CHAPTER 7
Zoe and Ethan fellinto a habit of eating dinner together every evening. Sometimes they’d eat at her place and sometimes at his. After dinner, they’d watch TV or play games with Hannah. Zoe felt at home in Ethan’s apartment, in part because it had been her home for so long.
But she hadn’t told Ethan that. She wasn’t sure why.
It wasn’t like it was a secret. Originally, the attic had been converted into an apartment for some long-ago housekeeper, back in the heyday of her mother’s acting career. Zoe loved the skylight and big dormer windows, the tiny kitchen where everything was at her fingertips, the wooden floors, and her bed tucked beneath the eaves.
She liked that she could hear Ethan and Hannah moving around below her, their muffled conversations coming through the floorboards. But one evening in November, she heard crying.
Concerned, she paused on the stairs. She was carrying a basket containing a loaf of sourdough bread and a pot of spaghetti covered in clam sauce. Ethan was providing the salad, but—it seemed—Hannah would be supplying the drama. Zoe didn’t know what to do. She despised drama. She got enough of it from her mom and her sister. She didn’t want it in her house, as well.
Ethan, as if he sensed her indecision, poked his head out the door and spotted her.
“Something’s wrong,” Zoe stated the obvious.
Ethan nodded. “Mrs. Hancock, Zoe’s babysitter, is moving to Riverside. Hannah is...upset.”
“Oh dear. I don’t blame her. When is that happening?”
Ethan held the door open for Zoe and she passed by, tingling from his nearness as she did.
“As soon as her condo sells. Hannah wants her to move in here.”
“Ah.” Zoe moved through the mudroom to the fragrant kitchen. A pan of steaming roasted vegetables sat on the table beside a pitcher of ice water with slices of lemon in it. Everything Ethan did turned out lovely. His table settings always looked Pottery Barn photoshoot worthy.
“That’s not a realistic plan,” Ethan said.
“Why is she selling?”
“She’s not, her landlord is.” Ethan took a chair at the table and motioned for Zoe to join him. He lowered his voice and looked down the hall at Hannah’s closed door. “I could, however, buy her condo.”
Zoe took a chair opposite him. “That seems like a remarkably generous thing to do.”
Ethan dished up some vegetables. “Not really. It’s a good investment, I think. What Mrs. Hancock is paying in rent will more than cover the mortgage.”
“Do you want a rental property?” Zoe cut into the bread and offered a slice to Ethan.
“What I want is a gallery. That’s what I’ve been saving up for. If I buy Mrs. Hancock’s condo, I can’t buy a gallery.” He twirled spaghetti on his fork.
