“Yes, baby,” I said at last, still awed. “Yes, this is it. But let’s go check in before we unload the car, okay?”
My hands were clammy as I opened Henry’s door. The sweat sliding down my spine from the cloying humidity suddenly went cold, as if someone had whispered at the nape of my neck where my hair was pulled into a ponytail. I shivered, then wiped the perspiration from my hairline and tried to tamp down the nerves knotting my stomach.
Henry, unbothered, beamed with excitement, his steps bouncy as we approached the wide veranda. He hopped up each step, turning to me when he reached the top, eager for praise at what a big boy he was to jump up the steps so easily.
My nerves settled at his grin. He saw this move as an adventure—a brand-new place to explore. I just hoped that I’d made the right decision, that his joy signaled the fresh start I’d longed for, the one Whit had promised.
“Did you see me?” Henry panted. “I jumped upallthe steps!”
“You sure did, baby,” I confirmed, forcing a smile. “You’re so big!”
“Big enough to go to school?” Henry asked. “Do I get to ride the bus now?”
“Yes! Won’t that be fun!” I pulled him in for a quick hug, keeping my tone cheerful to hide the fact that sending him to school filled me with dread. “Just a few more months, kiddo.”
I reached for the crimson door’s knob, noting the colorful stained-glass panels, when the porch creaked. My head snapped toward the sound, my heartbeat spiking. An elegant white bentwood chair rocked slowly, the floorboards beneath creaking with the chair’s rhythm.
What the hell…?
The door suddenly swung open, jerking the knob from my grasp, and a man strode out, barreling straight into me.
“Oh, shit, sorry, ma’am!” he cried, grabbing my upper arms to keep me from tumbling backward down the steps.
I tensed and reflexively brought up my arm to knock his hand away but stopped short when he released me quickly. “It’s okay,” I said in a rush, taking a half-step further from his reach. “No big deal. Excuse me.” I gestured toward the door. “I’m the new tenant. I’m here to check in and get my key.”
“You’re Zellie Dupont,” he said, scrubbing a hand on his thigh before offering it.
He didn’t seem much older than me. His wavy, chin-length blond hair was already beginning to curl from the humidity, and well-developed muscles were visible through his T-shirt where it clung to his skin. A toolbelt slung around his hips looked more fashion accessory than functional, but the hand he still held out was callused, his nails showing proof of hard work despite his pretty-boy appearance.
I eyed him warily as I shook his hand. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Chase Crawford,” he announced as if his name was supposed to mean something to me. When I stared at him blankly, he added, “I’m overseeing the renovations, so you’ll see me around here quite a bit.”
I managed a tight grin. “Lucky me.”
Henry tugged my hand. “Mama, are we going in?”
I lifted a brow at Chase. “I don’t know.Arewe?”
“Oh, sorry,” Chase fumbled, pushing open the door and holding it for us. “You go right on in, little man. I’ve got your key inside here, Ms. Dupont. Whit wanted me to help y’all get settled.”
I started to step over the threshold but paused, an uneasiness I couldn’t explain rippling through me. I glanced toward the rocking chair—now still—and swallowed hard. A gust of wind rushed through the porch, setting it rocking again. I let out a shaky laugh, relieved to blame a breeze instead of one of Savannah’s infamous ghosts.
But I still sensedsomething—an awareness squirmed beneath my skin, making my muscles twitch and my bones ache to run. I didn’t know who this Chase Crawford was or if he truly had the authority to give me the keys. I would’ve been less anxious had Whit met us himself. As it was, I already felt like a charity case who was living here on borrowed time. And walking in now, I felt like…well, anintruder.
“C’mon, Mama,” Henry urged, pulling my hand, hopping with excitement. “C’mon!”
“Sorry, sorry!” I laughed. “I’m coming.” I shook off my apprehension and followed Chase inside.
The lobby area looked like it had once been a great hall, receiving guests for dinner parties and garden soirées. Just inside the door sat a heavy wooden reception desk that looked as old as the building, making the computer and flat screen monitor on it seem out of place. Chase rummaged through the top drawerand produced a set of keys, then grabbed a manila folder from the corner of the desk. My name was on the tab.
“Sorry,” he said, holding up the folder. “I don’t normally handle this. Iris is the one who welcomes new tenants and runs the building, but she’s off today. She makes the most amazing peach cobbler you’ve ever tasted—you’re gonna love it.”
I’d lived in Georgia for several years but had never had peach cobbler, so my basis for comparison was nonexistent. Even so, the mention of it made my mouth water. Dessert had been a luxury Vivian never allowed— sugar led to gluttony, a deadly sin—so, I couldn’t wait for Iris to share her famous cobbler. I might even havetwohelpings, just for spite.
“Y’all come on,” Chase continued, motioning for us to follow him. “I’ll give you the tour. We’ve got two floors completely renovated. Still working on the fourth floor—” He gestured toward the wide staircase with intricately carved banisters. “—and the first floor, which folks like to call the garden level. If it’s half underground, then it’s a basement, in my estimation. But it’s never been labeled that way, so call it whatever suits you. No washer and dryer hookups in the apartments, so everyone uses the ones in thebasement.”
He chuckled at his own joke, then gestured toward another set of stairs tucked back in the shadows. “Those lead to the lower level. Eventually, the basement apartment will be rented out, but it’s empty at present. Now, on this level, there’s one apartment down that hall there where Junior and Pearlie Johnson live. They’re good people.” He sent a grin over his shoulder at me. “Ms. Pearlie loves good low-country cooking and invites everyone over for dinner Sundays. It’s my favorite day of the week.”
