I'm Not Charlotte Lucas(57)

“Where’d you find the candle?”

“This is my grandmother’s house,” he reminded me. “But I can’t take much credit. It was on the counter already. The lighter too.”

I laughed, but my gaze was glued to the table. Had a guy ever done something like this for me before? I racked my brain but came up empty. That was kind of pathetic, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t men these days still be relied on to have a basic level of chivalry? Yet in my entire dating career, I couldn’t once remember eating by candlelight that wasn’t provided by a restaurant.

“You still chose to light it.”

His smile was warm, and I wanted to bask in it.

Liam pulled out a chair at the table and waited for me to be seated. I brushed past him and sat down. “You and Vera make a beastly team.”

“She’s a pretty great wingman,” he agreed, taking the seat across from me. “I’ll warn you now: she’s ruthless at Scrabble.”

“And I’m hopeless, so I won’t be much of a competition.”

He shook out his napkin and laid it over his legs. “The competition isn’t as important as the companionship.”

“True.” I lifted my lasagna-full fork to my mouth. My mom really knew how to cook. Too bad I didn’t inherit that trait. Or any good housewife traits, to be honest. But hey, I didn’t have to be a good housewife to count people’s money or create an employee schedule.

“How are things coming along with the office?” I asked.

“It should be ready to go by the end of next week, actually. Renovations took three times as long as I expected.”

“Sounds about right, then.”

He chuckled. “I’ll just be glad to have my own space again. I’ve been stuck sharing an office for the last few months, and I’m pretty sure both of my coworkers are sick of me now.”

“Doubtful. Who would be sick of you?”

He smirked at me above his bite of lasagna, and I dropped my gaze to my dinner. I wasn’t trying to push him away, but I was worried. History had proven that hot guys couldn’t be trusted. Why should Liam be any different?

***

“You really don’t want a malt, Vera? Or are you just trying to push me and your grandson together again?”

She looked at me through wry, tired eyes. “I really want to sleep, Charlie. But you can’t blame an old woman for trying to set her grandson up with a nice young woman. I just want to see him happily settled.”

“Terrible excuse,” I said, gathering a few fallen Scrabble pieces from the floor and dropping them into the box. “You said earlier that you think he might move to SoCal. I think that’s reason enough to keep my distance.”

A Scrabble piece caught my eye, and I got onto my hands and knees to reach for it under the bed. When I straightened, Vera was staring at me like I’d just performed a tap dance out of nowhere.

“If Liam does move to be closer to his brother, that is almost a year away. You have plenty of time to worry about it later.”

“You’re worrying about it now,” I countered.

“I’m his grandmother. I have license to worry as much and as often as I please.” She folded her hands on her blanketed lap. “I don’t have to be reasonable.”

I did though.

“Well, I’m going to make Liam the malt I promised him and then go home. I have to work in the morning. But can I get you anything else first?”

She shook her head, snuggling down into her blankets. “Janice will be here in the morning. I really don’t see what all the fuss is about, but quit your worrying. I won’t be left here alone too long.”

“Janice, your cleaning lady?”

“Yes. Janice, my cleaning lady.” Vera pulled her remote from the bedside table and turned on the TV. “She’s agreed to babysit me during the day while Liam works.”

I laughed. “It’s not babysitting. It’s being around in case you need anything. You can’t go downstairs by yourself yet, so please don’t try.”

“I won’t,” she said, watching the TV. “Believe it or not, I don’t wish to fall again.”

“I believe it.” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I plugged your phone in. It’s right here”—I gestured to the bedside table—“and I want you to call if you need anything at all.”

Vera agreed, and I left her in her room with a fresh glass of water, her phone charging, and the television tuned in to Friends reruns.

The clink of dishes being stacked punctuated the silence, and I paused at the base of the stairs, my gaze fixed on the blank wall space that had previously been inhabited by the Vienna Canal. Guilt swept through me. Was I really so pathetic that I couldn’t produce one painting?

“You okay?”

Liam stood at the end of the hall, a drying towel in one hand and a plate in the other.

“Let me help with those.” I followed him into the kitchen.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You didn’t have to wash the dishes,” I said. “I was planning to put everything in the dishwasher.”

He picked up another plate and dried it, tossing a grin over his shoulder and showing me his perfect, white teeth. “Now you don’t have to.”