3
That night, Ezreal had several nightmares about walking into the first piano lesson only to find the room full of women, none of whom he knew. When he dragged himself to the brainstorming meeting in the morning to work out some glitches they were having with the new champion, he was bleary-eyed. Darius was there, but Ezreal had no desire to tell him that it’d been a woman who’d made it hard to sleep.
When he could finally get away from the office, Ezreal realized he hadn’t gotten Mrs. Fortune’s address. He pulled out his phone and called Rafe’s mother.
“Hey, Mrs. D.”
“Hello, Ezreal. Did you forget to ask for Sara’s address?”
“Yes.” Sara was a pretty name and seemed to fit her.
“It’s kind of next door. Our lots connect in the back, but there’s that small lot near the street in between us.” Francie gave him the address. “I really appreciate you helping with this.”
“I’m happy to.” Ezreal was surprised that he meant it.
Since he was familiar with the street, he found the house easy enough. He’d noticed it many times over the three years that he’d been driving to the bed-and-breakfast. Now if he weren’t so on edge, he might have even looked forward to the visit.
Thinking about meeting with Mrs. Fortune again made him even more nervous than when Ahri had first moved to the B&B. He was finally getting used to his partner Kayn’s sister and could look at her now, though he hadn’t been able to speak to her yet. He’d tried to be pleasant but knew his seeming coldness hurt and confused her.
He couldn’t imagine what it’d be like having to go into hiding because her spouse had been murdered. Ezreal was glad when Rafe had offered her a temporary job. There was no way Ezreal could have done it; the thought paralyzed him.
He checked the numbers on the mailbox and pulled into the gravel driveway. Mrs. Fortune’s house was smaller than the B&B but looked to have been built about the same time. The lot was decently sized. He wondered if the teacher had bought the house or was just renting. But if she was making renovations on the workroom, she must own it.
Taking his time getting out of his car, Ezreal studied the property. It was well-maintained with a large grassy front lawn and a couple of trees that gave balance between shade and sun. Did she do all the upkeep herself or could she afford to pay someone to do it for her? It made him wonder about her financial situation. Not that it was any of his business.
He chided himself for being too interested in her. It was hard not to be since every time he thought of her or the children, their melodic voices ran through his mind.
“Perfect timing,” Mrs. Fortune said from her front door.
Ezreal startled. He’d been focused on the property. And thinking abouther. How long had she been watching him? He turned doubly self-conscious. She opened the door and indicated he should enter. He kept his eyes downcast when he stepped past her. A soft, pleasant fragrance wafted over him, and he wanted to inhale more deeply. She smelled good, something he didn’t usually notice on women because he was too busy searching for an escape.
Janna and Brand ran up to him and each took a hand.
“Will you play with us?” the little girl asked.
“I’ve come here to work,” Ezreal said.
“But I want to show you what I can do with my blocks,” Brand said.
“Maybe you can show them to me after we’re done working. It’s up to your mother.” Mentioning Mrs. Fortune made him remember she was standing right there. His face flooded with warmth. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her face, but her feet were pointed in his direction.
“I thought it was only fair to feed you first since you’ve been kind enough to offer to help.”
“Mama made spaghetti.” Brand started tugging Ezreal toward the table.
“Ask your mother if she needs any help with the food,” Ezreal said softly to Janna.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“Don’t be rude, Janna,” her mother said. “Just repeat what he asks you.”
Ezreal looked up at Mrs. Fortune. She only held his gaze for a second before glancing away. She nodded as though they were conspiring together. What did that mean?
She must know about hisproblem. He felt a little sick. Had Francie told her?
“But that’s silly mama.”
“No, it’s like a game for Mr. Wallach. You like games, right?” When Janna nodded, her mother moved toward the kitchen. “I should get the salad.” Mrs. Fortune went into the kitchen.
