“If you’re sure.” Lacey glanced down at the number. She didn’t recognize it. “Lacey Owens.”
“Lacey, this is Edith Baker. I met you at my husband’s funeral.”
Lacey’s heart rate sped up, the image of the breathtaking Baker property dancing in her mind. “Of course, Mrs. Baker. How are you?”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose. It’s been a difficult week.”
“I can’t begin to imagine. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Well, actually, there may be. You had mentioned you might be interested in doing some volunteer work for the hospital, and I’m chairing a fundraising event there this fall. With all that has happened, I’m too tired to do some of the planning. I could use some help.”
Lacey swallowed a sigh. She needed an income. She didn’t have time to volunteer. But she had offered and it would put her in a good position if Mrs. Baker ever did decide to sell her house. “I’m not certain I know much about throwing a fundraiser, but I can help if you’ll guide me, Mrs. Baker.”
“Perfect, Lacey. And please call me Edith. Would you be available to come by Thursday evening to talk things over?”
“Absolutely.”
***
The house was empty when Lacey came home. She was alone, except for a shirtless young man with washboard abs mowing the lawn. She laughed quietly. When Maeve had told her that she had hired a neighborhood kid to mow the grass, Lacey had pictured some wiry fourteen-year-old. But considering who was doing the hiring, Lacey should have known better.
The “neighborhood kid” looked to be about twenty-two by Lacey’s estimate, as she peered through the blinds at his perfectly cut body.
Lacey waited as her coffee slowly brewed, impatiently tapping her toe on the imported Italian kitchen tile Maeve had installed last week. Her mind drifted to the phone conversation she had just had with her father back at the office. “A volunteer opportunity?” he had chided when she mentioned working on a hospital fundraiser. “That’s a contradiction in terms. If you’re wasting your time without getting paid, there’s no ‘opportunity’ there, Lacey.”
Maybe he was right, but it was too late now.
She shrugged it off. Serves her right for taking a personal call during work hours, she supposed. Lesson learned.
Reaching for a mug in the cabinet, Lacey’s eyes wandered again to the man mowing the lawn. She noticed the sheen of sweat that glistened over his ripped chest and bulging arms, seeming to accentuate each sharp curve. How could she not notice, especially in the midst of her self-imposed dating drought?
Inevitably, the image of the man she had met at Dr. Baker’s funeral popped into her mind. She cracked a smile, remembering the feel of his strong arms sweeping her off the floor with such ease. Lightly tracing the rim of her coffee mug, her fingers tingled recalling the feel of his hard pecs through his shirt.
Bet he looks a bit like that with his shirt off, she thought with a sigh that sounded more like a purr.
“Enjoying the scenery?” Maeve leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, catching the longing stare of her friend out the window.
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
Maeve smiled knowingly. “Yeah, I know. Distracted. Bess is here, too. Went up to her room.” She joined her friend in gazing out the window. “My, my. He doesn’t even have a shirt on. That’s a little unprofessional for his first day of work. Bad boy. I might have to spank him.”
Lacey laughed. “You’re too much. He’s definitely not what I was picturing.”
“Figured. He charges more than that pre-pubescent down the road, but I don’t feel like I’m breaking child labor laws. Not bad to look at either,” Maeve continued, admiration clear in her voice. “And you know how I like…”
“…surrounding yourself with nice things,” Lacey finished for her as the last drops of coffee poured into the pot.
“Mmhm,” Maeve answered dreamily, helping herself to the first cup. “Is this the high octane stuff?”
“Yeah. I’m exhausted, but I still have some calls to make. I’ve got that open house coming up this weekend.”
“Great! Want me to come by and act like an interested buyer?”
“Sure, if you have the time. Oh, speaking of, there were some boxes that I wanted cleared out of her house before it goes up. Carolyn didn’t feel right putting them in storage. Just papers and personal things. Photos probably, too. You know how sentimental old people get. She says her new duplex is too small for them.”
Maeve winced. “How many?”
“About six. Mind if I put them in the attic for a little while? She said she just needs some time to sort through them, but she’s not up to it emotionally right now.”