LITMIR.BIZ

      Ridiculously—or so Haley told herself—being alone in the house after Roger left really bothered her. She’d been alone here for most of the last two days, working her way through mementos, treasures and trash, and thinking almost constantly of her grandmother. She’d felt comforted then by being so close to the woman she had loved as only a child can love.

      Now she was uncomfortable?

      She shook herself and gathered some boxes she’d purchased two days ago, spending a few minutes to fold them into shape. Most of her grandmother’s clothes would have to be donated, at least the ones in good enough condition. It seemed she, like her granddaughter, occasionally like to wear a pair of pants or a shirt until it was just shy of falling apart.

      Slowly she began to empty drawers, first from Grandma’s bedroom. Later she’d gather from upstairs, where a whole lot seemed to have accumulated. Proof, she supposed, that stuff filled the space available. Then she’d have to start on the books. Maybe she ought to call the local librarian—Miss Emma, she recalled—and ask if she wanted donations, possibly for a fund-raising sale. To judge by the creaking and overflowing bookcases upstairs, Flora had bought nearly as many books as she’d read.

      That made Haley smile at last. She had the book bug, too, but avoided needing yards of shelf space with her e-reader. Great invention, especially for someone living in a small apartment.

      She did, however, miss the smell and feel of books. Her memory reached into her younger days, summoning the remembrance of getting a new book, opening it, smelling the ink and feeling the paper, seeing those tightly bound pages as a mystery to be explored. The e-reader just didn’t give her those tactile sensations, nor quite the sense of adventure. Once in a while she went to the library just so she could feel the weight of a book in her hands.

      Flora had never wanted to give up on that from the looks of the upstairs.

      But first the clothes. Undergarments went into the first box. Most of what she found approached pristine condition, almost as if Flora had bought it all then had scant opportunity to use it. Or maybe when she’d grown ill, she had started to wonder what her granddaughter would find in these drawers and had replaced the most intimate items. That would be like her, all right. She wouldn’t want to leave anything tattered or stained behind her.

      In the next drawer she found neatly folded nightgowns, but one in particular caused her breath to catch and her throat to tighten. It was almost threadbare now, but the pale green flowers stamped on the white background, an old-fashioned look, carried her back to her visits. Grandma had often worn that when Haley stayed with her and, holding it now close to her face, Haley could almost feel her presence.

      That one was not going to charity. It was too old and worn to begin with, but it was also loaded with memories. Little Haley had loved it and Grandma knew it, which was probably the only reason she’d kept it all this time.

      Blinking back tears, Haley folded it carefully and put it on the end of the bed. For now, at least, it was a treasure she would keep.

      She paused, looking out the open window to see that the day had begun to dim. Where had all the time gone? She glanced at the digital alarm clock beside the bed and saw that it was still early. Then she remembered. When the sun fell behind the mountains, the light changed, not exactly darkening, but losing some of its depth and brightness. A long twilight had just begun. Only slowly, and much later, would real darkness begin to approach. She had hours left.

      She released a sigh and got back to work. It didn’t take long to finish emptying the bureau drawers. Next came the closet. Flora had church clothes in there and two heavy winter coats. Someone would be happy to receive them.

      As she finished folding dresses into a box and started on the hats on the top shelf, she wondered how many dressers upstairs held more clothing. She hadn’t really looked closely, and while Flora had never been a hoarder, who knew how many generations had been carefully laid away up there? If only because no one had looked for many years.

      She guessed she was going to find out.

      She glanced at the clock again and wondered where Roger was. That peeper last night had left an impression she just couldn’t shake. The sooner she got done here, the sooner she could escape back to Baltimore and forget that voyeur.

      She paused as she stacked the last hatbox on top of the boxes full of clothes. Had she made up her mind? Just like that? All because of some creep?

      That didn’t sit well with her. Not at all. Not since childhood had she allowed fear to drive her decisions. She was no coward. Not like that.

      But now, as she stood in a bedroom that had once been full of cherished memories, feeling as if someone had flung dirt all over the place, she wondered.

      After Grandpa’s death, when Haley had been too young to have more than the vaguest memory of the man, Grandma’s life had become limited to the bottom floor of this house, almost as if she had cut something off. Yeah, on the occasions when Haley’s dad came to visit, he’d taken an upstairs bedroom. Other than that, however, those rooms had remained untouched.

      Maybe as a result of heartbreak, Flora had narrowed her life down to one floor of this house and her church. Haley, who would have been too young to know this, had heard her father talking about it once with her mother. How they should insist Flora sell the house and come to live with them.

      Haley had no idea why her mother had opposed the idea. Maybe because her mother hadn’t been happy living in the oil fields. Or maybe whatever her mother had thought hadn’t mattered. Maybe Flora had just refused to give up her home.

      Shaking her head at the way her thoughts were wandering, realizing she was trying to avoid thinking about the fact that another night was approaching, she carried the boxes into the foyer. She needed to call

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