“Henry Dale Macabee. Likewise. Do you know anything about jigsaws?” The handshake was firm but not to the point that Henry Dale appeared to be compensating for something. Just a polite handshake, no more, no less.
“They’re best used for curves,” he answered.
Henry Dale nodded as if Eli had passed a test. “If I decide to take on that gingerbread, I’ll need a hand. I’m not so nimble these days.”
If he hadn’t noticed the rotten trim outside himself, that declaration might not have made sense. “Just let me know.”
Why am I here? Offering to help an old man update Iris’s house?
“Will do. I’m off to the shed.” With that baffling assertion, the older man let himself out the back door and left Eli staring at Iris.
“He’s okay,” she offered. “A bit abrupt in his manners and rough around the edges. I don’t think he likes people very much.”
Eli surprised himself by saying, “Sometimes I don’t either.”
Iris laughed. “We all have those days, I suspect.”
For him, it was more than that. After his shape-shifting ability kicked in, he’d wondered if his solitary hawkish nature was bleeding through, leaving him predisposed to silence, to those rare and lofty heights where he was alone on the perfect wind stream, carried ever higher and farther from humanity. For some reason—with Gamma moving on—this felt like his last chance, and he didn’t even know why.
Last chance for what?
His brain wouldn’t cooperate. Just being in the kitchen with her made him anxious. His heart fluttered as he produced the rental agreement. “I signed both copies. I brought one for your records.”
“Ah, right! Thank you. I’ll…file this.”
It was adorable because it was so obvious she had no clue what she was doing. Eli could relate. When he’d bought the cottage as a vacation house in Myrtle Beach, it blew him away to realize he was responsible for everything from roof to floor tiles. No landlord to call. Just me.
He opened his mouth to reassure her, then realized he wasn’t supposed to know about homeowner issues and wound up saying, “Do we have laundry facilities on site?”
“Oh! I should have told you already. And Henry Dale too. But your clothes are probably clean for now. Who moves with a sack of dirty laundry?” She gave a laugh that sounded nervous to Eli, and his heightened senses—even in this form—picked up a certain quiver in her tone.
Something about Iris struck him as…different from other people. Not the energy of another shifter, no tingle of witchy magic, but she didn’t smell human either. Eli couldn’t pin down exactly what made Iris unique, and his curiosity brightened to unbearable intensity.
Eli needed to know her better. To know her and learn her secrets. Maybe then he could let her go.
“Then where…？” he prompted, referring to the laundry room.
Her cheeks flooded with color, and he bit back more comforting words. Now that he’d spent a little time with her as an adult, she no longer seemed as strong or fearless as she had when they were children. Did life siphon away her spirit? If that was true, it seemed like a crime.
“Down here.”
Multiple doors led out of the kitchen. One opened to a mudroom with steps heading down. The basement was perfect for filming a horror movie, complete with skeletal stairs, stained cement floor, and exposed pipes and wiring. In the corner, he spotted the washer and dryer—old, bulky, and dinged up from years of use. Judging by the dials, these machines had to be twenty or thirty years old.
“Do they still work?”
Iris bit her lip and shrugged. “I presume so, but to be honest, I haven’t done laundry yet. I let it pile up because I’m dreading the long haul from attic to cellar and back again.”
“I can carry it for you,” he offered.
She stared at him. “Uh, why?”
He shrugged. “Because you don’t want to.”
“And I’m sure you’re dying to lug someone else’s clothes.”
“It’s good cardio.”
She laughed, evidently not realizing he was serious. “You’re funny. Anyway, feel free to use the machines anytime. If they still work.”
Eli peered at the brands. “Does Westinghouse still make washers and dryers?”
“I have no clue. I’ve never bought a major appliance. And the ones that came with the house will need to be nurtured.”
He liked that word, liked it a lot. And he liked that she didn’t immediately plan to gut the place. Sure, some of that prudence probably stemmed from being strapped for cash, but he pictured Iris as someone who cared about the mark she left on the world. She was the type to repurpose instead of discard whenever possible.
“Is the stove gas or electric?” Eli asked the question, not really caring about the answer, but it served to keep her with him a bit longer.
“It’s gas. I was so glad when I first arrived. The power had been cut off, and I thought I’d be taking cold showers until I got it turned on. But apparently the hot water heater is gas too. The tank is on the small side, so we’ll need to stagger our showers. I should probably consider a bathroom and laundry schedule—”
“It’s probably okay for now,” he cut in, seeing that she was getting stressed over all the little details.
Letting out a breath, she nodded with a grateful smile as they went back upstairs to the kitchen. “This is all new to me. I’m not great at…being in charge. But I’ll worry about it when the rest of the rooms are rented.”
“You’re doing fine.”
She blinked, gazing at him in wonder. “Am I?”
“Sure. My room is comfortable, everything is clean. And the bathroom is quite a unique experience. I’ve never seen a pink toilet before.”
For some reason, Iris burst out laughing. “Purple house. Pink toilet. What was Great-Aunt Gertie thinking?”
Eli smiled. Not because he understood the joke, but her amusement was infectious. “It was a different time?”
“I guess so. By the way…”
He listened as she filled him in about a communal fund for cooking oil, coffee, and the like, then instructed him to label his food. Frankly, he wasn’t worried about someone eating his protein bars or quaffing his canned beverages, but he nodded all the same.
“Anyway, that’s about it. I hope you like living here and that we’ll get along.”
“Me too,” he said.
It was difficult to imagine anyone not getting along with Iris, actually. She radiated a cartoon princess vibe. If she sang out in the yard, mice and squirrels and bluebirds would perch on her shoulder. Suddenly, they were just…staring at each other. Not speaking. Just staring. He was barely breathing, and she—
“I can definitely work out there,” Henry Dale said, stepping into the kitchen. “It wants tidying up, but that’s work I can do as well. And somebody left a really nice tool set. It’s a wonder nobody’s carted them off. Shed wasn’t even locked.”
“That’s St. Claire for you,” Iris said.
“Did you grow up here?” the older man asked.
Eli knew the answer, even as Iris shook her head. “No, my great-aunt lived in town. I inherited her house after she passed.”