It was, she realized, a glimpse at what this house could be, if only it were allowed to recover from whatever blight had placed it in a time warp oh so many years ago. Twenty-two so many years ago, most likely.

A knock sounded at the door before she could make the mistake—or delight—of snooping through Harrison’s drawers. Assuming it was one of her sisters with a suitcase full of clothes and toiletries, she sprang from the bed to answer it. With any luck, it would be Dawn. Lila was a gem of a sister, and Sophie wouldn’t trade her for the world, but she’d probably pack things like full-length flannel nightgowns to ward off chills and the retainer Sophie hadn’t worn since she was eighteen. Dawn could be trusted to throw in something with straps or lace. Possibly both.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she said as she pulled on the handle only to stop and find herself facing the tall, sparse frame of Wallace Parks.

“Doubt it” came his prompt reply. He peered around the door as if to ensure she was alone. Finding that she was, he added, “I came to ask you a favor.”

“Of course.”

She gestured for him to follow her inside. From the surprised way he took in the sight of his son’s room, it was obvious he hadn’t been in there in some time—if ever. It seemed strange to her, this disinterest so intense it bordered on the perverse, but there was obviously a lot about this family she didn’t understand.

Wallace was careful to close the door behind him, sealing the two of them alone in the quiet of the room. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, casting furtive glances to each of the corners as if expecting a hiding shadow to pounce, so Sophie did her best to put him at ease.

“I can’t thank you enough for letting me stay here for a bit,” she said with what she hoped was calm friendliness. She sat on the bed, the soft mattress sinking under her weight. “I know it’s not always pleasant, having a virtual stranger drop in and tell you all the work that needs to be done on your home—”

“Work?” Wallace’s voice was sharp with suspicion. “What do you mean, work? You already put all those damn plastic things in the outlets and made it impossible to pee in the middle of the night. What else is there to do?”

She’d never be able to say what prompted her to reply the way she did, but she repressed a smile and said, “I’d like to put tablecloths out, if you don’t mind. They really improve the appearance of a room, don’t you think?”

Wallace’s only response was to harrumph, which told her everything she needed to know.

“Oh my,” she said. “You totally like Bubbles now, don’t you?”