your time.”
Jake stood, surprised he didn’t have to duck to clear the rafters. “No problem. As my grandma would’ve said—’round here we do fer each other.” He let the grin he’d been suppressing since she’d called have rein and took two steps toward her. Why, he wasn’t sure.
On the wall across from the bench hung a large black cross, striking in its simplicity. “Kind of a peaceful place to be stuck in a predicament. Did you hang that?”
“No. It was—”
“Can I come up, Jake?” Lexi’s voice echoed through the hole in the floor.
“Sorry. That’s my niece. Mind if she comes up and looks around?”
Emily lifted both hands and smiled. “Might as well make it a party. Wish I had some peanuhbutter cookies to serve.”
Looking from Emily to the cross on the wall, Jake wondered if being stuck in this place hadn’t been good therapy. She was a very different woman from the all-business person he’d talked to just hours ago.
“Wait a sec, Lex.” He walked back and held the top of the ladder securely. She scrambled up and he made introductions.
“Hi.” Lexi nodded to Emily and surveyed the room. “Wow. Cool. It’s like a church up here.” She scampered over to the bench, a straight-backed church pew. “Wouldn’t this be an awesome place to pray?”
Embarrassed that he was embarrassed, Jake nodded. “If Grace Ostermann put this up here, it’s been years since anyone’s prayed here.” He snuck a quick look at Emily. Unless you did. “She had bad knees. I used to see her limping around with her cane”—he regretted the word as it left his mouth—“in the garden. I don’t think she could have climbed up, but maybe she could have.” The old saying about digging out of a hole with a shovel came to mind.
Emily shook her head and the shadow of a smile crossed her lips. Absolution? She must be used to insensitivity.
Lexi picked up the quilt and folded it, like the good little housekeeper Ben was turning her into. “Jake, did you see this?” she whispered, running her hand across the quilt.
He took a closer look and nodded, his throat tightening. He looked at Emily. “My sister, Lexi’s mom, was a quilt show addict. She died almost a year ago.”
“I’m sorry. For both of you.”
Jake had to hand it to her for not spewing the platitudes so many people felt necessary. “Thank you.”
Lexi walked to the window overlooking the river and an awkward silence descended. Jake thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “About what I said earlier—have you hired anyone yet?”
“Not yet.” The slightest of smiles once again teased the corner of Emily’s mouth. “I haven’t changed my mind about what needs to be done.”
Not really feeling it, he matched her smile. “I didn’t figure you had.” Convictions took sides in his head, but it wasn’t really a contest. “The thing is”—he kept his sigh as silent as he could—“I have.”
Emily woke on Saturday morning with a sneeze that ricocheted off the high ceiling of the dining room. Not surprising, since she’d slept ten inches off a floor with cracks wide enough to house generations of dust mites. She stretched her neck and shoulders, working from top to bottom to loosen the kinks from eight hours of driving and another eight on an air mattress. Her physical therapist had told her to stop and walk around every two hours on the trip. Now she wished she’d taken his advice.
Rolling not-so-gracefully onto her yoga mat, she arched her back and rocked her pelvis, feeling every one of the shadowy lines that still showed on X-rays.
Her stomach protested her supper of caramel rice cakes and stale peanuts. She needed to find a restaurant and then a grocery store. She dipped her head toward the floor, arms parallel to her body, held the position, breathing slow and deep, then slid her arms forward in an extended puppy pose. Two breaths into the stretch, her phone rang. She sat up, staring at an inhabited cobweb on the crown molding in the corner as she reached behind her back for her phone. “Hello.”
“Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, Em.” Her father’s “happy voice” shot across Lake Michigan as if he were in the same room. “You’re on speaker phone. How was your trip?”
“Great.” She tailored her tone to harmonize with her parents’ hopes. “Perfect weather.”
“And you’re not too stiff from the drive?”
“Nope.” Depending on how one defined too.
“Did you stay at the house or get a hotel room?”
“I slept on the