I followed suit, grabbed my backpack and laptop, and went up the path to the front door alongside Beau, wondering what on Earth I was about to walk into.

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

Once inside the house, standing there in the foyer, Beau motioned for me to slip off my shoes and hang up my jacket in the hall closet. I took my time inspecting the Watson household as Beau led me from the foyer. Some interior designer must’ve gone through this place trying to make it homey and inviting with warm colors and expensive furniture.

Except something was still missing here.

There were no pictures of any kind anywhere. The walls were completely blank, no photos of Beau and his parents or one of those awkward school photos from the third grade. There weren’t even any of Beau’s certificates or academic medals put on display, and I knew he had plenty.

This made me sad.

The second you walked through our front door, there was barely any empty space anywhere with all the family pictures, art projects, and rainbow ceramic pieces Mom insisted on putting up. Our house was full—or messy, if you wanted to get technical—and you could tell people lived there and had made the space their own.

Beau took me to a state-of-the-art kitchen just off the side of a spacious living room that had a large marble fireplace, mood lighting, leather furniture, and the whole fake potted plants deal. There was someone already in the kitchen though, and it wasn’t Beau’s dad.

The woman currently at the kitchen sink, stacking cups and plates into the nearby dishwasher, was short and plump with gray curly hair, wearing an oversized purple T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. She turned around as we entered and gave Beau a warm smile. I didn’t catch whatever it was she was saying to him. She gave a little start when she saw me and grabbed at a dish towel to dry her hands, coming forward to greet me.

D-A-N-A, Beau signed to me, pointing at the woman as I shook her hand. SHE HELP COOK AND CLEAN SOMETIMES.

This woman Dana didn’t even bat an eyelash at Beau’s signing, just smiled at me as she very clearly said, “Nice . . . meet you!”

It made me wonder if Beau had ever spoken about me to her.

“You too,” I said aloud.

“Want . . . snack?” Dana asked us both. “Don’t mind . . .”

“Sure,” Beau said. “Thanks.”

I wasn’t going to decline the offer—why would I ever pass up food?—so I thanked Dana and followed Beau into the living room to start setting up, ready to work on the project at hand.

FAMILY FRIEND? I signed to Beau after I booted up my laptop, gesturing toward Dana.

He nodded, a grin tugging at his lips, and he signed, SHE HELP WHEN MY MOTHER DIE. MY FATHER ALWAYS BUSY.