1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [118]
His mother had often sung him to sleep, and it was a memory Will would always hold dear.
“The choral group’s asked me to join them,” Charlotte said, obviously pleased by the invitation. “We sing at special events, like this Christmas gathering. We also sing at church services every week right here in the complex.”
As promised, it took only a few minutes to sign the necessary papers, which they did in Charlotte and Ben’s apartment. When they’d finished, Olivia handed him the house keys.
“So when’s moving day for you?” she asked on their way out the door an hour later. They’d stayed for cookies and part of the singing but left during the break. Olivia needed to get home, because she and Jack had a social engagement that evening. And Will was eager to start shifting some of his things over to the house. He wasn’t especially happy to be moving in December, but there was no avoiding that. He’d be out of the apartment in time for Miranda to move in January 2.
The gallery was officially closed when Will returned, although Miranda was in the office, going through some invoices.
“How did everything go with Charlotte and Ben?” she asked, looking up from the desk.
“Great. I even got a few cookies out of the deal and listened to some Christmas songs.”
She grinned. “Lucky you.”
“How was the afternoon?”
“Pretty good. Better than we expected.”
“Excellent.” Then, before he could change his mind, he asked, “Would you like to go to dinner?”
She scowled at the question. “You…and me?”
“Why not? I just bought a house. I’m in the mood to celebrate.”
“And Shirley’s married.”
At her comment and its implication, Will shook his head. “What does Shirley have to do with anything?”
“Nothing, I suppose, except she’s the one you were hot to trot with, not me.”
Will couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard that expression and it made him laugh.
“You find that amusing?”
“Frankly, yes. Hot to trot? Give me a break.” As her eyes narrowed, he quickly added, “Don’t worry, I’m not looking at you as her replacement.”
“I should hope not.”
“The dinner invitation wasn’t meant as an insult, Miranda. However, considering your reaction, I withdraw the offer.”
“That’s just fine.”
“Good.” The woman continually sent him mixed messages. He feared he was guilty of sending a few of those himself.
“I’ll be leaving, then.”
“Yes. Thanks for staying.” He turned his back on her and hung his coat on a peg by the office door. “See you in the morning.”
“Right.” She reached for her coat and purse and was gone.
“Well, so much for that,” Will muttered. It was probably better not to waste time dining out, but he wasn’t looking forward to dragging boxes from one residence to another.
Once he’d loaded up his car and driven it over to the house, he spent the next half hour unloading. The house had been professionally cleaned and smelled of pine-scented cleanser. His sister had arranged this on his behalf and Will was grateful.
Standing in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips, he surveyed the home that was so familiar to him. He’d make it his own, he decided, turn it into a place that suited his adult personality.
Walking into the master bedroom that had once belonged to his parents, he had to smile. As a kid a trip into this room usually meant he was due for a walloping by his father. He’d gotten his share of those growing up. Olivia, too, although his father was always much gentler with her than with Will.
He relived other memories as he walked from room to room, feeling a mix of nostalgia and melancholy. This house had been a place of happiness much of the time. His parents had high expectations of him and his sister, but nothing was more important than family. He—
The doorbell chimed, surprising him. He suspected it might be one of the neighbors, coming to check in. No doubt his mother had told everyone in the vicinity that he’d be taking up residence.
He discovered Miranda Sullivan on the porch. She held a bucket of fried chicken in her hand and looked more than a little uncomfortable. “I brought you dinner,” she