“Thankfully, I have help.” She avoided mentioning Aiden since her dad had snubbed him at the wedding. “Let me give you the grand tour.”

She showed him from room to room, explaining which genres would go where. She told him about Nathaniel Quinn’s book signing, but not being a reader, he didn’t recognize the author’s name.

“And this will be the children’s room.” She pointed toward the large window seat. “I’m planning to make a cozy reading spot there, but that’ll have to wait a few weeks.” Or maybe longer. Sophie had gotten an estimate from the auto mechanic this morning. The repairs on her Tahoe would eat a big hole in her meager savings.

“It’s coming along real nice, sweetheart,” Dad said when the tour was finished. “You have an extra brush? I have a little time before I have to get back on the road.”

Warmth surged through her at the offer. “That’d be great, Dad. There’s an extra brush in that bag.”

He retrieved it and she led him down the hall. “If you could touch up around the doorways that would be helpful. It’s hard to manage on crutches.”

“We can catch up while we work.”

She sank onto the floor nearby and resumed painting.

They made small talk for a while, sticking to safer topics like work and Jenna’s honeymoon, their brushstrokes a backdrop for their conversation. She knew she should say something about Aiden being here, but instead she hoped her dad would be gone before Aiden returned.

She was happy to have her father here, and not because of the work he was doing. It felt good to have him stepping up to the plate. Since he’d left the family, it felt as if he’d abdicated his role as parent. And even though Sophie was all grown up now, she still needed her dad.

Conversation flowed fluidly for an hour or so, and talk soon returned to her renovation.

“I was thrilled to find original wood floors under the carpet,” Sophie said. “I think they’ll only need a topcoat.”

“Use the fast-dry stuff since you’re on a deadline. I used it at my house a few years ago.”

“I’d forgotten you have wood floors.” She’d only been to his house twice.

“Yeah . . .” Something in his voice made Sophie look up from her work.

He spared her a glance. “Sweetheart . . . There’s something I wanted to ask you. I almost asked at the wedding but decided the time wasn’t right. At this point things are getting pretty bad—it can’t wait any longer.”

She lowered her brush, frowning, her mind immediately leaping toward some kind of illness. “What is it, Daddy?”