Free The Inn at Angel Island by Thomas Kinkade

steady, quiet manner or the way she dressed. Her style was sort of a mix of hippie-Earth Mother and country bumpkin.
    “I packed a load of bags in my car and brought them right out to the carting station,” Claire reported as she walked in. Her round cheeks were red from the cold, and Liza felt guilty, knowing she had done all that work alone.
    “You should have told me. I would have come to help you.” Liza stood up and wiped some dust off her hands with an old cloth.
    “It wasn’t very heavy. Just bulky stuff. Besides, someone needed to be here for Daniel. I saw his car outside. Did he repair that leak downstairs?”
    “He’s taking a look at it right now.”
    “He’ll fix it. He can fix just about anything.”
    “Does he paint?” Liza had meant to look for a painter today, but she’d gotten too busy.
    “I believe so. Here he is. You can ask him yourself,” Claire suggested.
    “Hello, Claire,” Daniel greeted the housekeeper with a wide, friendly smile. While he and Claire exchanged greetings, Liza took a moment to notice his impressive set of dimples.
    Now, now, Liza. Handyman, remember? He’s definitely not your type.
    “So how’s the leak? Can you fix it?” Liza asked abruptly.
    “It wasn’t much. It’s already history.”
    “Oh, good. Thanks.” He was efficient at least.
    “Anything else you need me to check?”
    Liza met his glance and looked away. His eyes were brown, a shade almost as dark as his hair, and were filled with a deep, serious light, even when he was smiling. It was an odd thing to notice about a stranger, but she instinctively felt it was true.
    “I was wondering . . . do you do any house painting?”
    “What did you have in mind?” He crossed his arms over his chest. She couldn’t tell if he was interested in the work or not. He didn’t act very eager like some contractors. He didn’t act as if he needed work at all.
    “My brother and I have inherited the house, and we plan on selling it. As soon as possible,” she added. “The real estate agent suggested that we have the exterior painted—a quick job, just to freshen it up—and paint some of the rooms, too.”
    “A quick job on the outside of this place?” She could tell from his expression he was trying hard not to laugh at her.
    “Why? How long will it take? I just mean a quick coat of paint. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
    “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re in no danger of that.”
    Liza started to say something, then stopped. So he was the clever type on top of it. Did she really need that?
    And he had never even told her if he did painting, she suddenly realized.
    “If you don’t take paint jobs or aren’t interested in the work, just say so, Mr. Merritt. I just thought I’d ask you first, since you seem to do so much here.”
    “I never said I wasn’t interested.”
    “You never said if you paint or not.”
    “I do paint. And I’m interested. And it’s Daniel.”
    He smiled again, meeting her gaze. Liza intended to brush him off—the last thing she needed was a sarcastic painter—but she relented.
    “Well, that’s what we want. A quick coat of paint on the outside, just to freshen it up. The main rooms down here seem all right, but there are a few upstairs that need work. There’s a big brown stain on the ceiling in one bathroom.”
    He nodded. “A leak last winter. Your aunt never got around to having the ceiling repaired.”
    “I have a list somewhere. But that’s basically it.”
    He looked surprised. Then amused again. “That’s it?”
    She nodded, feeling off balance. “Why? Is something wrong?”
    “That’s a drop in the paint bucket, that’s all.”
    “Well, that’s all we intend to do. We just want to sell the property,” she repeated.
    “And leave the big headaches for the next owner,” he finished for her.
    She smiled at him. “Exactly.”
    So now he was questioning her ethics? For goodness’ sake, it was done all the time. People didn’t bring a place like