A Secret to Shatter by Katie O’Connor
Chapter Nine
The first thing Honey noticed when she pulled up Ira’s long driveway the next morning was him sitting on his front step. He hadn’t purchased the house that rumor had said he was looking at. Instead, he’d told her he bought fifty acres, several miles north of town near the lake. He didn’t have waterfront property. He said trees and fields were more his thing than sandy beaches.
The house was an enormous pale blue two-story with stone trim. It was beautiful but way too big for one person. A family should live here. Five windows lined the upper level. Unless she missed her guess, that meant five bedrooms on the front and more on the back, unless the house was open concept at the back. The main floor had picture windows at each end. If the place were hers, she’d have them switched out for French doors which opened onto a wrap around deck. Ira sat on the cement front steps looking entirely too handsome and enticing in his fatigues and army green T-shirt.
“There you are,” he declared when she climbed out of the car. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind.”
“Sorry, I was tied up on a work phone call. You’re going to start thinking I’m avoiding you or I can’t tell time. Honestly, I’m not an airhead.”
“I hope some day you’ll trust me enough to tell me about your other job. Until then, come on inside. I’ve got muffins in the oven and coffee brewing. We’ll have a quick breakfast and hit the library. You can help me shelve books since I finally got the shelves up.”
“That sounds lovely. Your house is beautiful.”
“Thank you. It’s bigger than I wanted, but I saw it and fell in love.” He laughed. “I sound like a girl.”
“What? Men can’t love a house?”
“I suppose they can, but men typically don’t go all girly with their emotions. We’re more stoic.”
“Boo on men and their stoicism. Women want men who aren’t wimps, but aren’t afraid to admit they have feelings either.” She wrinkled her nose at him as they climbed the steps to go inside.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, sounding completely serious. “I started sorting through boxes when I got home last night. I didn’t get far. I can’t even decide if I want to categorize them, alphabetize them, or just put them on the shelf randomly. I get distracted every time I open a box.” He chuckled at his own weakness. “A couple months ago, I had no interest in anything beyond history. Now every time I open a box of books left by the previous owners, I got caught up in something else.”
“I can’t wait to see them.” She loved books. Her e-reader was full enough that she had to keep deleting books from it. Thank heaven for library services which allowed her to borrow books instead of buying them all. Print books were a passion she never permitted herself to succumb to. If she started buying hard copies, even used ones, she’d be broke in a week. She really needed to make more time to read. “Luck you, inheriting a library.”
“Initially, I was annoyed when I found all the boxes on the shelves in the basement.” He opened the front door and gestured for her to pass him. “I assumed they’d just left junk. There was a note. They had tried donating them to the local library. The library declined the donation as they don’t have the room. I planned on having them hauled away if I couldn’t find a good home for them.”
“But obviously you didn’t.” She paused inside to look at him, curious about what changed his mind.
“I opened the first box and discovered a couple first edition, autographed, history books. I knew then and there I had to search all the boxes. By the bottom of the second, I knew I was keeping most of them. I have a small pile for the Anglican church’s charity shop. Mostly duplicates. I’ll deliver them once I’ve finished digging through all the boxes. Come on, let’s grab a coffee and get started.”
Diverted from thoughts of a library, she looked around her. The foyer was enormous, almost as large as her bedroom. To her left an ajar door led to what appeared to be a walk-in coat closet. Ahead of her, at the end of a long carpet runner, were two wingback chairs. Who had chairs in their entryway? The floors were glistening hardwood, red cherry maybe? A curving staircase led upward to the second floor. At its base a hallway led left and a doorway right. Another hallway led straight ahead.
“This way,” he gestured again. “I usually eat in the kitchen as I’m not one for ceremony and the dining room is enormous. I’m debating putting my gym equipment there.”
“You would not,” she pretended to be aghast. She peeked down the hallway to see several doorways leading both left and right. Half of her wanted to sneak down the hallway and see where the doors led. The doorway across from the stair led to an almost empty living room.
“Not much on furniture, are you?” She stepped up to the doorway. The room inside held a big screen TV, a throw rug, a battered loveseat and leather recliner. There wasn’t a table in sight in the room which could hold triple its meager content.
“Give me a break, woman.” He laughed. “I’ve only lived here for two weeks. I haven’t had a chance to organize anything.”
“Admit it,” she teased, “you were distracted by building a library.”
He flushed ever so slightly. “You caught me. Plus, I’m working full time at the Bar 3. I’m out there virtually every day.”
“Don’t you get days off?” She followed him into an enormous industrial size kitchen with gleaming white cupboards, marble countertops and the tiniest kitchen table she’d ever seen. It was barely big enough for the two chairs flanking it.
“I do. I was hired to work five days a week, but everyone else works seven, so I show up and pitch in.”
“Generous of you, few would do that.” She wondered if he’d confess his relationship to the family, which, in her mind, at least partially explained his eager work ethic.
He shrugged. “I do what I can. Robert’s a good man and after his heart attack he needs to take it easy until he’s recovered.”
She smiled widely at him. He was kind and considerate. Two traits she greatly admired. Combined with his love of books, deliciously handsome face, and service to his country, he had the potential to be lethal to her heart.
“Come on,” she urged. “Let’s eat, then hit the books. Plus, I want a tour of your beautiful home. It looks magnificent from here.”
“You’re on.”