He waits three heartbeats before pulling away—I count them. Three wild, pounding heartbeats while we look at each other.
Ten minutes later, I’m in the kitchen washing the breakfast dishes when Mom comes out of her bedroom. My schoolbooks are on the kitchen table. I’m going to try to get back into my routine of working in the mornings for the next few days so that I can finish, turn my lessons over to Mom, and graduate by the end of the week.
She pauses behind me. “I’m still not sure how I feel about hiring Ty.”
“Why?” I look over my shoulder at her, my hands submerged in lemon-scented bubbles. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing, except that we don’t know him. It’s only you and me now. We can’t let just anyone hang around. Besides, all that talk about his father owning rental property might be pure fabrication and he can’t even hammer a nail.”
“That’s why you check references,” I say, with just a hint of sarcasm.
Mom crosses her arms. “I don’t know his references, either.”
Drying my hands on a dish towel, I face her. “Some of them are professors at Columbia. Jeez, Mom. If you doubt that, I’ll check the university’s website and make sure they’re listed. Why are you so nervous and suspicious?”
“Why are you so adamant that we hire him? If it’s a crush, you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. You heard what he said; he’s not sticking around. He’s going back to New York soon.”
Bristling, I toss the dish towel onto the drying rack. “It isn’t a crush. And nobody’s permanent. Dad didn’t stick around, either, did he?”
Mom flinches, and I instantly wish that I could snatch the words back. How could I have said something so cruel? Until now, I didn’t realize how angry I am at Dad for leaving.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Tension stretches between us, wraps around us, tugging tight. The clock ticks steadily. A crow caws outside. Beneath those sounds lies the constant undercurrent of friction that I recognize as Iris. She’s nervous about everything, too, lately. Pressuring me to ask Mom about Winterhaven and Jake, to find out what’s going on. But I don’t think Iris understands Mom’s state of mind right now, how easily she might crumble.
A full minute passes before Mom walks to the coffee table and picks up her cell phone. “I’ll call his references,” she says, avoiding my scrutiny. “If everything checks out, Ty can start work in the morning.”
Ty’s references had only good things to say about him. Mom said they used words like diligent, dependable, and motivated to describe him. She’s obviously impressed, especially since one of them said that he started college on a full academic scholarship. Mom calls Ty and offers him the job.
On Tuesday he arrives at eight o’clock sharp. I’m already at the table with my work spread out in front of me, and Mom is looking over my assignment. Each time I get up to take a break or tend to Cookie, she watches me as if she thinks Ty’s a coyote and I’m a rabbit, and he’ll gobble me up.
At least monitoring my every move keeps Mom out of Dad’s workshop. She doesn’t even escape out there when Ty leaves at three o’clock after clouds move in and it starts to sprinkle.
Disappointed that I didn’t get a chance to talk to Ty before he left, I decide to go see Wyatt. I haven’t heard from him since our ride up the mountain. I don’t want him to think I’m avoiding him.
When I arrive, Wyatt’s helping Addie paint the guest room purple. Addie insists the shade is eggplant and scoffs each time Wyatt makes a snide remark about the color.
I grab a paintbrush and join them. While we work, Addie chatters on about everything imaginable, but Wyatt barely utters a word, which is unusual for him. I try to draw him into the conversation, without much success. More than once, I catch him watching me, or he catches me watching him, and our gazes lock for a moment before we both look away. Each time it happens, I wonder if his pulse is ticking as fast as mine.
Addie finally runs out of things to talk about and starts singing under her breath, but I’m so caught up in trying to figure out what Wyatt’s thinking that I don’t pay attention to the song. I also don’t notice purple paint dripping from my brush onto the white baseboard until