The Stroke of Winter(52)

“That’s right,” Wyatt said as they walked up the porch stairs. “Come on in and meet the girls.”

Wyatt opened the door, and they were greeted by two enormous malamutes, one black and white, one red and white. They had great smiles on their faces, and their tails were wagging furiously as they curled around their man.

“Luna is the black one, Maya is the redhead,” Wyatt said.

“They’re beautiful,” Tess said, marveling at Luna’s bright-yellow eyes. “And big.”

But not much bigger than Storm, Tess thought. They would make quite the trio. She wondered if they’d get along.

Tess looked around. The living room, just off the front door, was elegant but lived in. Wyatt definitely used those “front rooms,” as they were called back in the day. Many people didn’t. They had been saved for company. But Tess saw a book here, a coffee cup there, a sweatshirt thrown over a traditional wingback chair, slippers by the couch. Dog toys all but destroyed on the floor. This man lived in this elegant house. He didn’t tiptoe through it.

“Come on, girls,” Wyatt said. “Let’s get you out.”

Tess followed them through the house to the back door, just off the kitchen. Not unlike hers. She noticed the houses were very similar in layout and design—probably built during the same era, if not by the same builder, she thought.

Wyatt opened the back door, and the dogs scrambled outside. He filled their bowls from a big plastic bin in the corner of the room and topped off their water dishes. By that time, the girls were ready to come in for their supper.

All that handled, he turned to her.

“Glass of wine?”

“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

He reached into the fridge for a bottle and poured a glass for her and a beer for him.

“Let’s go into the den,” he said, leading her out of the kitchen through another door and down a back hallway. They emerged into an enormous room lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A heavy wooden desk sat at one end of the room, a black-leather sectional couch at the other, in front of a huge flat-screen television that hung above the fireplace. Two dog beds sat on either side. Tess noticed a couple of afghans strewn across a black-leather ottoman, along with a couple of books. A coffee cup sat on one of the end tables.

“I spend most of my time in here,” Wyatt said, sinking onto the couch.

Tess joined him. “I can see why. It’s really comfortable. The whole house is, Wyatt. It suits you perfectly.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling. “It’s home. I moved back in here about five years ago or so. Maybe a bit longer than that. I was just coming out of a divorce, and Pop needed a watchful eye on him.”

Tess settled back into the couch and took a sip of wine. “What kind of fool woman would let you go?” she asked, smiling at him. “You seem like a pretty great guy to me.”

Wyatt smiled, and Tess thought she caught a glimpse of a blush. “One who didn’t really like Wharton.”

Tess leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Wyatt said, shaking his head. “I needed to come back here for Pop, but I always knew I’d end up living here again. Wharton is in my blood, quite literally. I could have compromised by getting a vacation home up here and, I don’t know, spending the summers. But she didn’t even want to do that.”

“I’m astonished,” Tess said.

“I was, too,” Wyatt said. “And so let down. Yeah, there were other things wrong but . . . that was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.”

“Wow, unreal,” Tess said.

“She was more of a city person,” Wyatt said, sipping his beer. “I knew it from the start, too, if I’m being honest with myself. You can’t change people, no matter how much you try.”

“So, did you—” Tess stopped her thought in midair. She didn’t want to ask too much. It seemed intrusive.

“Yeah, I think I know what you’re getting at. We lived in the Cities and came here for vacations, which was fine to begin with,” Wyatt said. “But when my grandma died and Pop started going downhill, I knew I had to be here more.”

“And she wasn’t okay with that?”

He shook his head. “She never came with me. And as Pop needed me more and more, my visits got longer and longer. She stayed at work.”

“Could she have worked remotely?”

Wyatt raised his glass. “Yes, she could have. She just didn’t want to.”

“With your family history . . .” Tess said, afraid to finish the sentence.

“It was sort of crazy, wasn’t it?” Wyatt finished that thought. “I see that now. It made me realize we just couldn’t have worked, in the end. Family, roots . . .”

“It’s so important,” Tess said. “Eli’s dad didn’t really get it up here, either. He liked visiting, but I don’t think there was any way he would have agreed to live here full time.”

“When did you guys split up?”

“It’s been going on a decade now,” Tess said.

“Your son was how old?”

“Twelve.”

Wyatt winced. “That’s hard.”

“It was,” Tess said. “For both Eli and me. But we got through it. And Matt was great when Eli was hospitalized.”