“Sure. I don’t eat out much. I like to cook.” She glanced at him, wondering when he’d turn into a jerk. In her experience all men did. “Get the food, then just drive me home. We can sit on my porch and watch the rain while we eat.”

“You got it.” He smiled at her for a moment, then turned into the drive-through lane.

In ten minutes they had their bags and drinks and she was giving him directions to her place. “It’s only a few miles out of town, but no one ever comes there. Not even a mailman. I have to pick up my mail in town. I don’t think my home has a proper address. It’s just been Primrose Hill for as long as folks can remember.”

When he turned onto a muddy trail that couldn’t even be called a road, he asked, “Cars ever make it to your place?”

Tuesday laughed. “Nope. I consider this road my security system.”

“You mind if the next time I have to dump some dirt from a construction site I drop it off here?”

“Nope.”

She stared through the rain as her great-grandmother’s house came into view. “You’re on Primrose Hill now. My great-grandparents came from England after the First World War. He planted fruit trees and she planted flowers all over the hill. When I was a kid, I moved in to help my Grannie Eva out, or that’s what my mom said when she dumped me off. My great-granddad was long dead. Grannie died two years after I came to live here and left me the house.”

“What about your grandmother and your folks?”

“My grandmother died soon after my mother was born. No man in the picture that anyone ever mentioned, but there must have been at some point since my mom came along. So Grannie raised my mom. Mom hated small towns, so she left as soon as she could drive. A few years after she left, she had me. Again, no guy stayed around. A dozen years later when she finally decided to get married, I was in the way, so she dumped me with Grannie Eva. The old girl raised three generations of daughters before she died.”

Ketch pulled his truck close to a rundown porch and seemed to be studying the old house in the rain. “Fascinating design. I can even see a bit of England in the lines.”

She tried to see the house through his eyes. The steps up to the sagging porch were broken and wooden shingles looked like they’d slide off the roof any second. Several windows were boarded closed upstairs. Parts of the home were beautiful but most looked like they needed care.

But she loved the rounded rocks that formed the foundation and natural beams that seemed to guard the big old house whose roof brushed hundred-year-old trees.