He ignored her question. “I’ve been checking things out around here,” he said. “Everything’s in pretty good shape, really, considering no one’s lived here in four years. I guess it was lucky my dad had hired someone to keep an eye on things, to keep the heat on in the winter and everything, keep the pipes from freezing. Oh, I talked to a guy about getting the window fixed in the dining room. Thanks for covering it up—it must have broken after Mr. Wojtas died. Anyway, the guy said he’d come and look at it.”

“Goodness!”

Then JJ noticed the basket in her hands. “What did you bring me today?”

“Oh, well, some cinnamon rolls, and leftovers from our dinner yesterday.”

“Really!” he said. “Cinnamon rolls! I bet you made them yourself, too.”

She nodded.

“I missed your cooking this weekend,” he said. “I had to go down to Shorty’s Pub and eat burgers. But don’t worry, I didn’t tell anyone that you’re working here.” He grinned. “Even though I wanted to brag about what a good cook you are.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Should I put this in the kitchen?”

They ate cinnamon rolls standing at the butcher block in the kitchen. She hadn’t planned on joining him, but he insisted. “Take a break, Dolly! Besides, I can’t eat all of these myself.” She felt somehow flattered, picking up a gooey roll. After a moment, emboldened by his affability, she asked what had caused him to take such an interest in the house all of a sudden.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “I guess it’s why I’m here, right? So, what the hell?”

She licked a smear of icing off her finger. “But you don’t—care?”

He shrugged.

“Well, I’ve told Byron—that’s my husband—I’ve told Byron that I’m helping you clean the—or, I mean, that I’m going to be working more hours for your father, on account of your being in town. I certainly would appreciate any help you might—” She let her voice trail off; he was looking at her and seemed amused.

If that’s how he’s going to be!

After they finished their rolls, he made a show of stocking the refrigerator with the foil-wrapped packages Dolly had brought. “My first food!” he said, positioning the packages on the middle shelf. “Almost like I live here.”

“Would you like me to go shopping for you?”

He waved her off. “I don’t want to bother you with that. I’m not much of a cook, anyway.”

“Just some bread and meat for sandwiches, maybe?”

He looked at her a moment. “Yeah, okay. That would be nice.” Then he smiled. “Not to say I don’t want you to keep bringing these leftovers. I tell you, that husband of yours doesn’t know how good he has it.”