Tuesday lay down using his chest as a pillow. “I remember Grannie Eva saying she’d traded one of her paintings for lumber.” Tuesday laughed. “When I would cry, Grannie would climb the two flights of stairs to this attic and we’d watch clouds. Wonder why she never showed me the hidden steps.”

Ketch said his thoughts. “Maybe it was a secret passage for lovers?”

“But there were only three people in the house when it was built.”

Ketch grinned. “And only two knew about this passage.”

She shook her head. “Not my grannie. She’d never . . .”

He leaned close. “She wasn’t always a grandmother. Once she was a girl married to an older man and maybe, just maybe, in love with his brother.”

“Impossible.” Tuesday giggled.

“No ordinary builder designed this house. You mind if I take the plans and study them? This Tony, who worked for meals, could have made a name for himself.”

“Sure. You found the plans. You can have them, but you’re not getting this T-shirt back. You gave it to me and I’m never taking it off.”

She patted him on the chest. “Stop laughing. You’re making my pillow wiggle. After our near-death experience, I just want to lie here for a while and watch the clouds go by.”

And that is exactly what she did as he smiled, thinking of all there was to explore in this place.

As Tuesday drifted off to sleep, he thought of the letter from Crystal. If it hadn’t been for the letter, he wouldn’t have gone to the bar. If he hadn’t gone to the bar, he wouldn’t have met Tuesday. He didn’t care about the rumors circling her. He didn’t believe them.

Maybe nothing more would ever happen between them, but she’d taught him a lesson. No matter what came of their friendship, he’d learned to always look around the next corner.

Ketch closed his eyes, still seeing the puffy clouds in his mind. For the first time in his life, he felt at home. Maybe it was a person, maybe it was the house, or just maybe it was a career.

He didn’t belong in chemistry; he belonged in architecture. This house was making it plain what he loved.

Chapter 10 - Hank

Chapter 10

Hank

When the ambulance brought the librarian home, Hank took one look at the winding path up to Amelia Remington’s front door and lifted her from the stretcher. “You mind if I carry you, Millie?”

“It seems the most practical way.” Her voice was soft, tired now.

One of the EMTs took her keys and ran ahead to open the door.