“Barely. She was just telling me about—“

“Old memories,” she interrupted. “Thanks for bringing her by, Brant.” Grabbing a hand towel, she wiped at her palms. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Layana.”

I smiled. “Thank you. It was wonderful to meet you both.”

“You leaving?” The large body of Brant’s father closed off the doorway, and the space was suddenly claustrophobic.

“Yes. Thanks.” Brant clapped his father on the back, and we squeezed our way out of the kitchen and made our exit.

I was quiet during the ride home, my mind walking me back through the evening. I wondered at the reasons behind Jillian and Mr. Sharp’s aversion to our relationship. Wondered whether Mrs. Sharp had agreed with her husband, despite her apologies for his statement. Wondered about Sheila Anderson and why Brant didn’t mention that she had died. I could have asked questions. But I didn’t. I looked out the window and thought.

Chapter 12

2 YEARS, 6 MONTHS AGO

I stuck my head in Brant’s office, his head popping up, hands furious on keys, un-pausing in cadence as he smiled. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Don’t get too excited yet,” I teased, walking around the desk, his fingers keying at a rate faster than humanly possible, his eyes glued to me, his mind capable of more simultaneous action than mine. “I’m kidnapping you.”

“Sounds…” He finished his typing, picking his hands up and swiveling his chair to face my approach, his hands reaching out and pulling me into his lap. “Interesting. Where are we going for this kidnapping?”

I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not telling you that. That’d ruin the fun. How much time do you need before we can go?” I glanced at his computer screens, three side-by-side monitors that each displayed file download progresses.

“I’m yours. Steal me away before Jillian reminds me about the budget meeting that starts in fourteen minutes.”

“Shoot.” I hopped off his lap, snagging my purse off the floor. “Then let me get you out of here.”

“You make me so bad,” he murmured, his eyes dark as he snagged me back for one last kiss.

“Oh yeah,” I giggled. “Skipping budget meetings. You can get fitted for your leather vest now. Stick with me and you’ll be going to bed without flossing. Getting really crazy.”

I pulled him around the desk, peeking out of his door with an exaggerated gesture before turning back and putting a finger to my lips. “Run on three,” I whispered. “One…two…” I opened the door and sprinted.

“Here?” Brant looked out the window at the homes before us, my car settling into a spot out front. “I’ve been here before.”

“At the ribbon cutting. I know. I was there too. That didn’t count. Get out.” I opened my door and stepped out, taking a few steps back and snagging a stuffed unicorn off the lawn.

Brant’s door shut and I looked over to see him, his posture awkward, his eyes sweeping over the compound, five brick homes, a fenced yard connecting them, three kids clustered in the shade of an oak, a dog sniffing the edge of the fence and eyeing us as if wondering whether to attack. Brown eyes hit me and his tail started to wag. I stepped toward the gate and flipped the latch. Squeezed through and squatted, running my hands over the collie. “Hey Buster.” I ran him through his three tricks: sit, shake, and down, glancing over when Brant entered the yard and crouched to our level.

“Buster, huh?” He reached out a hand and tousled the collie’s head.

“Yep. Meet the most loved dog in the Greater Bay area.”

I heard the soft sound of steps seconds before a small body flung through the air, knocking my squatting self back into soft grass.

“Miz Lana!” Hannah, a six-year-old bundle of trouble, squealed as she squeezed my neck tightly enough to restrict air flow.

“Hey sweetie,” I gasped. “Let me up a minute so I can introduce you to someone.” I put a hand on the grass and hoisted us both to standing, flashing a smile at the two other kids, ones I’d never seen but would guess to be a few years older than Hannah, the close press of their bodies indicating a sibling familiarity verified by the twin shocks of red hair both possessed. I readjusted Hannah’s weight until she rested on my hip. “Hannah, this is my friend Mr. Brant.”

“Hi Mister Brant.” She reached a solemn hand out, a hand Brant shook with equal seriousness.

“Nice to meet you Hannah.” Brant’s eyes flipped to mine. Dark and intelligent.

I turned to the others. “You guys must be new. I’m Lana, and this is my friend Brant.”

“I told them all about you,” Hannah said with importance, her dark arms tight around my neck.

“Well… tell me about them then, since you know everything,” I teased.

“This is Samuel and Ann. They’re from Boatland.”

“Oakland,” the boy corrected, glancing at his sister.

I smiled. “Welcome to the house, guys. Which one are you staying in?” The houses were named after states, HYA’s goal to have fifty in the next five years. At the moment, our three-acre estate contained five. We were looking at a lot in Sacramento for more homes, as well as spots in San Jose and Los Angeles.

“Georgia. Though they said we have to split up next month.” Worried glances shot between two faces that were too young to have any concerns other than spilled milk.