Free Unforgotten by Kristen Heitzmann Page B

dreamer, a visionary. He sees what he hopes for.”
    Her skeptical mind turned that thought over. Did Lance really not see, or did he not want her to? At the moment, she was disinclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. “I wouldn’t have come if he’d told me.”
    “You’re here now.”
    “Is there an escape hatch? A trapdoor? I don’t even mind a skeleton or two.”
    Chaz laughed. “You could try the dumbwaiter. But it only goes to the cellar.”
    “Not far enough.”
    “Then you must be content in your circumstances.” She sighed. “But how?”
    “ ‘Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice.’ ”
    Rese startled. Rejoice always? No matter what? That was as bad as Lance’s Scripture that said to boast in affliction that developed character. She’d be stellar by the end of this. “Where do you get all that?”
    He tapped his book. “God’s Word is my university.”
    The door opened and Lance came in. “Can I play?” He smiled as he took a chair and rocked it back, squeezing his shoulder blades to stretch his chest.
    She had an unmistakable desire to overturn the chair with her foot.
    He raised his brows. “Still in one piece?”
    “Of course.”
    “I’ve lost hair and a pound of flesh, but I’ve still got my teeth.”
    “You did get the worst of it out in the yard.”
    “You saw that?”
    “I assume you were the center of the mob.” She had snuck a look from the bathroom window, where she’d hidden long enough to give her ears a rest.
    “Nice to be loved.” Lance rubbed a red mark on his arm.
    And that was it, Rese thought. In spite of the bickering, the bantering and squalling, the playful and not so playful scuffling, there was a possessiveness, a cohesion in his family she couldn’t help but envy. Lance could hardly draw a breath without someone wanting his attention or showering theirs on him. Only his father had remained aloof. But maybe that was normal for them. Even though she and Dad had been partners, they’d had little relationship outside the work they both loved.
    “Don’t let it go to your head.” Chaz gestured with his elegant fingers. “Better a humble stone than a coveted gem.”
    Lance eyed him. “Jamaican proverb? Or Chazian?”
    Chaz laughed. “A stone is used to build. A gem causes strife.”
    Rese looked from one to the other, knowing what Chaz meant, but also that Lance hadn’t forced or even craved the attention he got. Unlike Bobby, who’d grown increasingly domineering and selfimportant, Lance had focused on everyone else, as he had with her when they first met, drawing her out as no one had before. Caring, as no one had before.
    She didn’t want to care back, but how could she stop it? There was something inherently attractive about him, even with his faults. Maybe because of them, if there was anything to that affliction thing proving character. She said, “A gem is a stone. It just depends on what’s been done to it.”
    “That”—Chaz raised a finger—“is an excellent point. The transforming power of adversity.” And he gave her a secret smile.
    She got the point but didn’t like it. Dinner had been torture, and she did not feel better for it. Lance might complain about their knowing him too well, but he’d been energized by the interaction. He was the perfect personality to run the inn. He liked people.
    She felt drained. Lance had seemed talkative when they first met, but nothing like the rest of them, at least all together in one place. Nonna Antonia had been silent on her right, but on her left Monica had run on about her kids, her Bobby, her nausea, and everyone else had talked to her from whatever position they were in, hollering questions over the din. How was she supposed to take a bite?
    But she had worked the food in somehow. Her stomach was full, though she had no idea what she’d eaten. Rese sent her gaze to the bedroom where, even if she couldn’t sleep, it would be quiet and private— no, she was sharing