Page 5 of Finding Noah
“It’s better than I expected.” Noah tilted his head the way he always did when he was deep in thought.
“Miss Esmeralda did warn me it’sold-lady furniture and decorating,but that we could put the excess furniture and knickknacks in the attic or cellar.” I sighed. “She knows she’s not coming back, and she’s still trying to figure out who will deal with her estate when she passes, but she’s got a few years left.”Or so she maintained.Once we were settled, I would fulfill my promise to her and go visit properly. We’d picked up the keys at the sheriff’s office where the man himself had given us a bit of a grilling.
Sheriff Clayton West was about forty, with brown hair and piercing blue eyes that saw everything and missed nothing. He gave us the lay ofthe land and made it clear we were expected to be law-abiding citizens, and respectful of all—especially Miss Esmeralda.
We didn’t mind the third degree. We had nothing to hide.
I held the keys out to Noah.
After a long moment, he took them. “This feels too good to be true. How do we know there aren’t bodies stacked inside? That the place isn’t coated in blood? Maybe human heads in formaldehyde jars in the basement?”
“You sure can be morbid.” I grinned. “The sheriff locked up the place after Miss Esmeralda went to the hospital. After having met the guy, I can confidently say he did an inventory of everything. And I meaneverything.If so much as a doily goes missing, he’ll track us down.”
A laugh burst from Noah’s chest. “Okay.” He clutched the keys. “Doilies go in a box to the attic. I’ve hated your mother’s doilies since I accidentally spilled chocolate sauce on one when I was eight.” He pursed his lips.
Drat. I’d forgotten about that incident. Shouldn’t have mentioned doilies.I wracked my mind for any other potential triggers. The truth was, Noah was a sensitive soul, and when someone hurt him—whether intentionally or not—he felt that hurt down to the marrow of his bones.
Hence the reason Leroy’s cheating had been such a blow to my good friend.
Sunny days from here on out.
Noah pushed off my SUV and headed up the walkway to the house. He opened the gate, then held it for me. After I stepped through, he closed it. “We need to get into the habit of always closing it. I plan to go along the fence line carefully to ensure it’s intact.”
“Of course.” I wasn’t going to point out the thing had only been installed five years ago. Miss Esmeralda had grown tired of rabbits eating her lettuce and carrots. Only some seriously determined dogs would be able to jump the fence.
We mounted the steps.
“I love this veranda.” I pointed to the swing for two. “I can’t wait to just sit and watch the sunset.”
Noah squinted as he pivoted to look out. “How do you know which direction everything is?”
“Google maps.”
“Ah.” He might’ve spent the last five years working on a computer as a bank teller, but he sure didn’t enjoy them otherwise.
I was always prodigiously careful not to point out that his phone was just a minicomputer. That wouldn’t have gone over very well.
He unlocked the door and gestured for me to go first.
Ever the gentleman. He didn’t always come across that way—especially with his potty mouth and cynical attitude—but he rescued kittens from trees, helped aging ladies across the street, and always gave due deference to his elders.
Well, most of his elders. He had no time for my parents and their shenanigans.
And I didn’t blame him.
The front hall was a little dark, so I hit the light switch.
The sheriff explained how he’d shuttered the place as best he could, so all the blinds were closed, the air conditioning had been turned off, and all the perishables removed from the fridge.
For which I was incredibly grateful. “Shall we open the drapes? Miss Esmeralda’s only been gone a couple of weeks. She used to have a cleaner come in once a month. Nice young fellow whom she highlyrecommends—”
“We can probably manage our own cleaning.” Noah gave me a once-over. “Well, I can. Do you even know how to hold a duster?”
“I’m assuming I hold the handle in my hand?” I raised my arm and purposely made my wrist limp.
He nudged me. “God, you’re an asshole.”
A comment at which I took precisely zero offense. He loved assholes. Well, except when he didn’t. Tone of voice usually gave me the direction I needed to know where he was headed with a thought. “I’m capable of cleaning.” I hadn’t…but that didn’t mean I couldn’t learn. “Although I will be occupied finding employment.” I stalked into the parlor and threw the drapes open.
