“It’s my pleasure.” Nick smiled, and two large dimples creased his cheeks.
Her guard back up, Cassie appraised him critically, but still, she had to admit, he was pretty attractive. With short, light brown hair, bright blue eyes, and tanned skin, he looked like he belonged in an outdoorsman commercial.
“I haven’t had such a captive audience since my sister and her boys were in town. They had me reading Dr. Seuss for hours,” he said.
Cassie realized she’d been staring. She shook her head and latched on to the most recent thing he’d said. “You’ve got nephews?”
“Yep, twin six-year-old boys. They’re a handful but a lot of fun. They live on the East Coast, though, so I don’t get to see them often.”
“That’s too bad.” She took a long drink of lemonade, and the book he’d just read caught her eye.
“Oh, I forgot all about this book!” She picked up the old Ukrainian picture book Bobby used to read to her as a child, her fingertips grazing the battered scene of a boy and a dog. She looked at him in disbelief. “You can read Ukrainian?”
Nick cocked his head in surprise. “Sure, can’t you?”
Cassie shook her head. “I never learned. And my mom was just telling me they didn’t have a Ukrainian school close to her, so she never learned.”
“It was really important to my Baba that I go,” Nick said. “Every Saturday morning, rain or shine. I hated it for a while, but it wasn’t so bad, really. I learned a lot about where she came from and my family history.”
Cassie frowned. “Bobby never really talks about Ukraine. Or her family. It’s always been a big mystery to us.”
“Well, there were some hard times in the old country, according to my Baba. It wasn’t an easy life. Maybe it’s painful for her to think about it.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Cassie said, already distracted by a new idea that had popped into her mind. “Do you have a second to read something for me?”
“Sure,” Nick said.
Cassie ran to her room and opened her dresser drawer. She grabbed the notes and picture, walked back down the hall, and returned to the living room, setting them on the table in front of Nick. “I’d love to know what these say.”
Nick furrowed his brow as he read the notes aloud. “Two cans of peas, side table. Three cans of sardines, south flower bed. One box of crackers, behind blue couch.”
He flipped the paper over and continued. “Dried cherries, small desk. Pickled beets, guest bedroom closet.” He looked up at her, his eyes wide, then paged through a few more of the notes. “They’re all like this. Food items and locations. What is it?”
Cassie shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
Nick’s smile quirked the corner of his lips, but he didn’t push. He then looked at the old picture and flipped it over. “Nothing on the back here but the date: September 1929. Pretty neat photo. Who is it?”
“I don’t know that, either.” Cassie tried to hide her disappointment.
“I like a good mystery,” Nick said. “If you need me to read anything else, let me know. I’m glad to help.”
She wanted to say: Can you wait here while I go steal my grandmother’s journal? You can read it to me so I can pry into her past to figure out what’s going on with her now.
Instead, she gave him a generic, “Thanks,” and struggled to pull something polite from her distracted mind. “So, um, you live down the street? How’s that going?”
“Yeah, in my Baba’s old house. It needs some updating, but it’s got a lot of potential.”
“That was nice of her to leave it to you.”
Nick looked down at his hands. “She was always looking out for me.”
“It’s what they do best,” Cassie agreed.
“Definitely. Well, thanks for the lemonade and cookies.” He stood and glanced around, then picked up the notepad Bobby kept by the phone. “I should get going, but before I forget, let me give you my number in case you need anything.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother you,” Cassie protested, but Nick had already started writing.
“It’s no trouble.” His blue eyes met hers, and the corners crinkled as he smiled. “We’re neighbors, right? That’s what neighbors do.”
He held out the paper, and Cassie’s fingers brushed his as she took it. She jerked her hand back, her skin burning from the contact. “Thank you.”