The Guy Next Door. Missy Tippens

was Darcy. He could tell her anything. “It’s true. Dad never once mentioned having me join his practice, even when I told him about other job offers.”

      Which had been the death of Luke’s dream—Jordan & Jordan, Attorneys at Law in the big Victorian house on Golden Street.

      Darcy laid a soft hand on his arm. “I can’t believe that.”

      “You know he doubted me every step of the way, which is why I plan to stay in Nashville.” Luke reached in the backseat and pulled out his luggage.

      “Then why ask him to join your practice?”

      “I’ve been worried about him, have been thinking for weeks about asking him to move closer. Figured a new start might help.”

      She sighed. “I understand your concern. I’ve been there with Mom.”

      “I also want to bring in a partner with experience, someone who’ll inspire confidence in the clients Roger is sending my way. I’d like to think Dad and I could work well together, especially if I get a chance to show him I’m capable.”

      As Darcy glanced at her watch, the sun shone on her hair, highlighting coppery strands that brushed well past her shoulders. Most of her life, she’d worn a ponytail. When had she started wearing her hair down? Had it been down the last time he saw her?

      “Time to head to the mall job.” Eyes so deep blue they sometimes looked violet sparked with frustration. “It doesn’t sound as if I’ll be able to change your mind about coming back home for good.”

      Luke shook his head. “I closed on the office building last week. Roger has sent out letters to all his clients informing them of his pending retirement, inviting those who haven’t yet worked with me to drop by.”

      Darcy frowned. “What about your grandmother? You really think she’ll move, too?”

      That part of his plan didn’t sit well with Luke. He hated to uproot Granny after she’d lived in Appleton her whole life. “I hope she will.”

      “If you ask me, dynamite couldn’t blast her out of her home.” Her eyes heated before she glanced away, angry. “But, you didn’t ask me.”

      “Come on, Darcy, be happy for me.”

      “If anyone can persuade Burt and Grace to move, it’s their beloved only child and grandchild.” Her gaze darted everywhere except directly at him, silently voicing her disapproval, pricking at his conscience.

      He hadn’t come home looking for approval, though. He’d come home with a goal to help his dad while securing his own future. And he intended to see his plan through.

      * * *

      Luke pushed aside his sadness with each step he took up the ladder leaning against his childhood home. He wouldn’t dwell on saying goodbye to the place where he’d grown up. The house was just brick and mortar, full of material stuff. He would always have the memories of his mom.

      Darcy would probably disagree. For some odd reason, their earlier conversation had left him rattled. Probably because he’d disappointed her. He’d always hated letting her down.

      “What are you doing up there, son?” Burt Jordan, home from the office, stood in the front yard in dress pants and a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up, arms crossed.

      “Trying to get a good look at the roof,” Luke said. “Probably needs to be replaced.”

      “Wish you would’ve talked to me before you bothered. I’ve got someone lined up to replace it next week.”

      Laughing, Luke climbed down. “Good. You’re jumping on repairs.”

      “Noreen has encouraged me to get out of my cave and start living again.” Burt held out his hand. “Welcome home.”

      Luke turned the shake into a brief half hug. “Thanks.” He pulled away and took a good look at his dad.

      For months after Luke’s mom died, Burt had sounded despondent on the phone. The past few weeks, though, he’d sounded stronger, more upbeat. Now, Luke saw a hint of the old spark in his dad’s eyes, the way he’d been before Joan got sick. Apparently Darcy’s widowed mom, Noreen, had helped Burt begin to deal with the loss.

      With a familiar stab of guilt over not being around much the past couple of years, he gave his dad one last pat on the shoulder. “I’m here to help with the house. Tell me what you need.”

      His dad winced, looking off in the distance, wrinkles crinkling around his brown eyes. He’d aged a lot since Mom’s passing. “Been meaning to talk to you about that.”

      “I saw the load of pine straw beside the house,” Luke said. “Want to spread some mulch while we talk?”

      “Sure. Let me change first.”

      Luke took the ladder to the garage and then located the wheelbarrow. In a few minutes, his dad reappeared in a pair of old jeans and a polo shirt—about as casual as he ever dressed. No faded T-shirts for Burt Jordan. In fact, he rarely wore jeans.

      Burt grabbed a shovel and two rakes and handed one to Luke. “Had that load delivered a few weeks ago. Haven’t had a chance to spread it.”

      Either that or he’d been so depressed he hadn’t felt up to going outside to work in the yard. “Let’s do it, then.”

      They filled the wheelbarrow and made several trips dumping piles of pine straw around the shrubbery and flower beds, spreading it as they went.

      “So are you still wanting to sell the house?” Luke asked.

      “Well, the thing is…” Burt raked pine straw around an island of azalea bushes with white blooms almost past their peak. “I’ve been having second thoughts.”

      Letting go of the house would be difficult, but if his dad changed his mind about selling, he probably wouldn’t consider relocating to Nashville.

      Luke stopped raking and rested his arm on the handle. “Is it because of memories of Mom?”

      Burt paused and stared off toward the house considering the question, as if unsure how to answer. “That’s part of it.”

      He’d never seen his dad indecisive, but that probably went along with the grief. “Has something changed since you told me you wanted to downsize?”

      A look of consternation drew Burt’s brows downward. “Selling the house feels so final. It closes the door to the past, and I’m not ready for that. I’d like to do something, first, that’ll be a testament to your mom, to show what Joan meant to us and to the community.”

      Without warning, Luke’s throat tightened. “Any ideas?”

      “Not yet, although, as active as she was, it shouldn’t be difficult. I’m sorry if I dragged you here too soon.”

      “Don’t apologize,” Luke said. “I want you to make the right decision for you.” And he meant it. No matter what happened with the potential move or partnership, Luke wanted his dad to be happy.

      “Life is fleeting,” Burt said. “I know I need to move on. I just don’t want to rush the process.”

      Luke pushed the wheelbarrow to spread mulch around the boxwoods in front of the house. “Six months isn’t long, and selling is a big decision. I get it.”

      Burt clapped him on the back. “Exactly. Noreen said you’d understand.”

      Why would his dad share his doubts with Darcy’s mother before he told Luke? The families had been close for ages…but still.

      Raking pine straw around the hedges, Luke covered dirt, the occasional weed and remnants of last year’s mulch. Noreen was just being supportive. She’d been a widow for a few years. Luke should thank her for being there for Burt. That was what neighbors in Appleton did. They looked out for each other.

      Neighbors…Darcy.