Arlington had been right about her. Not much of a surprise there. The man had a knack for finding the best things—and people—in life.
Mitch tapped the Save button on his Word doc and got up. He stretched, then took his empty coffee cup out to the kitchen and smiled.
Joyce was rubbing butter and herbs on a roasting chicken. Chunks of potatoes, onions, and carrots filled the pan around it. She didn’t look up from her work. “Afternoon.”
“Afternoon. How was your morning off?”
She smiled, giving him a quick look. “It was lovely, thank you. Had a long chat with my sister in England. Did some of my own chores. Took a walk on the beach. Read for a bit. Really lovely.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
She glanced toward the office, slightly hesitant. “How was your day?”
He smiled and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It was good. Really good.”
“Well, that’s marvelous, innit? Good for you.” She washed her hands at the sink, then dried them on a towel. She turned to open the oven door and slid the roasting dish in. “Nothing fancy for dinner. Roast chicken and veg.”
“Joyce, that’s one of my favorite things you make.”
She closed the oven door and straightened. “Is it?”
“With that gravy you make from the pan juices?” He patted his stomach. “You’d better believe it. Jeanie loved it, too.”
She smiled, but tentatively. Like too much smiling might be somehow disrespectful.
He understood. He also knew the fact that she felt that way was his doing. “I know we don’t talk about her very much but it’s time for that to change. There are a lot of good memories. No reason they can’t still be a part of our lives.”
Joyce nodded. “I’m so pleased to hear you say that. I think about her often, but I never want to say anything because…” She straightened the dish towel on the counter.
“Because you think it’ll upset me.”
“A tad bit, yes.”
“Well, I don’t want you to worry about that anymore.”
She swallowed and, for a moment, Mitch thought she was going to shed a tear. Then she smiled. “She did love my roast chicken.”
He laughed. “Yes, she did.” So did Kyle. But that wasn’t a name he wanted to bring up. He might be working at getting more comfortable talking about Jeanie, but his son was still a sore point.
“Will Harper be here for dinner?”
“You know, that’s not a bad idea.” He’d written so much that he actually did have something to talk about with her. He sent her a text.
Fifteen minutes later, there was still no answer. He tried calling and it went straight to voicemail. That was odd. He went back into the kitchen. Joyce was cleaning up. “Have you talked to Harper today?”
“No. Something wrong?”
“I just can’t get ahold of her.”
Joyce looked up from the bowl she was washing. “You could go over there, you know. It’s only just next door.”
“I suppose I could.” That wasn’t something he’d usually do, but maybe getting out of his routine, which certainly hadn’t been helping him lately, was a smart move. He went to the bedroom and put shoes on, then headed out. “Back in a few.”
“All right,” Joyce answered.
He stood on his front porch a moment, just taking in the air and looking around his property. The little path between the two houses wasn’t quite as overgrown as it had been. He headed for it, noticing some of the plants and brush had been deliberately broken off. He took care of a few more that were in the way as he walked.
At Harper’s, he knocked on the door. It was answered shortly by a young woman he didn’t recognize. The woman he’d seen with Harper before he now knew was her sister, Frankie.
