She left the window and went down the hall toward the living room, wrapped in her speculations. Her hair was still damp and loose. The curls tickled her ears. She brushed at them self-consciously, wishing suddenly that they weren’t having company for dinner, thinking about how boring it was likely to be, already planning how she would excuse herself as soon as the meal was consumed…
“Hello.”
She stopped in surprise. A man was standing just inside the front door looking at her. She had been so preoccupied with her musings she had missed seeing him.
“Hello,” she replied.
“Sorry if I startled you.”
“No, that’s all right. I was thinking about something.”
The words sounded stupid, and she colored slightly. The man didn’t seem to notice. His green eyes stayed fixed on her, his gaze so intense that she blinked in spite of herself.
“You must be Nest.” He smiled as if pleased by’this. “My name is John Ross.”
He extended his hand, and she took it in her own. His grip was strong, and she thought he must be used to hard work. He seemed to her to be constructed all of bones and muscle, but his clothes hung on him as they would have hung on a scarecrow. He looked strange with his shoulder-length hair tied back in that bandanna, but kind of cool, too. She thought it made him look like a little boy. She wondered suddenly what he was doing there. Was he their dinner company or just someone looking to do yard work?
She realized she was still holding his hand and quickly released it. “Sorry.”
He smiled and looked around. Hi§ eyes settled on the portraits of the Freemark women, grouped to one side of the entry door. “Your family?” he asked.
She nodded. “Six generations of us.”
“Handsome women. This house has a good feel to it. Have you lived here all your life?”
She was pondering whether to answer his question or ask one of her own when her grandfather appeared from the den. “Sorry to take so long. I was just looking for her yearbook, senior year, when she was president of the student council. Nest, have you met Mr. Ross?”
Nest nodded, watching her grandfather closely. It was her mother’s yearbook he was holding.
“Mr. Ross knew your mother in school, Nest. In college, in Ohio.” He seemed fascinated by the idea. “He came down to visit us, to say hello. I ran into him at Josie’s this morning and invited him to join us for dinner. Look here, John, this is Caitlin’s picture from her senior year.”
He opened the yearbook and held it out for John Ross to see. Ross limped gingerly over for a look, and for the first time Nest noticed the polished black staff leaning against the wall next to the umbrella stand. The staff was covered with strange symbols carved into wood black and depthless beneath the staff’s worn sheen. Nest stared at the markings for a long moment as John Ross and her grandfather studied her mother’s yearbook. There was something familiar about the markings. She had seen them somewhere before. She was certain of it.
She looked at John Ross anew and wondered how that could be.
Moments later, Gran called them in to dinner. She seated them at the big dining-room table, Nest next to John Ross across from Robert and herself. She placed the food on the table, then finished off her bourbon and made herself another before taking her seat. She picked up her fork and began to eat with barely a glance at her company. Very unlike Gran, who was a stickler for good manners. Nest thought something was clearly troubling her.
“Did you know my mother a long time?” Nest asked, curious now to know more about this stranger.
Ross shook his head. He took small, careful bites as he ate. His green eyes were distant as he spoke. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I didn’t meet her until her second year, and she went home at the end of it. We only had a few months together. I wish I had known her better.”
“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”