Free Heart's Haven by Lois Richer Page A

times.”
    “He will.”
    “I hope so.”
    Cassidy directed him to the little home Elizabeth had provided, and when they arrived, invited him in for tea.
    “I don’t have much of a yard, but you’re welcome to flop down on the snow out back if you want.”
    “Thanks anyway. Maybe another time.” He grinned. “Say, five months from now.”
    “Chicken.”
    “Absolutely.” Ty followed her inside, paused to study the cherished pieces she’d brought back from Europe. “Should I light the fire?”
    “Would you mind? Starting that fire usually takes me an hour. Then it’s time to put it out and go to bed.” She hung their coats up, then moved to the kitchen to brew tea.
    Last night she’d made a pie for her elderly neighbor, but since he’d left for a winter holiday this morning it still sat on her counter. Cassidy cut two slices, then carried everything to the living room.
    “Have a seat,” she said, wondering what Ty was thinking about as he peered so intently into the flames. He’d relaxed a little, lost the fan of lines around his eyes.
    He chose the overstuffed armchair that sat in front of the window and sniffed where her herb pots sat.
    “I can smell mint, parsley and dill but those are the only ones I’m familiar with. Guess I wouldn’t make it as a foodie.”
    “You named most of them.” She added a sprig of the spearmint to his tea. “Everything tastes better with fresh herbs.”
    “Having sampled your wonderful cooking, I agree.” He accepted the chunky mug, sampled the contents. “Mmm, delicious. I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”
    “It’s a blend I make for myself,” she explained. “Since I’ve come back, I find the food either too sweet or too salty. I’ve taken to drinking a lot of tea. It cleanses the palate and—”
    One glance at his face told her she was rambling. She handed him the pie.
    “Sorry. I hope you don’t find that too sour.”
    He judged it perfect.
    “If sweet and sour are the only differences you’ve noticed since you returned, you’re lucky.”
    The way he said it pricked her curiosity.
    “You must have noticed some differences when you came back, too.”
    “I did.”
    “Like?” Oh, that was stupid. His sister had just died. Of course he’d notice a difference.
    Ty tensed. His fingers pinched whiter around the mug. His back straightened. He waited several moments before answering.
    “The smells. People’s attitudes. Sounds.”
    “Is that why you aren’t able to sleep much?” She was getting personal but Cassidy needed to understand why he startled every time there was a loud noise, why he fussed so much about Jack if his nephew wasn’t in school or easily spotted nearby.
    “What makes you think I don’t sleep much?” He smiled when she reminded him that he’d beaten her to work this morning. “You’re right. I don’t. Too much nervous energy, I guess.”
    He hadn’t looked energetic at all, but Cassidy had little time to dwell on his words as Ty quickly turned the conversation.
    “Why do you want Irina Markovich in the kitchen?”
    “Red mentioned she needed a job. I need the help.” She shrugged. “We’ll see how it goes.”
    “I’m pretty sure she’s been beaten,” he told her.
    “You think Red did it?”
    “No.” His blue eyes sought hers, held them until she broke the stare.
    “Red told me her mother drank.”
    “Uh-huh. Did you see Irina’s reaction when I touched her arm?” He leaned back but kept watching her. “There’s something else going on there, Cassidy. Watch yourself.”
    “Red and Irina aren’t going to hurt me,” she scoffed.
    “I didn’t say they would.” Ty sipped his tea and watched her, his gaze mesmeric. “You think you know this neighborhood because you used to live here, but it isn’t the same place as it was. Things change. People change.”
    “I’m not naive. I take precautions. I’ve had to.” Don’t talk about the past. “Some of the places I’ve lived weren’t