“You don’t know that though, do you?”

“No,” David replied honestly. “But I certainly hope so.”

She rubbed her arm across her face. “Thanks.”

“So can I come?”

She smiled up at him and nodded.

Chapter 7

LAUREL WAS LOUNGING ON THE COUCH WHEN THE doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” she called. She opened the door and smiled at David in his black tee over bright yellow board shorts. “Hey,” she said, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door shut behind her. “How was the party?”

David shrugged. “Would’ve been more fun with you there.” He hesitated. “How are you?”

Laurel looked down at the ground. “I’m okay. Same as this morning.”

“Does it hurt or anything?”

She shook her head.

She felt his hand trace down her arm. “It’ll be okay,” he said softly.

“How’s it supposed to be okay, David? I have a flower growing on my back.

That is not okay.”

“I meant, we’ll figure something out.”

She smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. You came over to be nice, and I’m just—” Her voice cut off as bright headlights flashed across her face. She held a hand up to block the glare and watched a car pull into the driveway. A tall, broad shouldered man stepped out and began walking toward them.

“This the Sewell residence?” His voice was low and gravelly.

“Yeah,” Laurel said as he stepped into the light on the porch. Laurel wrinkled her nose involuntarily. His face didn’t look quite right. The facial bones were sharp and rugged and his left eye drooped. His long nose looked like it had been broken a few times without being set correctly, and even though he wasn’t sneering, his mouth was set in a permanent look of disappointment. His shoulders were enormously broad and the suit he was wearing looked out of place on his bulky form.

“Are your parents home?” the man asked.

“Yeah, just a sec.” She turned slowly. “Um, come on in.”

She held the door open and both the man and David stepped through. As the three of them stood in the entryway, the man sniffed, then cleared his throat.

“You have a bonfire or something today?” he asked, looking critically at David.

“Yeah,” David said. “Down at the beach. I was in charge of lighting it, and let’s just say there was a lot of smoke before there was any fire.” He laughed for a second, but when the man did not even smile, he fell silent.

“I’ll go get them,” Laurel said hurriedly.

“I’ll help,” David said, following her.

They walked into the kitchen, where Laurel’s parents were having tea.

“There’s a guy here to see you,” Laurel said.

“Oh.” Her dad set his teacup down and marked his place in his book. “Excuse me.”

Laurel lingered in the doorway, watching her dad. David’s hand was at the small of her back, and she hoped he wouldn’t move it. It wasn’t precisely that she was afraid, but she couldn’t shake a hovering sense that something wasn’t quite right.

“Sarah,” her dad called. “Jeremiah Barnes is here.”

Laurel’s mom put her teacup down with a loud clatter and hurried past David and Laurel to the front door.

“Who’s Jeremiah Barnes?” David asked under his breath.

“Realtor,” Laurel answered. She looked around. “Come here,” she said, grabbing David’s hand. She pulled him to the stairs behind the couch where Mr.

Barnes was taking a seat. She tiptoed up a few steps, just out of sight. She let go of David’s hand, but as they sat, he laid his arm across the stair behind her.

She leaned in a little, enjoying the feel of him beside her. It chased away a little of the unease that had been building since Mr. Barnes drove up.

“I hope you don’t mind me just dropping by,” Barnes said.

“Not at all,” Laurel’s mom said. “Could I get you a cup of coffee? Tea? Water?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Barnes said.

His deep voice set Laurel’s whole body on edge.

“I had a few questions about the origins of the property before we submit our official offer,” Barnes said. “I understand it is family land. How long has it been in your family?”

“Since the gold-rush days,” Laurel’s mom said. “My great-some-odd-grandfather claimed the land and built the first cabin there. Never found gold, though.

Everyone in my family has lived there at one time or another ever since.”

“No one ever tried to sell it?”

She shook her head. “Nope, just me. I imagine my mother’s turning in her grave, but…” She shrugged. “As much as we hate to see it go, there are more important things.”

“Indeed. Is there anything…unusual about the property?”

Laurel’s parents looked at each other then shook their heads. “I don’t think so,”

her dad said.

Barnes nodded. “Have you had any trouble with trespassers? Strangers trying to squat there? Anything like that?”

“Not really,” Laurel’s dad said. “We occasionally have people take walks across the land, and we see people here and there. But then, we’re right up against Redwood National Park; we don’t have a fence and we don’t post any warning of property lines. I’m sure that if you did, you wouldn’t have any trouble.”