“Maybe it’s the ghost of Ava Campbell,” Jim said, poking his head into the room. “She might not like you messing with her kitchen. Rumor has it she enjoyed cooking. She’d even send the staff home and cook dinner for the family herself.”

“I think Mrs. Campbell’s ghost will be very happy with the end result,” Maggie told him. “How’d it go upstairs?”

“Both bedrooms are in pretty good shape,” he reported. “Hardwood could use some refinishing, but it’s not an emergency.”

“How about the bathrooms?”

Silas saw Jim wince. “About as bad as yours.”

Maggie sighed. “Better focus on those this week. I’ll be needing them by the weekend.”

Silas wanted to ask what the rush was on bedrooms and bathrooms, but they were still locked in a battle of wills until he was confident that she’d cave. Maybe he looked like a “kicked-back tree-hugger”—his sister’s words—but inside, he had a stubborn streak when it came to justice.

“Can I talk to you?” Maggie asked softly, appearing at his elbow.

Victory was his.

“Ah, crap,” Elton grumbled, digging for his money clip. “I had next Tuesday.”

“I had next month,” Travis said glumly.

His mooney-eyed teenage employee should have known better. “Y’all maybe want to shut it?” Silas said, shoving them out of Maggie’s path.

“Had what?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“You two making up,” Travis said, even moonier than usual.

She looked like she was changing her mind, so Silas took matters into his own hands and dragged her out of the room, down the hall, and into the newly created powder room behind the staircase.

“Watch the tile. We didn’t grout yet,” she warned, stepping carefully to the middle of two oversize slate tiles.

He shut the door, looked for the light switch, and found the fixture missing. It was a small space and dark except for the light coming in through a slim, stained-glass window.

Silas leaned against the wall and crossed his arms to keep himself from putting his hands on her.

“I don’t know if I want to talk, now that I know there was action on it,” she grumbled.

“If it makes you feel better, I had us making up days ago. I had no idea you’d be able to resist me for this long.”

She pursed her lips, a gesture he found erotically enchanting. “That does make me feel marginally better,” she admitted.

He stayed silent while she ran a finger along the edge of the vanity. She’d gone with a dresser style in here. Painted a dark green with a simple granite top.

“I guess I wanted to say maybe you had a point, and maybe I owe someone an apology. I’m still not sure that someone is you though.”

He grinned. “Wow. You’re really bad at this.”