tomorrow evening.”
He wouldn’t join them tomorrow or any other evening, she thought, as she stepped into the hallway and closed his door behind her. Each morning Jess came downstairs for breakfast and then retired to his room for the rest of the day. Mrs. Sanders came to take care of the house, A.J., and whatever Jesse might need while Elleny was at the bookstore. But Jesse had never expressed either approval or disapproval of the arrangement. In fact, he seldom expressed an opinion about anything. Unless it was negative.
When she had married Mark and come to share the huge old Victorian house, Jesse had been different. Still difficult, to be sure, but not the embittered man he was today.
Elleny ran her hand along the wooden banister. She loved the house, not only because it had character and charm but because it was Mark’s home. He had grown from child to man in this house, and it seemed fitting that she and A.J. had stayed after Mark died. It had been important in those unsettling days to have roots, to feel the continuity of generations and the intrinsic value of a homeplace. She never had known any of those things before her marriage.
She had been born into a family that thrived on change and challenge. Even now her parents moved often, and her mother’s only comment was still “It’s so much easier to move than to clean house.” Both of her brothers had chosen high-tech, fast-advancement careers that would require travel and transfers across the country. How she had become the lone member of the family to enjoy the security of a single, permanent home, she wasn’t sure. But she had no driving ambition to leave Cedar Springs.
She liked living here, liked the small-town atmosphere and the open friendliness of the residents. If only her father-in-law were more congenial, easier to talk with.
As she descended the stairs, Elleny heard A.J. singing in a high-pitched monotone. Her smile was swift and sure, A.J. made it all worthwhile. He adored his grandfather, even made Jesse laugh at times. And the feeling was reciprocated many times over. Whatever Jesse might say to her, she couldn’t fault his attitude toward her son.
Phillip had thought A.J. was a little shy … like her. Why she should suddenly remember that, she didn’t know.
Or maybe she did. It wasn’t a comparison that she’d heard very often. Most people commented on how much A.J. looked like his father. Few, if any, connected his shyness with her own. Of course, she’d learned to overcome that particular character trait, and no one seemed to think of her as shy. The fact that Phillip had noticed pleased her somehow.
Her smile softened and then blurred into other memories of things he had said. It had been a pleasant afternoon, one that she’d enjoyed thoroughly, except there had been moments, so quickly gone that they left only an impression of things unsaid, of questions unasked. It was silly, she supposed, to entertain any doubt about Phillip’s friendship with Mark. But then, Phillip had sought her out, made a point of wanting to talk to her about Mark.
Elleny brushed a knuckle against the wallpapered stairwell and frowned. Now that she thought about it, he’d actually said very little about Mark, either today or that morning in her store. Phillip hadn’t asked any of the questions she might have expected.
Not that that in itself proved anything. Anyone in town could have told him that Mark had died of a heart attack. An attack that might have been prevented if only he had listened to the doctor, if only he’d been more conscientious about taking his prescribed medication.
Elleny reached the foot of the stairs and walked slowly into the dining room, remembering the shock and devastation that had followed his death. He had been so young, and they’d been married such a brief time, just over two years. And they had been happy. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t continue to mourn.
Mark wouldn’t have wanted her to cling to the