Sitting down to her meager breakfast, she knew she would become hungry soon but had no desire to cook for just herself. She was not even sure she could choke down the toast past the lump that had settled in her throat since the moment she had found Papa Beau lying near the fence.
Lost in her thoughts, she jumped at the sound of a knock on the kitchen door. The way the house was situated, the front door was rarely used and the welcoming kitchen door was next to the drive. Gritting her teeth, she considered not answering it, having no desire to play hostess to more of the well-meaning church ladies. But, with the radio blaring, it was obvious that she was home. Dropping her chin to her chest, she sucked in a deep breath before moving to the door and flinging it open.
Expecting to see several gray-haired women, she blinked in surprise at the man standing before her. For some reason, her gaze dropped to his feet, finding shiny black shoes, so different from what her grandfather’s old, scuffed work boots looked like. Her gaze traveled up his legs, his muscular thighs encased in dark blue pants. His abs were trim leading up to wide shoulders, all covered in a tailored, light blue, neatly-pressed shirt, a navy print tie knotted perfectly around his neck.
But it was his face that caused her gaze to stutter to a halt. Strong jaw, neatly shaven. Full lips with a tiny scar running through his upper lip. And sky-blue eyes. She blinked again, her hands still on the open door, and tilted her head in silent question.
“Lizzie?”
Jerking slightly, she nodded. “And you are?”
His lips curved ever-so-slightly as he introduced himself. “I’m Scott. Scott Redding. I was your grandfather’s accountant, and I just came by to offer my condolences.”
It took several seconds for his name to register, then recognition hit her. “Oh, yes.” She shook her head slightly, remembering her grandfather’s opinion of the young accountant. ‘Oh, Lizzie, Scott has some wonderful ideas for the farm.’ ‘I’ve just been into town, Lizzie, and met with Scott. He’s a smart boy, that one.’
“I began to wonder if Papa Beau was going to adopt you.”
She watched as Scott blinked, and she rushed to explain. “Every time he came in from a meeting in town or the American Legion, he was full of effusive praise for you.”
His shoulders visibly relaxed. “I was very fond of him as well. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you. I lost my grandfather a few years ago, but he and I never had the chance to work together like you and Beau did.”
His warm voice soothed over her, and she witnessed the crinkle between his brows and the way his gaze held hers. She lifted her hand and rubbed her forehead, willing the pain to subside. Suddenly aware that she looked bedraggled next to his dapper appearance, she added, “Thank you for your condolences. I realize at some time I’ll need your services, but, for now, I fear I’m not up to discussing what needs to be done.”
If he was surprised at her dismissal, he did not react. Instead, he inclined his head slightly and said, “I understand. We can set up a time to go over the estate taxes. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.” He glanced over his shoulder, then turned back and added, “I can certainly help with some of the chores around the farm and—”
A snort slipped out at the thought of the professionally-dressed accountant attempting to corral the goats. “I… uh… that’s not necessary. I have my routine with the animals, and they’re used to me. But thank you… um… I’ll call to set up an appointment.” She stepped back and closed the door, hating to appear rude but afraid if she did not sit down, she might fall down with fatigue. She tip-toed toward the sink and peered out the window. She watched as he sighed heavily before turning and walking toward his vehicle parked to the side of the house.
Instead of climbing in immediately, he stood, hands on his hips, and stared out over the farm for several minutes. She had no idea what he was thinking, but curiosity held her attention as she continued to watch out the window.
He walked over to the first fenced pasture. Caesar ambled toward him, and her breath caught in her throat as she battled the need to rush out and keep the errant alpaca from trying to take a bite out of her visitor. She watched in surprise as Scott lifted his hand toward Caesar, and instead of nipping at his fingers, Caesar leaned forward and sniffed. Scott then smoothed his hand over Caesar’s head and down his long neck.
The bizarre sight of the dapper accountant standing on the dusty path next to a barbed-wire fence lined with weeds and petting the large alpaca sent a strange emotion moving through Lizzie’s chest. The heavy weight that had pressed down upon her since finding Papa Beau lying on the ground was still present, but ever-so-slightly lighter.
With a final pat, Scott walked to the other side of his SUV and climbed inside. Unable to tear her eyes away, she watched as he turned around on the gravel drive and pulled out onto the road. She stood motionless at the kitchen sink for several more minutes, her mind swirling and her heart aching. Her stomach growled its protest from only having coffee and toast.
Pulling open the refrigerator door, she reached inside and grabbed one of the casseroles, unheeding its contents. Nuking it in the microwave, she sat down at the table with a glass of water and ate on automatic pilot, not tasting the food.
Alone. All alone.
Glancing into the rearview mirror as the large, white farmhouse slowly disappeared from view, Scott shook his head. Well, that was a disaster. Mentally kicking himself over his choice of clothing, he had assumed that showing up in his business clothes would be a sign of respect. But it had made him appear pompous, and even though his offer to help was sincere, she viewed him as unable to help on the farm.
The sight of her had given him pause, although he had to admit he had no idea what he’d expected. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but that was normal with someone who had most assuredly cried a great deal recently. Her complexion was clear although pale, even though she worked in the sun. A ball cap covered her hair, and even though he could not see the back of her, he assumed the blonde tresses were pulled into a ponytail. Her clothes had a bit of dirt on them, and considering that she was standing in her socked feet, he assumed she had left her boots at the door when she came in from her morning work.
Standing so closely, he could see that her height brought her to his shoulders. Her jeans fit snugly over her hips and long legs, but the unshapely shirt hid her curves. Growling aloud, he chastised himself for thinking about her curves when she was clearly upset.
Sighing again, he could not keep the vulnerable expression on her face out of his mind. He admired the steel in her spine and the proud lift of her chin as she declared her independence, but her blue eyes held a sea of pain.
He wondered about the women’s offer to help and hoped it would be well-received. Ten minutes later, he parked along the street in front of the McFarlane–Redding Accounting offices. Stalking in, he nodded toward Mrs. Markham and headed directly to Lia’s office.
Glad that she did not have a client, he knocked on the doorframe before walking straight into the room and plopping onto one of the chairs in front of her desk. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he sighed.
“I get the feeling that your visit with Lizzie did not go so well,” Lia said, closing the file on her desk and giving him her full attention. “What happened?”