No Place Like Home Read online

  Kaye closed her eyes, thinking in despair of the horrifying difference between Nora’s house as she must remember it and the way it was today. “I’m sure he will, when he can,” she said doubtfully. “There are reasons, I’m sure.”

  “Will you take me? You have a car.”

  “Nora, I can’t possibly do that, and anyway, we couldn’t get inside. The house has a lockbox on the door—you know, the ones that real estate agents put on so only they can get the key.”

  Nora was shaking her head. “We don’t need their key.”

  Kaye said, weakly, “What do you mean?” She had a momentary vision of Nora Farrell in her neat navy-print house dress and old-fashioned black shoes climbing over the sill of the pantry window.

  Then she realized that there was a much simpler explanation. “Nora,” she demanded, “do you still have a key to that house?”

  Nora seemed to debate something within herself, but finally she nodded, like a small child who has just been caught in mischief. “If you won’t take me,” she said with decision, “and Brendan won’t, then I’ll just have to do something about it myself when the weather is better and I can walk over there.”

  “Nora!” Kaye was horrified. If the old lady carried out this mad plan, and walked in to see the devastation of her beloved house—well, the next real estate agent who came to show it was apt to find a tiny, fragile body somewhere inside, dead of a heart attack.

  But how on earth could she be stopped? Kaye wondered frantically.

  “Nora, you can’t use that key,” she said hoarsely. “It— it would get Brendan into trouble. They would think that he’d known all along you had it.”

  Nora blinked. “They would?” she said doubtfully.

  Kaye plunged on. “It would be awful for him. They might even think that he’d told you that you could go there.” She paused, and added, more gently, “I know it’s hard to accept, but the bank does own the house now, Nora, and you’d be trespassing if you went there alone. And if they thought Brendan knew you were doing...”

  “Trespassing?” Nora repeated.

  There was a long silence.

  “You wouldn’t want to make trouble for Brendan, would you?”

  Nora shook her head.

  “I think Brendan should have the key,” Kaye said. “Why don’t you give it to me now? I’m seeing him tonight, and I’ll explain about it.”

  “He won’t be angry with me?” Nora said tremulously. “1 didn’t ever use it. I just wanted to have it, in case. I didn’t understand that it might make trouble for him.”

  “He won’t be angry.” Kaye had never been so certain of anything in her life. Brendan might be horrified at this narrow escape from disaster, or relieved to have the phantom key back where it belonged. He would be anything but angry.

  Brendan didn’t get angry, she reflected, remembering the night she had put the dent in his car. They had stood there in the snow that night, together, as if nothing else in the world existed...

  She dragged her attention ruthlessly back to the moment. No daydreams, she warned herself.

  Nora sighed. Then she turned to the little chest beside her bed and peeled a small envelope from the underside of the top drawer, where it had been taped. She held it for a few seconds, and then handed it across to Kaye. “You’ll explain it to him?”

  “Of course I will.” Kaye received the key thankfully and put it in the innermost pocket of her handbag, where it couldn’t possibly disappear.

  “And you’ll tell him how much I’d like to see my house?” Nora asked wistfully. “I don’t think he believes it would be good for me, but it would be just like medicine to walk through my house one more time.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Kaye whispered. “I have to go now, Nora. I’ll stop and see you again.”

  “Please do,” Nora said with dignity. “I won’t be such a weak-kneed female next time. I detest old people who feel sorry for themselves because times have changed, and I hate it when I sound like one of them.”

  Kaye was quite proud of herself for holding back the tears till she reached her car. By the time she reached her own apartment, she had reestablished her self-control, and some cold water on her face and a few minutes with her makeup kit made her feel much better. As soon as she got back from her day in the sun, she told herself, she would start burning up the telephone lines until someone in authority found a better solution for Nora. There had to be one; she was convinced of that.

  Brendan was late, and she found herself pacing the floor as she waited for him. Do you look forward to seeing him? Emily had asked. Do you find yourself thinking of things you want to tell him?

  “Oh, stop it,” Kaye told herself angrily. “He’s a nice guy and you’ve spent a lot of time with him lately; that’s all there is to it. You just have to get control of yourself.”

  But when the doorbell rang she jumped up so quickly that Omar tumbled from her lap and sprawled on the floor. He picked himself up and looked at her accusingly, but Kaye was already at the door.

  Brendan handed her a bag. “Dinner,” he said. “I didn’t think it was appropriate for us to starve.”

  She sniffed. “Smells good.”

  “Barbecued ribs from the place on LeGrange Boulevard.”

  “You disappoint me,” she teased. “I thought you’d rushed home and cooked them yourself. Come in.”

  He put a stack of books on the corner of the coffee table, and Kaye looked at them with distaste. “Food first,” she decreed. “This apartment doesn’t accommodate elegant dining, I’m afraid. How about having a picnic in the middle of the floor?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Brendan tossed his jacket over the arm of the couch, loosened his tie, and sank down onto the carpet with a sigh.

  “I’ll get the wine. It’s white, I’m afraid—not quite the thing to go with ribs.”

  “Let’s be crass and drink it anyway.” He didn’t sound as if he cared. “It’s been a very long day, and I could stand a drink before we start looking at those books again.”

  “Don’t you have them memorized by now?”

  “Nearly. I know every five-bedroom house in Henderson by sight, that’s sure.”

  “Look on the bright side,” she suggested. “Every time you show me a house, Brendan, you earn another gold star in your heavenly crown—for patience and things like that.”

  “Honey, this has become a personal quest, you know.” But he wasn’t emphatic about it—he sounded tired instead, she thought.

  She handed him the wine bottle and a corkscrew. “I’ll set the table while you pour.” She spread a blanket out over the carpet and unpacked the bag he had brought.

  The food was good—the ribs were firm and heavily coated in sauce, and yet with the first touch, the meat peeled exquisitely off the bones and almost melted in her mouth. “I have to give you credit,” she said finally, as she set her plate aside. “You can certainly choose a restaurant.”

  She looked at the stack of books on the coffee table and sighed. Sooner or later, she thought, I will have to start, and I might as well not take up any more of the man’s time than necessary. He looks exhausted tonight.

  She unfolded herself from her cross-legged position and picked up the plates. He didn’t offer to help, which surprised her, and when she came back a few minutes later with a warm wet towel to get rid of the barbecue sauce, he had stretched out full length on the floor. His eyes were closed and one brown hand lay across Omar’s white fur, as if he had gone to sleep in the middle of petting the animal.

  Kaye’s hand clenched hard on the towel, as she tried to fight off the urge to forget all about the sticky barbecue sauce and just creep silently between him and the cat. What would it be like to lie there with him, she wondered, nestled against his body, with his hands petting and massaging her—

  Don’t be an idiot, she told herself. You’re an engaged woman.

  But if you feel this way about another man, a still small voice in the back of her brain reminded, perh
aps you shouldn’t be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  BRENDAN moved then, and stretched as gracefully as a cat. “What you need,” he said without opening his eyes, “is a fireplace, Kaye. A nice log fire on a cold night like this would be the finishing touch in comfort.”

  “I’m looking for one. Remember?” To her own ears, her voice sounded oddly strained, but he didn’t seem to notice anything unusual.

  “I’m doing the best I can,” he said lightly. “It’s not my fault you’re impossible to please. I can think of a dozen nice fireplaces you’ve turned down, just because you didn’t like the houses they were attached to.”

  That should put you in your place, Kaye told herself, and show you what a silly goose you’re being.

  It was apparent that he wasn’t suffering from any romantic notions. All he had had in mind that night in Nora’s front hall, Kaye told herself, was a bit of dalliance with a willing client. Marilyn had been right; he would do anything to sell a house, but he had simply misread Kaye. As soon as she had made it clear that she wasn’t interested, that was the end of that; Brendan McKenna wasn’t about to endanger a commission to get a little fun on the side.

  I should be happy that he revealed himself so clearly, she told herself. And I am. I’m very glad indeed.

  “Here’s a wet towel to wipe off the barbecue sauce,” she said, and dropped it beside him. She looked longingly at the blanket—it had nothing to do with him, she thought; it was just that the floor was her favorite place to stretch out and read—and then settled herself on the couch with the heavy books.

  “Omar thanks you,” Brendan said lazily. “I accidentally petted him with sauce on my hand, and got it all over his fur. We mere humans have no idea what a terrible job it is to be a Persian cat, you know.”

  “I’d like to try it some time. Napping on a pillow all day…”

  “And having to eat canned cat food?”

  “That would be a drawback.” Kaye turned automatically to the section of the multiple listing book that showed large homes. She looked down at the first page of grainy photographs with distaste. “I know you’ve sort of got Sultan for a pet,” she began, remembering the huge orange cat she had found on his front porch the day he had made waffles for her.

  “Or Sultan sort of has me,” Brendan agreed.

  “I don’t suppose you’d want a full-time cat, would you?”

  “Why? Have you got a stray in the neighborhood?”

  “No. I’m looking for a new home for Omar.”

  “I know of a nice little two-bedroom bungalow.” He must have seen a flash of irritation in her eyes. “Sorry, Kaye. Why are you giving away your cat?”

  The details of her decision were really none of his business, she decided. “Because I’m gone so much, and he isn’t used to strangers.”

  “That makes no sense at all. You’ll be home more once you’ve found a house, and how can you give him away if he doesn’t like new people?”

  “Well, you needn’t sound so horridly suspicious of my motives,” she said tartly. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with him. Besides, he’s a purebred, and you wouldn’t believe what they cost.”

  “That sort of thing never weighed heavily with me. I’ve seen a lot of alley cats who had more personality than the highly-bred darlings.”

  “Don’t take offense, Omar,” she said dryly. “I’m sure he didn’t mean that personally. I thought you might like to have him, Brendan. You two certainly seem to get along well enough.”

  “That’s true. And I’m a stranger—which only confirms my feeling that you haven’t given the real reason.”

  “If you don’t want him, just say so. And in that case, it certainly isn’t necessary to probe my reasons.”

  “But it’s fun.” He propped himself up on one elbow and absently scratched Omar’s chin. “I’ll bet that the stranger he doesn’t get along with is Graham. Am I right?”

  She turned another page, jotted down another address on what was promising to be a very short list, and tried to ignore him.

  “Your silence confirms my opinion,” Brendan pointed out.

  What did it matter? she asked herself. “Graham doesn’t care for cats, that’s all. It’s a matter of taste. I wouldn’t like to have a python running around the house, myself.”

  “Why don’t you just keep Omar and get rid of Graham? A python would be a warm fuzzy compared to him.”

  “I do not want to hear any more of your nasty comments.”

  “Besides,” Brendan went on smoothly, “you can’t give a cat away as you would an old sweater you don’t wear any more. Omar wouldn’t understand.”

  “I don’t see that I have much choice, Brendan. I’ve let Omar get very spoiled, and he is horribly, jealous of Graham, that’s all. He’s too old to change, and it would be cruel to make him live with someone he doesn’t like.”

  “Oh, too true.”

  Kaye eyed him warily, but Brendan looked angelically innocent. Omar rolled over and Brendan started to scratch the cat’s stomach. Omar stretched luxuriously and his purr grew so loud that Kaye could hear it halfway across the room.

  “He’s used to having things his own way,” she went on. “If I was to come down on the floor with you right now, he’d be so jealous and obnoxious that he’d probably claw you to pieces.”

  Brendan patted the blanket. “Come on. Let’s see.”

  “I was only using that as an illustration,” Kaye said stiffly.

  “I know. But I’m inspecting a possible life’s companion here. I don’t want any unpleasant surprises after I get him home.”

  “You’re serious? You might take him?”

  “I might. Come on down and let’s see what happens.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Are you scared?” he said softly. “Of me?”

  “Of course not. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make any more tasteless jokes about it.” She turned a page, having seen nothing that was on it. Her fingers were trembling. She couldn’t look at him.

  “I beg your pardon.” His voice was harsh.

  She nodded stiffly. For the next few minutes, there was no sound in the room except for pages turning. Omar had stopped purring, as if he recognized the tension between them.

  Or was the tension only in herself? Kaye wondered. Brendan was still sprawled on the floor with one forearm over his eyes; he looked as if he was asleep. Apparently it was only she who was uncomfortable.

  And why should that be? she asked herself. Why should he have such tremendous power to upset her, to make her feel like a nervous schoolgirl?

  She studied him with an attempt at scientific detachment. Emily was right about him being good-looking; even stretched out on the floor asleep he was one of the handsomest men she had ever seen. Her hand went out half-consciously to caress the rough fibers of his grey herringbone jacket, where he had flung it over the arm of the couch. It smelled ever so slightly of his aftershave.

  His face was lean and relaxed at the moment. The mouth that could quirk in a sudden grin was unsmiling now. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could still picture them in her mind—so dark blue that they sometimes looked black, and yet never quite without that wicked sparkle that promised a teasing for someone...

  “Have I passed inspection?” he asked lazily.

  Kaye sucked in a long, startled breath and dropped her eyes to the book in her lap, willing herself not to change color. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, as coolly as she could.

  “Oh?” He sat up. “I could have sworn you were watching me.”

  “Do you often have delusions that you’re being stared at?” she asked crisply.

  He grinned. “Only when there’s a pretty girl in the room. What are you finding in the books?”

  “Not much.” It was a relief to have the subject changed, she thought, and then had second thoughts when he came across to the couch to see for himself.

  “Mind if I move this?” he murmured, and gently unclen
ched her hand from the sleeve of his jacket so he could lay it aside.

  I was hanging on to it like a life preserver, Kaye thought incredulously. How perfectly embarrassing that he caught me doing it! She lost the battle to keep from blushing.

  He leaned over her shoulder. “Now, show me what you’ve found.”

  She turned pages with tremulous hands, and leaned towards him to point out a photograph. “I thought that one was pretty.”