The question took Brad by surprise and a little bark of laughter escaped before he explained, “Not quite. Madeline Viscolli Westcott. Owner of the hotel. She was learning the ropes when we broke ground, and this was her first major project. I gave her some advice that saved her a boatload of money.”
“A boatload of money that would have been yours,” Valerie remarked.
He shrugged. “Irrelevant. It was the right thing to do.”
Her heart swelled with emotion that she didn’t know how to identify. Brad Dixon was a good man. He didn’t just pretend to be a good man to impress people around him. Like his father, his goodness went into his soul and radiated out.
Without thinking about it or hesitating, she reached out and covered one of his hands with both hers. “You’re a good man, Bradford Dixon,” she said softly. “It makes me very proud to be with you tonight.”
He turned his hand so their palms touched. He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of hers. Without remarking on her comment, he stood, retrieved his wallet, and set a large bill on the table. “Ready?”
He helped her to her feet and kept a hold of her hand as they walked through the restaurant, lacing his fingers with hers. They shared the elevator down with another couple, and she stepped closer to him until the side of her body pressed against his, their hands clasped and resting on the small of her back. Even in heels, her head barely came to his shoulder. She imagined how easily she could just lean into him and rest her head against his arm.
They drove back to her house in comfortable silence. Valerie’s mind wandered until she asked, “Where is the apartment?”
“About two miles from your house.” He gave her quick directions.
“I’ll go home after church and change first,” she said. He pulled into her driveway and put the truck into park. “Would you like to come in?”
She turned to face him and could see the intensity in his eyes as he looked at her. “Yes, but I won’t,” he said, his voice deep. “I’ll walk you to the door, though. If you’ll condescend to let me, that is. I know you’re a big girl now and all.”
Valerie took the teasing on the chin and waited while he opened her door. He kept a hand on the small of her back as he walked her up her drive. She pulled her keys and cell phone out of her purse and turned to look at him. “Thank you for an amazing meal and a wonderful night.”
“We should be thanking Mrs. Westcott, apparently.” He smiled and leaned his shoulder against the brick wall. “I’ll have to call her in the morning.”
Unlocking the door, she stepped inside and turned to face him. Inside the threshold, and in her heels, she could almost look him in the eye. “Goodnight, Bradford Dixon,” she said.
“Goodnight, Valerie Flynn.” He straightened and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Go ahead and lock up. I’ll wait.”
Her breath hitched in her throat, partially in embarrassment that he would have guessed her compulsions, partially in relief because they’d come home in the dark and it made it worse. “Thank you.”
She didn’t elaborate and he apparently didn’t need her to, because he only nodded and kept standing there. She knew he’d see the lights go on in each room, but she worked through her shame about it and did the thorough house sweep. About a minute later, she heard his truck engine start and watched the lights flash against her hall wall as he backed out of the driveway.
Valerie got out of hercar in the parking lot of the apartment building. She recognized Brad’s truck backed up to the building marked “office,” and saw a brand-new truck parked next to it that she assumed belonged to Ken.
She looked up at the sky. The sunny spring weather had started to surrender to the heat of summer, and the heat of summer brought afternoon thunderstorms to northern Georgia. The clouds looked like a dark bruise against the summer sky, and a cool breeze stirred the muggy air.
She went through the open door and into what used to serve as the office of the apartment complex. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. A brown leather couch, a recliner, and a square coffee table sat on the orange shag carpet. Where the carpet ended, orange ceramic tile began. Her interior designer self comically recoiled at the décor.
Jon stood on a stepladder and lifted one end of a large flat-screen television onto a brace on the wall while someone she did not know lifted the other end. He glanced her way and lifted his chin in a greeting but did not speak. Instead, he offered instruction to the person helping.
She could smell freshly cut wood, stale carpet, and a mildly unpleasant odor of mildew. She wandered through the room. A cooktop leaned against the back wall next to a kitchen sink and a rolling cart that held a microwave.
A hallway with a bare plywood floor branched off to her right. As she walked down the hall, she saw a bathroom on the right. Next to the bare shower, she saw a box of towels. A few feet ahead, she saw a doorway to her right and glanced in. A metal bed frame held a bare mattress and box springs. A sink and mirror sat in the corner next to a dresser. Two suitcases and two big moving boxes sat on the floor next to the bed.
Following the sound of voices, she went to the last room on the right. There she found Ken and Brad. Brad stood on a stepladder and fastened vertical blinds into the window frame. Ken had an open box next to the dresser and transferred clothes from the box to a drawer.
“Hey,” she said, lifting a hand.
Brad glanced her way. “Hey,” he said, then ducked his head and looked closely at the blinds. With a metallic click, the blinds snapped into their housing and he stepped off the ladder. “Thanks for coming.”
“Happy to help. Where do you need me?”
“I have to run back to the house and grab Ken’s drafting table and some tools. Do you want to help with that, or unpack here and I’ll take him?”
“Wherever I can be most helpful,” she said.
Ken shut the dresser drawer and pointed at the half-empty box. “Why don’t you unpack? That way, Brad and I can probably be more efficient. We aren’t keeping the boxes. Jon can haul them out to the recycle if you get done.”
