body, relaxed a little more, and turned to face her.
“You mentioned your mother’s paintings,” Dena said. “What about an art show and sale? You could give the proceeds to a local charity.”
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and stared off into the distance again. It seemed he did that often. She waited quietly for the decision. Her hands were clasped so tight that she thought all circulation might stop.
Finally he nodded. “Not a bad idea—”
“Great. Fabulous.”
The excitement of work soared through her. She’d always been happiest when planning a new project. Even as a kid, she’d barely finish one and then she’d plan the next. And this way she’d learn more about the casita, and his mother, and she’d get to help him even if from a distance. Well, that is, if she could convince him to let her stay…but, one thing at a time.
“I could build some good publicity for the event,” Dena said softly, tamping down her excitement. “Your mother was well-liked in the community. We could take a look at the paintings tomorrow, before I leave—”
“Okay.”
“I’m happy to tell you how to set up the event. Or, you could sign with Steve, and he’d advise you.”
Zeke reached over and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry about…you know…back there at dinner—”
“It’s okay,” Dena said. “I don’t understand why I have to leave, but I respect your history with Rocky. And I understand it’s hard for you to talk about your mother.”
She stared across the lake at the dark shape of what must be the old ranch house. There was a second story on one side, like a tower. She narrowed her eyes. Was that a glimmer of light, a flash of a candle, or a beam of a flashlight in the window? She stared harder but it was gone. It was probably just a reflection of the moon off the water.
“Is that the old house that your grandfather built?”
“Mmmm, the old ranch house—”
“Is it really abandoned?”
“Yes. I’m going to have it pulled down, eventually.”
“I’d love to explore it,” Dena said. “I’ll bet it has a great history—”
“Yeah, Argentinian, Spanish, and early Coachella Valley history.” He shrugged. “There are boxes of stuff up in the attic.”
She might visit it in the morning. Anything that would cast a light on the topic at dinner would be helpful. And, she’d sensed there had been something important about the old house that Irma had prevented Manny from saying this afternoon.
Zeke turned. “I used to go there with Rocky when we were young. We’d always find things—”
“Would any of those collectibles be valuable?”
“Probably not, I doubt any museum would pay for them. My grandfather and his brother were big collectors, but it was mostly cheap stuff. Rocky likes that type of thing.”
“Does he have family here?”
He turned toward her and she could see his frown. “Rocky?”
“Yeah—”
“No. He never knew his parents. He was a foster-care kid. St. Matthews took care of him through one of their programs. He moved to our place in his early teens.”
“Oh…interesting,” Dena said. “That might answer for some of his, ah…personality quirks.”
Zeke laughed. “He’s not always gruff. Anyway, he often has lunch there, at the abandoned house. He says he can watch the workers in the fields from the upper level.”
“That’s a good idea.” She stared up at the second story tower. Had that been a light she’d seen? Was he also living there, sleeping there? She kept her voice soft and even, although her heart raced about a mile a minute.
“That’s an excellent plan. He’d get to see who was a slacker.”
Minutes passed in companionable silence.
“So, you’re leaving tomorrow?” Zeke asked, and nudged her shoulder with his.
“Unless you want me to stay,” she said softly, and turned to face him with a smile.
****
They were so close he could see the gleam of her teeth. That was a good sign. At least she didn’t hold tonight’s earlier argument against him. Did he really want her to go? She’d done so much for him already. How long had it been since he’d talked about his mother? It had felt good to get all of that off his chest.
“I do. But only if you kiss me again,” he said, his voice teasing.
Dena pulled in a quick breath. “That could be arranged.”
“Look, Dena,” he said, his voice turning serious. “You staying or going, it’s not really up to me—”
“You’re wrong.” She shivered, and hunkered down into her thin sweatshirt. “You’re the boss.”