. He tossed his keys into a lumpy pottery bowl on the table, then kicked off his boots, and gestured to the end of the hall.

Dulcie put her own shoes next to his, then followed him back to a bright kitchen that smelled absolutely heavenly. Just like she had predicted, it was hung with old-fashioned wallpaper and outfitted with plain wooden cupboards and an avocado-green stove and fridge.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” a woman said, hopping up from the table where it looked like she had been reading a thick library-bound book and sipping tea from an earthenware mug. “Who can this be?”

“Hey, Ma,” West said. “This is Dulcie. She had some trouble with her car on the way through town.”

“Isn’t that a pretty name?” the lady said, turning herblue-eyed gaze to Dulcie. “I’m Maggie. Maggie Lawrence. You’ll be staying on the farm then?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dulcie said politely.

“Dulcie was looking for work,” West said quietly. “I let her know we’ll be able to keep her plenty busy around here once she’s settled.”

Maggie’s expression looked almost confused for a moment, then her eyes lit up and she turned back to Dulcie.

“We sure will,” she said kindly. “Thank goodness you’re here. And West has the prettiest guest room. You’ll be nice and cozy until you find a place of your own.”

“I don’t want to impose,” Dulcie said.

“Oh, we always have extra people on the farm,” Maggie said dismissively. “Besides, when you have a big old country house, you hate to see it empty, right, son?”

West smiled down at his mom with obvious fondness.

“Daddy?” a little voice called out from the hall.

“We’re in the kitchen, honey,” West said, heading for the door.

But before he crossed the room, a tiny figure appeared in the threshold. She had honey-blonde hair, fuzzy purple pajamas, and piercing blue eyes, just like her daddy’s, which instantly landed on Dulcie and then widened.

“Are you a princess?” she whispered.

4

WEST

West gazed at his daughter in amazement.

Like father, like daughter,he thought to himself.

“She’s not a princess, honey,” Mom told her gently. “This is Miss Dulcie. She’s going to stay in your guest room for a little while and help us out on the farm.”

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