And he was paying now, wasn’t he? For killing a woman, for never truly loving his wife, for loving another man’s wife.

Eliza was paying for her manipulation and lies.

Amy paid for all of them with her wounded spirit and shattered family.

Guilt consumed him, and he bent over with the force of it. The two things he’d avoided most of his life—how he loved and blood guilt—now sat in the cab with him as unwanted guests; he turned to them, acknowledged them.

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-two

A push of Amy’s feet kept the porch swing floating back and forth with the wind on a balmy Saturday afternoon. Jack and Molly were home and their hollers and footsteps sounded out the open upstairs window in a muffled song of family. The air was warm and clean after a two-day rain. Phil had opened all the windows as spring teased them with its late arrival. The daffodils he and Molly had planted last year poked their heads out, opening their petals to the sun.

She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of her family, to the pleasant dissonance of the various birdcalls. Hope—that was what she felt. Spring represented hope. The undercurrent of sorrow beneath her breast would be a constant reminder of what she’d done, of how she’d almost discarded her soul in a search that ended on her front porch. Yet spring and hope both existed.

Carol Anne’s car pulled up to the curb. She jumped out and waved at Amy, then leaned into the backseat and pulled out a pile of papers.

She climbed the steps to the porch and sat down next to Amy, dropped her parcel on the porch. “I need your help.”

“You got it. What do you need?”

“Okay, here’s the deal. A client just hired me to do her new home—”

“How? You didn’t go back to Farley, did you?”

“Nope—it’s a brand-new customer. Never used Farley—he can’t go after me. And—get this—this client was referred to me by one of Farley’s clients. Oh, if he only knew . . .” She looked up to the sky. “Anyway—it’s the Picker house on Fourth.”

“The old neoclassical building on the corner?”

Carol Anne smiled and stomped her foot. “You got it, darlin’.”

“What a coup. That is awesome! I told you it would work out—I told you.” Tears filled Amy’s eyes. “What do you need from me?”

“Well, it’s more than a little favor—they want to restore it to its original look. And I can’t really help them without my best friend.”

“The entire house?”

“Yes, and I promised them it would be authentic right down to the last banister.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll help. What, are you kidding?”

“Okay, that took a lot of convincing.”