Coming Home for Christmas by Marie Ferrarella Read Free Book Online Page A

tortured? she couldn’t help thinking.
    â€œEveryone deals with grief in their own way.” Her comment had him eyeing her quizzically. “I heard you talking to her,” she told him, thinking it was best not to elaborate any further right now.
    â€œOf course you did,” he responded. She could tell he struggled to curb his annoyance.
    She watched his expression as she said, “I was just trying to help.”
    â€œYou want to help?” he retorted. “Don’t eavesdrop. Don’t follow me. Just sell the damn things in the house. That’s all I need or want from you.”
    He needed more than that, Kenzie couldn’t help thinking, even if he didn’t consciously realize it. But for now, she pretended to go along with his instructions and nodded her head.
    â€œI still have to go over some of the inventory with you.”
    He’d hired her at the agent’s suggestion so he
wouldn’t
have to deal with any of that. Now she seemed determined to pull him in to do exactly what he didn’t want to do.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œSo I can put a proper price on the items,” she replied innocently. She had more of a motive than that—she wanted to help him deal with his feelings and the past—but saying so would only accomplish the exact opposite.
    â€œIsn’t that up to you?” he asked. “You’re supposed to be the one with the expertise in vintage clutter.”
    He was hiding behind insults, but she had an idea that wasn’t how he felt about it, not really, not deep down.
    â€œI’d need you to point out the items that have more sentimental value for you—”
    Keith immediately cut her short. “Well, that’s easy enough. There aren’t any.”
    The house was filled with clothes, photographs and other things. It seemed impossible to her that he didn’t have at least a few favorite items amid the rest.
    â€œNone?” she asked.
    His answer was firm. “None.”
    Kenzie studied him for a long moment. “I don’t believe you.”
    â€œBelieve me or not. I really don’t care
what
you believe. All I want from you is to deal with the facts as they exist.”
    When it came to battles, Kenzie had learned that picking the time and place gave her some advantage. For now she acquiesced. “If you say so.”
    His eyes narrowed. “I say so.”
    His voice was firm, but Keith didn’t believe what she’d just said for an instant. This woman didn’t strike him as the type to withdraw suddenly like that. Even after only a couple of hours, she seemed a bit more of a fighter than that. If he were to put a bet on it, he’d say the woman was a great example of sneak attacks and most likely was the human personification of guerrilla warfare.
    Kenzie pressed on in her own fashion. “I’d still take it as a favor if you would give me some sort of a bottom-line price on some of the things I found in your mother’s closet.”
    Keith grunted something unintelligible in response as they left the funeral home. He had no desire to go through the things in his mother’s closet.
    Kenzie turned toward him once they were outside in the parking lot and asked, completely out of the blue, “When’s the funeral?”
    There was nothing boring about this woman, Keith thought. “In three days. My mother, according to Mrs. Anderson and confirmed by the funeral director, left very specific instructions as to what she wanted. She thought three days would give all her friends enough time to say goodbye.” He was reiterating what the director had told him.
    It was obvious to Kenzie that he did not appreciate the time frame. Stepping over to the side, she tried to put what he seemed to view as an ordeal in a more flattering light.
    â€œThat was very thoughtful of her.”
    He, apparently, didn’t see it that way.
    â€œOr vain,” Keith countered. “Think