The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(7)

Emmy’s head dipped backward as her eyes rolled heavenward. The child was petite despite her age, her diminutive size at odds with a big personality. She waved her hands at her pink floral swimsuit and sparkly flip-flops. “Girls wear pretty colors and dresses.” Then she scowled at Steffi’s footwear again. “And fancy shoes.”

“I suppose some girls do.”

“My mom does.” Emmy’s eyes filled with challenge.

Steffi couldn’t care less about Val or the woman’s clothes, but she knew how it felt to lose your mom before you’re ready. Steffi had been twelve; Emmy was barely nine and scared and probably in a whole lot of pain.

“I met your mom once.” Steffi reflected back six years ago when she’d bumped into Ryan and his young family at the town “Caroling on the Green” on Christmas Eve. Dainty but buxom, Val turned heads with her blonde curls that framed cool blue eyes and a sensual smile. “She’s very pretty.”

Emmy nodded, and Steffi could see little pools forming in her eyes. Shit.

“Hey, while you’re here, I could use some help.” She tossed the tape measure at Emmy, who seemed too surprised by the gesture to catch it. It clattered to a halt at her feet. “I’ll be blasting through this wall here, and I need to know how big the opening should be. Want to be my assistant?”

Emmy stooped to pick up the tape measure and then began playing with it. Tears gone. Mission accomplished.

“This whole wall?” she asked.

“That would be nice, except I’m pretty sure the stairs are right behind this part.” Steffi pounded on the wall. “I think I can only open up that side.”

Emmy stretched her skinny arms as wide as she could. “Like this?”

“Yes, about that wide.” Steffi pulled her notepad back out, pretending to take her seriously. “How many inches is that?”

Emmy stretched the tape measure the full span of her arms. Oddly, she rose onto her tiptoes while doing so, causing Steffi to cover another smile. Emmy then set the tool on the floor and squatted to read the markings. “Forty-nine and two little marks.”

Steffi pretended to write that down. “That’s a good size.”

Emmy smiled and pushed the tape back into the roll.

“Don’t shove it. Just press that black button and it will roll right up.” Steffi pointed.

Emmy squeezed it with both hands, grinning when the metal measure snapped back into place. She then pulled it out and snapped it back again.

“Don’t play with it. It’s a tool, not a toy.” She extended her hand. “I’ll take that back now.”

“How will you break the wall?” Emmy asked.

“With a sledgehammer.”

Emmy looked like she didn’t believe Steffi. “You can’t hammer down a whole wall.”

“I can with a sledgehammer. It’s this big.” She used her hands to estimate its length and the size of the head. “You need both arms to swing it.”

“Cool!” Emmy craned her neck to get a better look at Steffi’s tool belt. “Can I try?”

“We’ll see.”

“Emmy!” Ryan’s holler made its way outside before he did. He appeared, hair still damp from a shower, wearing khaki shorts and a formfitting gray T-shirt. He’d opted not to shave the little bit of stubble on his jaw. The shock of seeing him again, up close and personal, made every part of her body thrum. She held her breath, waiting to hear what else he would say. “What are you doing out here? I asked you to come help me unpack boxes after you finished cleaning the cookie mess.”

Emmy cocked her hip and crossed her arms. “I helped Miss Lockwood measure.” She gestured to the shingled wall. “We’re going to tear down this whole wall with a sledgehammer!”

Ryan slid Steffi a side-eye glare. “That doesn’t explain why you came out here in the first place.”

“She says you took her sailing, Dad,” Emmy replied, throwing the counselor’s interrogation offtrack. “Will you take me sailing?”

For a second, Ryan’s face paled. Steffi wondered if he was thinking of the picnics they’d packed, or the beer they’d sneaked, on the used 1980 Pearson 26—Knot So Fast—that Ryan’s dad had bought him for his sixteenth birthday. Eyeing his daughter, Ryan hitched his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. “March upstairs and shower. We can talk about sailing after you unpack your boxes.”

Emmy stomped her foot. Had she learned that from her mom, or did all little girls play that card? “You don’t have to yell.”

Ryan raised his arms from his sides. “I’m not yelling.”

Emmy tossed Steffi a “Can you believe this guy?” look, at which point Steffi gave up trying not to laugh at the tiny spitfire who would cause Ryan to gray prematurely.

Following a nonchalant shrug, Emmy sauntered inside, leaving Steffi alone with Ryan.

“What are you doing?” He peered at her with the same irritation he’d had when she’d accidentally bleached his soccer shirt. Funny how, despite the years and tears, his expressions were still so familiar.

“She came out here asking me questions about the past. What was I supposed to say?”

“How about ‘I’m sure your dad can answer that for you,’ or something like that?”