LITMIR.BIZ

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      “I guess. I just have such terrible luck with men.” Julia took a last, longing glance at the picture and then put the tablet away. “How are you?”

      Hailey let the excitement she’d been feeling all day bubble out. “I have news, too.”

      Julia’s eyes bugged out. “You met a guy?”

      “No. I don’t have time for men. I’m building a business. Once I feel more successful, then maybe in a couple of years …”

      “I know. You and your agendas.”

      “Lists keep me on track.” She sometimes thought she’d had so much chaos in her life that relying on lists gave her a sense of control and stability that she’d never had growing up. Moving twelve times in thirteen years when she was a kid had given her a need for order. Her poor mother had quit even trying to decorate their homes. What was the point? So home had always been temporary and she’d grown to hate the sight of a moving box.

      She didn’t need psychoanalysis to understand why she’d chosen a career in real estate. She loved helping clients buy permanent homes. The kinds of places where you could plant a sapling and know you’d be around to enjoy the shade of the tree.

      “Don’t you miss having a man in your life?” Julia lowered her voice. “Don’t you miss sex?”

      “I have lots of men in my life. Realtors, clients, friends.”

      One of Julia’s eyebrows went up. “And sex?”

      “I have sex.” Even to her ears she sounded defensive. “Okay, not a lot of sex. It’s been a while, but sex for me means commitment. I can’t do casual.” She shrugged. “Ever since my engagement ended …” She’d believed Drake, who was a lawyer, was perfect for her. They’d worked together on a few closings. They were both hard-working and ambitious. It wasn’t until they were talking wedding dates that they’d realized how little their agendas meshed. He wanted to move to New York to a bigger firm. She was building a business in Seattle. He wanted children right away. She felt they should wait a couple of years until the marriage had strong roots. A year ago he’d gone to New York without her. Since then she’d thrown herself into work and hadn’t missed Drake as much as she would have imagined.

      “He was a moron to pick New York over you.”

      “Thank you. I agree!”

      “So, your big news?”

      “I got an amazing listing today. It’s my big break. Uncle Ned, an old friend of my father’s, called me out of the blue and offered me the Bellamy House.”

      Julia’s eyes widened once more. “That beautiful old place on the hill?”

      “Yeah. The woman who owned it died a couple of months ago. Uncle Ned is her executor. There’s a grandson and he okayed the sale.”

      “That’s terrific.”

      “I know.” She turned mock serious. “There’s just one problem.”

      Julia grabbed her hand. “It needs staging?”

      “Yes! The problem is I need it staged right away. I think I have the perfect buyers. I hate to ask you, but do you think you could stage it tomorrow? I’d love to show them the place Thursday morning.”

      “Miracles are what I do.” Julia morphed from love-addicted friend into professional home stager, tapping at her tablet, then nodding. “Do you have the key to the place?”

      “Yes.”

      “If you can show me the home tonight, I’ll figure out what I need and by tomorrow night, you’ll have your miracle.”

      “I can’t wait to show you. This house is going to change everything for us.”

       2

      ROB’S BACKPACK WEIGHED a thousand tons as he hauled it out of the back of the cab. His eyes were dry and gritty and his leg hurt like a son of a bitch. Fog had grounded the plane in Chicago turning a relatively straightforward eight-hour trip into a two-day ordeal. He’d never yet figured out how to sleep on airplanes. Not a real plus for somebody whose job required constant travel.

      But he was finally home. Or as close to a home as anything he’d ever known.

      As he stood gazing at the big old house, a pang of sadness hit him that was as vicious and intense as his bullet wound.

      His grandmother was gone.

      He hadn’t even made it home for her funeral, her death had occurred so quickly. Not that she’d have wanted him there, but he’d have liked to have been for his own sake. They’d seen each other a few months back when he’d come to visit between assignments. Had she seemed more frail?

      Worse, had she known her end was near and not told him?

      He shook his head. No.

      At eighty-eight his grandmother had impressed him as being mentally as sharp as ever. She’d even chided him to hurry up and get married and give her some great-grandbabies before she got to a hundred. Naturally he’d told her the truth. That he’d never settle until he found somebody like her. Hadn’t happened in thirty-five years. He doubted it ever would.

      She’d laughed and told him he’d have to set his sights lower. He grinned at the memory. No. His grandmother definitely hadn’t planned on dying.

      Damn it. He was going to miss that woman.

      There were affairs to settle and likely some papers to sign. Right now though all he could think about was a huge glass of Pacific Northwest water, the kind you could drink straight from the tap, a long, hot shower, and sleep.

      Long, uninterrupted sleep in a real bed.

      As Rob hefted his pack and limped up the path he noted that somebody had swept the front steps recently and even planted blooming bushes in the brick planters.

      For early September the night was cool, but to a man who’d spent the past few weeks in the African desert, almost everywhere seemed cool.

      He couldn’t imagine who would have planted bushes, or why. His brain was way too tired to puzzle out such minor mysteries. Tomorrow. He’d think tomorrow.

      AS A REALTOR, HAILEY liked to think of herself as a matchmaker putting the right house together with the right buyer. As of today she had a new unattached single waiting for the right person to fall in love with it—a loft condo downtown that she’d listed this morning, thanks to a referral from a satisfied client. She was new enough to the business that every referral, every listing and especially every sale filled her with pride.

      Now she was ready to make another match.

      She had a gut instinct that the Bellamy House she was about to show Samantha and Luke MacDonald was going to be a fit. A real-estate marriage made not in heaven but in the offices of Dalbello and Company, where she worked fiendish hours to make her mark in a competitive business.

      Like any good matchmaker, she’d prepped carefully, hiring Julia to stage the faded but solid turn-of-the-century Craftsman and bringing in cleaners and a window washer. Hailey had planted cheerfully blooming winter kale and pansies at the entranceway in an effort to keep the buyers’ eyes from going immediately to the neglected garden. She wished she had the time and resources to do more, but this was an estate sale.

      Everything was as perfect as she could make it. The sun shining on the gleaming diamond-paned windows showed the gracious contours of the home that must have been a real showpiece in its day.

      The young couple scheduled to see the place arrived at eleven as scheduled. “I think you’re really going to like this one,” Hailey said, passing them a feature sheet. “It’s just come on the market and I immediately thought of you.”

      She unlocked the shiny black front door and light spilled into the foyer bringing out the gleam on the newly waxed

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