a tree house. And the kids would love it, right?â
âYeah, I suppose,â Silas said, like he was only half listening. Jewel turned to see him sweeping cookie crumbs into his palm, obviously avoiding eye contact.
âSilas? Is something wrong?â
The crumbs deposited into a napkin, he rubbed his fingers together, then finally met her gaze. âNoah says the roof on Eliâs house is worse than he thought. A lot worse. In fact, it needs to be completely replaced before thereâs any more damage to the structure underneath.â
âOâ¦kayâ¦?ââ
âWhich means youâll need to find someplace else to live in the interim.â
Her stomach dropped. ââInterimâ meaningâ¦?â
âMaybeâ¦two weeks?â
âOh.â
Dazed, Jewel wandered out into the living room where her knees went kaflooey, sending her crashing onto the edge of the sofa. Doughboy, sensing unhappiness afoot, waddled over to nudge her thigh, offering slobbery condolences.
âItâs really that bad?â she said.
âWorse. Noah said one good rainstorm and the whole east side of the roof could turn into a skylight.â
Jewel doubled over, palming her face. âWhere on earth am I supposed to go for two weeks? â
âYou donât have friends or somebody you can stay with?â
Her face still buried in her hands, Jewel shook her head. And realized she was an inch away from acting like her mother. Hell. âIâll figure something out,â she said, putting on her Brave Face as she stood, wiped her hands on her jeans and returned to the kitchen to check on the pork roast, which was dumb because the whole point of a slow cooker was not having to check on itâ
âUmâ¦â
She glanced up to see Silas doing that palming-the-back-of-his-head thing men did when they were dreading what came next. âIf worse comes to worst, thereâs the sofa bed in the office.â
âWhat office?â
âMy office. Down the hall.â
Clutching the cooker lid, she gawked at Silas. âYouâre asking me to stay here?â
âOnly as an absolutely last resort.â
She replaced the lid, muttering, âYour hospitality is overwhelming.â
âYou couldnât possibly want to bunk with me. Uh, us.â
âAfter such a heartwarming invitation?â Jewel said, gathering placemats and flatware, then whooshing past Silas to set the table. âNo. But like you saidââ she smacked down the placemats, clunked the silverware on top ââI may not have a choice. And beggars canât be choosers and all that fun stuff.â
âYouâre overreacting.â
âYou might not want to say that to a woman with a knife in her hand.â
âItâs a bread knife, Iâll take my chances. And you just made my pointâhey!â
Man was nimble, she had to give him that. Not that sheâdactually aimed the knife at him, it bounced off the floor a good foot from his shoe, but still close enough to make him jump. And, she was guessing by the dipped brows behind the glasses, seriously reconsider his offer. Pushing out a breath, she stomped over to snatch the knife off the floor and wash it, annoyed as all hell to feel tears coming on.
But, dammit, she was getting so tired of being in limbo, of not having her own home, her own life, of feeling torn in two between being there for assorted family members and desperately wanting, needing, to figure out who Jewel wasâ
âJewel? The knife only fell on the floor, not into a pig sty. I think itâs probably clean enough. And whateverâs in the cooker smells fantastic, by the way.â
She shoved down the faucet handle. Turned. Felt her renegade heart do a slow flip-flop at the contrite expression on Silasâs face. Maybe his chivalry was a tad rusty, but this was a good man, as stalwart as they came. No, he clearly didnât
Sidney Sheldon, Tilly Bagshawe