Page 3 of The Pink House

“Need help?”

The unexpected voice had Hannah whirling, nearly hitting her head on the side of the hatch of her car. She blinked and realized this was no stranger offering assistance. This man was someone she knew. “Charlie?”

“Hey, you remember.” He flashed an easy grin that was as much a part of him as the worn jeans and the dark wavy hair that went past his collar.

“How could I forget?” Her tone turned droll. “You were in our wedding.”

Not justinthe wedding. He’d been Brian’s best man. Their friendship had been one Hannah had never understood.

While her husband and Charlie had both been popular athletes and good-looking guys in high school, Charlie had struck her as over-the-top loud and something of a show-off.

Brian had always told her that if she took the time to get to know Charlie, she’d like him. There had never been an opportunity. The two boys had gone to different colleges, and after graduation, she and Brian had married and settled in Greensboro.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make the funeral.” Charlie shifted from one foot to the other. “My mom was in the hospital and pretty sick. With my dad out of the picture, I needed to stay close.”

“I understand.” Those days were a blur anyway. Besides, Charlie had always struck her as a wildcard, and she hadn’t needed any drama at the service. There had been enough with Brian’s mother fainting and hitting her head, necessitating a 911 call.

Hannah remembered wishing she could just give in to her grief, weep uncontrollably and fall apart, leaving someone else to pick up the pieces.

Instead, she’d gone on autopilot and made the arrangements, contacted everyone who needed to be reached and comforted Brian’s parents.

Only in her townhouse, once everyone had left and all the duties were done, had it hit her. Brian, with his laughing hazel eyes and bright smile, would never again kiss her, hold her or call her Hannah Banana. All the dreams she’d had for the future had died with him.

“Hannah.” Charlie’s tone gentled. “You okay?”

How many times during the past year had she been asked that same question? Fifty? A hundred?

She’d discovered there was only one suitable answer, preferably accompanied by a slight smile.

“I’m fine.” Taking in a breath, she expelled it slowly. “Or I will be once I get all this stuff unloaded and inside.”

“I’ll help.” Charlie didn’t wait for a response. He simply scooped up a box containing wedding china and hefted it as easily as if it held feathers.

“Thanks.” Hannah grabbed a box of her own and followed him into the house.

“Where do you want this?” he asked.

For a second, she considered telling him to just set it down in the living room, but she knew she’d have to eventually move it. “Would you mind putting it on the dining room table?”

“No problem.” He set the box on a table that sported a thin layer of dust.

Hannah stood there for a moment, studying the mahogany table and matching china hutch, relics of a bygone era. She’d want to update, that much was certain. But until she had a clear vision of how she wanted to update the interior, she’d put what was here to good use.

“Your father thought about taking these pieces with him to Florida, but Sandie was having none of it.”

Sandie, whom her father had married last year, had very definite ideas. Her dad appeared to take the woman’s bossiness in stride. Hannah figured he must see something in her. After nearly thirty years as a widower, he’d finally taken the plunge.

“In this instance, I agree with Sandie. Leaving them behind made sense. The pieces are heavy and would have cost a fortune to move.” Hannah shook her head. “Plus, I’ve seen pictures of their Florida home. These wouldn’t fit in at all.”

“Your dad still had a hard time walking away.” Charlie’s sharp-eyed gaze surveyed the dated decor. “He told me it felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind.”

Hannah understood. She’d felt the same about her furniture in Greensboro.

“What else did my dad tell you?” Hannah hadn’t even known that Charlie and her father were that well acquainted.

“That knowing you’d be living here was a comfort.”

Now, this was getting weird. Hannah lifted a hand. “Tell me again how you know my father.”

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