Cold feet by Brenda Novak Read Free Book Online

father.
    "Sounds good," he said, following her to what she'd labeled the carriage house.
    Brianna glanced back at him several times, as if she thought she could scare him away with her dark looks. But he merely smiled and, when Madison swung the door wide, stepped past her.
    The place smelled like an expensive candle store, Caleb decided as he began to notice several things he'd missed before--the vase of fresh wildflowers on the kitchen table, the small shower in the bathroom he'd been unable to see from the window, the mahogany entertainment center in the bedroom that housed another television.
    "You know, from your voice, I thought you'd be older," Madison said as she watched him look around.
    Opening what appeared to be a pantry, he pretended not to hear her. "How soon did you want to get someone in here?"
    "As you can see, it's ready. I've had a phone installed and everything. You could move in tomorrow."
    The hope in her voice and the modest car she was driving reinforced Caleb's impression that, considering Danny Lieberman's wealth, she hadn't managed to get a very good divorce settlement. "How long has it been on the market?"
    "A little over a month. But I've lowered the price." She tucked a strand of hair behind one ear in a self-conscious movement. "I'm only asking eight hundred."
    He nodded and walked back into the living room, wondering how to turn the conversation to her father--while feeling a peculiar reluctance to do so. "This place is small but...nice," he said.
    Brianna was sitting on the couch with her stuffed rabbit and had spread several sheets of paper on the coffee table in front of her.
    "These are very good," he said when he realized they were sketches, and that she meant for him to see them. "Who drew them?"
    "My mom."
    He studied the first, a pencil drawing of an old, gnarled hand gripping a cane, then the second, a set of clasped hands--one male, the other female--and the last, an intriguing pair of eyes. Were they Ellis Purcell's eyes? Caleb could have sworn they were. They seemed to hold all kinds of dark secrets.
    He wondered if Madison knew those dark secrets, and if he'd ever be able to get them out of her.
    "Brianna, what are you doing with my sketches?" Madison asked, coming up from behind.
    "I think she's proud of you," Caleb said. "And it looks as though she has reason to be. You're very talented."
    Madison quickly gathered up her drawings. "Thanks, but it's just a hobby." After setting them aside, she clasped her hands in a businesslike manner. "So, do you like it? Do you want the place?"
    He was about to explain that he hadn't really come to rent the carriage house when there was a knock on the door.
    Brianna grabbed her stuffed rabbit and ran to open it. A tall, white-haired gentleman who looked to be in his late fifties stood on the stoop. "Is your mommy here?"
    Brianna turned expectantly, and Madison approached the door. "Can I help you?"
    "I'm Dwight Sanderson."
    "Who?" she said.
    Caleb watched the man's face cloud with confusion at Madison's startled reaction. "I spoke with you a few days ago and then again this morning, remember? I'm here to see the house."
    "But--"
    "I'm afraid you're too late," Caleb interrupted, joining them at the door. "It's already taken."
    Madison blinked at him in surprise, and Caleb felt a good measure of surprise himself. What the hell did he think he was doing?
    "I thought you were...Who are you?" Madison asked, turning to him.
    "Caleb Trovato." He stuck out his hand, fairly confident she'd never recognize his name. He wrote under the pseudonym Thomas L. Wagner, his mother's grandfather's name, and had signed the letters he'd sent her and Danny the same way, since they'd been written in a professional capacity.
    "Caleb Trovato," she repeated, hesitantly accepting his handshake. "If you called, my baby-sitter forgot to write it down."
    Her fingers felt slim and dainty, and she was close enough that he could smell a hint of her perfume. "I didn't call. I