“A very particular style. Good luck finding anyone to buy it.”
Zach jerked, and Noah choked his hand to staunch his retort.
“You bought it,” Zach spat.
Fail.
“It complements the house. Here it looks wonderful. But think, how many houses with this level of character exist? Your market is very small.”
“You’d better keep it then, hadn’t you.” Noah said, forcing his voice flat and even.
Mrs Ferrars’ voice trailed from the hall and then, with a swift step, Wade entered the room. His dark gaze surveyed the situation, lingering a split second on Noah. He looked calm. Easy-going in his oil-stained jeans and Trust Me I’m A Mechanic shirt. The tension in Noah’s shoulders immediately began to dissipate.
Wade settled on his sister. “Started without me? I wanted to help.” He turned to Noah and Zach. “Hey. I figured there’d be nothing here so I brought some tea and stuff. Can I get you anything?”
“Got any Absinthe?” Zach asked. “Or Vodka might do the trick.”
Noah knocked a warning bump against his shoulder. “Tea would be great—the china just there’s been checked already. Maybe Zach can help you.”
Understanding flashed in Wade’s eyes. “Absolutely. Zach, you can show me how you like it.”
Zach shook his head but kissed Noah’s cheek and followed Wade to the kitchen.
Mrs Ferrars joined her daughter to inspect some more. They each grabbed hold of a candlestick and started blowing on it, rubbing vigorously as if to suggest they weren’t cleaned well enough.
He hoped they weren’t.
Next on the list: the orange vase.
“I don’t see that here,” Francesca said.
Time to come clean—
Wade rushed into the room with a teacup and handed it to Noah.
Noah startled at the rush and blinked down at the empty cup. What—
“Can I help in here, sis?”
Francesca’s lips flattened. “I was just asking Noah where the Lalique vase is.”
Wade snapped his fingers. “Orange one?”
“Ochre.”
“I think I saw that upstairs. I’ll check.”
Noah twisted toward Wade, who held himself with confident ease before his sister’s put-out scowl.
“Please do. I need to inspect it.”
Wade inclined his head, sneaking a wink at Noah on his way out.
What exactly was Wade doing? There was no vase to bring down. The only way out of this was to admit the truth and bear the consequences.
Mrs Ferrars pursed her lips, and Francesca spoke. Unease shadowed their expressions. “My brother is . . . kind. Too kind for his own good.”
The message was clear. Don’t go thinking he likes you because he offered you tea and kindness.
Mrs Ferrars butted her cane against the hardwood floor. “He’ll spoil his wife, he will.”
“I’m sure,” Noah said evenly, “whoever he ends up with will be very lucky.”
“He’s been calling Grace a lot this week,” Mrs Ferrars said. “I have a feeling they’ll get back together.”
A sprinkle of sympathy had Noah smiling sadly.
Abovestairs, Wade yelped and something shattered.
The air thickened in the room and Noah breathed it in, feeling a funny ache in his chest.
“Wade? WADE!” When there was no response, Francesca started for the door.
Wade re-entered carrying a brush and shovel full of ochre shards, apologising profusely.
Noah blinked at the shovel, and then at Wade, who had his eyes firmly on his sister as he explained his ‘accident’.
How had he . . .? Those bits of orange glass had all the markings of the vase Noah had destroyed a week ago. The vase he’d shovelled up and emptied into the trash.
“Completely my fault,” Wade said.
Francesca grimaced, scanned her clipboard, and made a reluctant tick. “Next, the bone-handled silverware.”
Noah pretended to drain his teacup. “Thank you for this, Wade.”
Wade held his gaze. “The least I could do.”
Zach sniffed, staring morosely at the painting tilted against the table leg. Them, in the backyard.
Noah, quelling his own rising sorrow, smiled stiffly. “I wish you many happy memories here.”
Wade watched them from behind Francesca, his dark eyes looking moist. He rubbed the back of his neck.
Noah’s smile gentled on him. He’d helped so much already.
Francesca picked up her clipboard. “Better hurry if you want to make the last bus.”
Noah extracted his brother from their old home, shivering sadly as he followed the Ferrars’ out and crossed the threshold for the last time. The sound of the lock as he turned the key held a deep finality.
At the bus stop, Wade caught up to them, jogging. “I’m sorry. For their . . . on their behalf.”
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”
“I wish there was something I could do.”
Zach caught Noah’s eye and paused. “Noah needs to drop the keys to the lawyer before the settlement on Monday. Give us a lift? It’d really help.”
Wade glanced over his shoulder and his voice dropped to a hush. “I can’t right now, but . . . I’m free tomorrow?”
Noah, too, glanced at the house. He fought a queasy flip in his stomach. “Are you sure? We have some viewings set up and we need to make sure they’re easy to reach by public transport, so—”
