Provenance

by Carla Laureano

  And yet no sign of any personal correspondence.

  In fact, everything in the first two boxes save the furniture receipts was so prosaic it made her wonder why Connie Green had kept them in the first place.

  She pushed aside the first two boxes on the antique rug and drew the third toward her. Maybe this would be the one. She lifted the box lid off and pulled out a file folder, hoping that she would find anything but receipts: birthday cards, family photos, handwritten letters. Heck, she would take printouts of emails, though she’d seen no evidence that Connie had owned a computer. She flipped the cover open.

  Car insurance documents. From 2015.

  Kendall sighed and let her chin fall forward onto her chest. Maybe she was expecting too much. She dropped the file folder on top of the box and pressed her fingertips to her eyes, then immediately regretted it. Her skin felt grimy from handling old papers, and there wasn’t even any running water to wash her hands with.

  Her pulse began to pound behind one eye, a reaction she recognized as stress. She took in a deep breath, held it, and then blew it out through her open mouth with a sigh that ended up sounding more like a foghorn. It was something her childhood therapist had taught her. When she got stressed, afraid, or frustrated, she stopped breathing. Inhaling and exhaling deliberately, even ridiculously, released the tension in her diaphragm and started unknotting the tense muscles in her face, chest, and back.

  She was so focused on her loud exhalations that it took her a minute to zero in on the pounding coming from downstairs. She pushed herself to her feet and took the stairs down quickly, her brow furrowed. What in the world?

  She yanked the front door open, letting in a whoosh of cold air and snowflakes. Gabe stood there on the front porch, bundled up, stamping his feet. Framed by a wall of white.

  “Are you okay? Didn’t you see the weather turn?”

  Kendall wrenched her gaze away from Gabe to the near-whiteout conditions outside. “No! I’ve been upstairs with the heater and the lamp.” She hadn’t even thought to look out the window, too focused on her treasure hunt. She stepped aside to let him in and closed the door behind him. “How did you know I was here?”

  “As soon as it was obvious that the storm had changed paths and was going to hit us head-on, I started calling the local businesses to let them know we were rescheduling the Pumpkin Festival for next weekend. Delia asked me if you knew, because you were coming out here. Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

  Kendall patted down her pockets until she found her cell in the inside pocket. The screen showed five missed calls and as many texts. “I’m sorry. It’s on silent.”

  Gabe raked a hand through his hair, which she initially took as frustration with her but then realized was just a way to get all the snow out. “Grab your stuff. You can leave your rental here and we’ll get it later.”

  Kendall didn’t waste time asking questions, nor did she stop to consider the warmth in her chest. Gabe had been worried about her, and when he couldn’t get in touch with her, he’d driven all the way out here in the snow. She gathered her purse, turned off the heater, which she just now realized was only blowing air but not any actual heat—it must have run out of propane in the last few minutes—and grabbed the borrowed lamp. Downstairs, Gabe had his keys in his hand, shifting impatiently from foot to foot.

  “Ready?” he asked brightly, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his voice that made her stomach give a little flip.

  Kendall pulled her knit cap out of her pocket and tugged it down over her ears. “Ready.”

  Gabe grabbed her bare hand with his gloved one and helped her down the stairs, which were already covered in at least six inches of snow above a layer of ice. They slipped and slid down the walk to where Gabe’s truck was parked, still running. She didn’t protest when he helped her around to the passenger side before returning to the driver’s side. She couldn’t see anything through the layer of accumulated snow on the front windshield. “Are you sure we’re going to be okay?”

  Gabe turned on the windshield wipers and double-checked that she was wearing her seat belt. “I’ve got snow tires, four-wheel drive, and a winch. The road conditions aren’t really a problem. The issue is the visibility. But we’ll try.”

  He pulled away from the curb and methodically made his way up the street and back to the highway turnoff. Kendall tried to look unconcerned, but the first time the tires slipped, she lunged for the grab handle and held on for dear life.

  “This isn’t so bad.” Gabe’s words were meant to be reassuring, but the tension in his voice said something entirely different. They were going five miles an hour while only seeing about twenty feet in front of them, slipping and sliding on the sheet of ice that had formed early when the snow was still melting on contact with the road. She checked the temperature and saw it had dropped from thirty degrees to only eighteen. He glanced at her. “You okay?”

  “Eyes on the road,” she gritted out, but it really didn’t matter. From what she could tell, there was no road. Only the edge of the lake barely visible to the right of her told her they were going in the right direction. When they finally made it to the highway, her heart was pounding so hard she figured he could hear it over the growl of the diesel engine.

  Then a horrible metallic scrape came from the side of the truck. She whipped her head around, squinting to see outside. “What was that?”

  Gabe grimaced and slowed. “Snow marker.”

  “Like those poles for the plow drivers?”

  “Yeah.” He peered out the window, thinking. “Okay, I’m calling it. We’re going back.”

  “I thought that’s what we were doing. Going back to town.”

  “Going back to the house.”

  Relief that they wouldn’t have to brave the drive to town warred with anxiety over being snowbound with a virtual stranger. “But there’s no heat or water. And my propane ran out right before you got there.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I have supplies in my truck. The storm will blow out by tonight; if visibility improves, we might be able to get back this evening.”

  Kendall realized he was waiting for her agreement, though he was in charge and really didn’t need it. She nodded. “Okay. If you think that’s best.”

  “I do.” Carefully, Gabe made a three-point turn until they were facing their tire tracks. The snow was already drifting across them, but they were deep enough that they could follow them all the way back to the house. He parked in front and left the truck running. “Keys? I’ll bring the stuff in. You wait here where it’s warm.”

  Kendall handed over the house keys wordlessly and waited while he retrieved a backpack from the floorboards and a giant duffel bag from the back seat, then trudged up to the front door. The snow had only reached above their ankles when they left; now it was near his calf. That had to be what? Three inches an hour? This wasn’t a storm; this was a monster blizzard.

  A few minutes later, he reappeared and made his way to the truck. She had the ignition off and the keys out before he got the door open, not wanting to make him stand in the cold any longer than necessary. He helped her off the slippery running board to the equally slippery sidewalk and then up the front steps. “I put everything upstairs for now,” he said. “It didn’t make any sense to waste a warm room since you’ve been running the heater the whole day.”

  They stamped as much snow off their feet as they could before going up the stairs to Connie’s bedroom. No, this wasn’t awkward at all, stranded in her grandmother’s bedroom with a random guy.

  Except Gabe wasn’t really random anymore.

  The room was warm, helped along by the now-working heater. Gabe had hooked up a new propane bottle, but it was turned down low. “Just to keep the chill off. I’ve got two of these, but we need to conserve, in case we get stuck here overnight. I’m surprised the room didn’t lose more heat while we were gone.”

  “Triple-paned windows,” Kendall said. When he looked at her quizzically, she
waved at the boxes. “And here I was thinking all those receipts were useless. If our survival ever depends on basic home improvement information, we’re all set.”

  Gabriel chuckled. “I’m glad I had the foresight to stop and tell my grandfather before I came over.” He opened the backpack and produced a large thermal carafe and a Tupperware container. “Coffee and fresh banana bread.”

  “Did you plan on having a picnic here before we went back?”

  He threw her an amused glance. “No, I just figured I could distract you from road conditions with snacks.”

  “Probably true. Though I’m not sure it’s really enough to get us through tomorrow. I’m a girl who enjoys three square meals, if you hadn’t noticed. Well, two. I don’t think anyone else counts coffee as a meal.”

  Gabe reached into his pack and pulled out two foil packets. “I’ve got us covered. That is, if you like chicken curry or Swedish meatballs.”

  “But we don’t have any water.”

  Gabe sent a significant glance at the window, now completely white.

  “Oh yeah. Right.” She took a packet and flipped it over. “I guess this will be an adventure.”

  “An adventure with a fully stocked kitchen. I looked in the pantry and there’s still canned goods. I figured we’d be way more comfortable stuck here with real beds and some food.”

  “Good call.” Her eyes widened as she realized something. “What about the bathroom? No water.” She looked at the window. “I am not going out there.”

  “That’s easy. Toilets will still flush if you have water. Doesn’t have to come from the tank. Actually, I’ll be right back.” Gabe jumped up and disappeared. She heard him rummaging around in the kitchen, and then the back door opened and closed. A little while later, he reappeared in the doorway with two pails, both piled high with snow. He went to the attached master bathroom and set them down. “As soon as they melt, we can use the water for flushing and washing up and stuff.”

  Kendall stretched her legs out and leaned back against the edge of the bed. So far they’d both plopped on the floor as if not wanting to acknowledge the bed. The parlor would be far less awkward, but he was right. If they wanted to sleep tonight, they would be more comfortable with a bed, and heating more than one room was a waste of fuel.

  “So.” Gabe nodded toward the box. “What do you say we finish this up?”

  Kendall waved a hand. “Be my guest. I’ve been through two of the three and they don’t have anything interesting in them. I was hoping for something that would tell me what happened to my mom.”

  Gabe lifted the box’s lid and took out the folder Kendall had left on top. “Insurance.”

  “Yeah, I saw that one.”

  He put it aside and started on the second one, seemingly absorbed in his search. Kendall watched him silently. She’d noticed he didn’t shave very often, and the scruffy look suited him. His bright-blue eyes and fine features were almost too beautiful when he was clean-shaven. This way, in his down jacket with a heavy sweatshirt underneath and the boots she’d once thought were ridiculous overkill, he looked like the outdoorsman he actually was.

  He felt her gaze on him. “What?”

  “I was just thinking that you know a lot more about this survival stuff than I would have expected.”

  Gabe chuckled. “Just because I know you can flush a toilet by pouring water down it? That’s kind of common knowledge, especially if you’ve ever traveled outside the western world.”

  “Have you? Traveled, I mean.”

  He put the papers aside. “Europe after college. Morocco. Thailand. Hong Kong. You?”

  “I specialize in European antiques, so . . .”

  “Right. Not much need to go anywhere else. Not even for fun though?”

  “I’ve been working since I turned eighteen. I don’t have time for fun.”

  He stopped. “That might be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Why? I like my work.”

  “Yeah, but life isn’t all about work.”

  “It is when it’s all you have.”

  Their eyes met and held, and Gabe’s expression turned serious. “Kendall, what are you planning to do here?”

  She swallowed and felt something inside her retreat. “About the houses? I really don’t know. And don’t look at me like that; I’m being honest.”

  “Come on, you can’t tell me you don’t see the charm of the place.”

  “Of course I do! I can see the charm of a lot of places. But that’s not enough to throw away everything I’ve worked for. To you, this is home. To me, this is just the ghost of the past. A ghost that never wanted me to come back.”

  “Kendall, I know you’ve got a lot of hurt, but . . .”

  His conciliatory tone was more than she could handle. She pushed herself to her feet. “I’m going downstairs to see what there is to eat. You’ve got a propane stove in that bag, right?”

  He nodded and she held out her hand until he reluctantly produced a little case. She left the room, careful not to stomp her way down the stairs. That would be even more childish than leaving the room so she didn’t have to continue their conversation. The change in air temperature flowed over her as she descended. The kitchen was frigid, so she zipped up her coat and pulled on her hat and went to rummage through the pantry. Sure enough, there were several cans of soup that weren’t even too far past their use-by date. As long as they weren’t dented, they should be okay, right? Just to be sure, she left the clam chowder on the shelf and instead picked a beef stew and an Italian minestrone. The acid from the tomatoes should be enough to make sure they were good, or at least that’s what she guessed. She’d never really needed to know.

  It took a couple of minutes to set up the stove and figure out how to attach the propane bottle, but soon she had the beef stew bubbling in a small saucepan she’d found in the cabinet. Thank goodness she’d left all these things alone when she inventoried the kitchen. For the first time, she felt grateful for the house for reasons other than its value: it was a much better place to shelter in a snowstorm than a truck. Of course, if she didn’t have the house, she wouldn’t be out here in the first place, so that was a bit of a pointless thought.

  The resigned look on Gabe’s face was equally pointless to consider, but that wasn’t as easy to dismiss. He’d really wanted to talk to her and she’d walked away from him. She didn’t want to hear about how she should care about this town that had done nothing for her. But that wasn’t really true, was it? Delia had been concerned about her. Gabe had come out all this way for her when she didn’t answer the phone. Back home, there was no one who cared enough to look out for her like that. If Kendall didn’t come home, Sophie would just assume that she’d met someone or she’d gone to an after-hours party or even taken a quick overnight trip to track down a piece of furniture. She might send a text, but she wouldn’t go to any special trouble to find her.

  And the worst part was, that wasn’t even Sophie’s fault. It was Kendall’s. There was a time when Sophie had wanted that kind of relationship, thought they’d be BFFs, but Kendall had kept her at arm’s length. Friendly, fun, but never deep. Kendall had talked more about herself and her past to Gabe in a week than she had in the seven years she’d known Sophie. Heck, she’d probably said more to the group of girls at the cantina last night than she had to her roommate and coworker.

  Again, all her fault.

  Because if you didn’t let anyone in, you couldn’t be hurt by rejection. You couldn’t be disappointed. It was easier to be alone by your own choice than to have someone make that choice for you.

  But the feeling when someone cared about you? She hadn’t felt that since her foster mother cried at finding her in that little run-down park.

  Until now.

  Kendall swiped a tear away and poured the now-bubbling soup into a big bowl, then put on the second can to heat.

  She’d only known Gabe for less than a week, but he made her feel something she’d never felt with anyon
e else, whether they’d been around for a day or for a year. Safe. Safe enough to share her innermost feelings. Safe enough to be honest.

  So why was she fighting her obvious attraction to him? It was easy to pass off the electricity that shot through her hand when they touched as the cold, easy to say her breathlessness was because of her nerves over the situation and not because she wanted him to touch her again. If there were an Olympic event for denying what was plain in front of her face, she would win a gold medal.

  Because she was unmistakably falling for Gabriel Brandt.

  And she was screwing it up.

  The other soup was finally boiling, so she poured that into another bowl and shut off the stove. She wiped the pot out the best she could with paper towels she’d found in the pantry and used a leftover plastic shopping bag for trash. Of course, the first soup was now cold, but she would take that one and give Gabe the hot one. She grabbed a couple of spoons from the drawer and picked up the bowls and walked carefully up the stairs.

  Too late, she realized she couldn’t get the door open while juggling the soup, so she called, “Gabe?”

  The door opened immediately. He reached for the bowls, but she skidded by him and set them on the dresser, then spun. “Okay, so here’s the thing . . .”

  Gabe closed the door, puzzled by the strange opening line. What was she going to say anyway? Here’s the thing: I think I might be falling for you because you’re actually nice to me.