The Last of the Moon Girls

rarely set foot in a lab these days, spending the bulk of her time on conference calls or in meetings, collaborating with people who didn’t know a floral from an oriental.
Lizzy pushed the thought aside. She’d been incredibly lucky to catch the eye of Jaqueline Chenier straight out of school, and land a job most thought her too young and inexperienced to handle. She should be grateful—and she was. She absolutely was. But she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a certain wistfulness to being back in the barn.
Tools, she reminded herself sternly as she stepped away from the counter. She’d come for tools, not a walk down memory lane. She grabbed a pitchfork and was reaching for a hoe when a shadow darkened the doorway. She turned, startled to find Andrew silhouetted in the opening.
“You shouldn’t be in here.”
She stared at him, pulse skittering. “That’s the second time you’ve snuck up on me today.”
“I didn’t sneak up on you—then or now. And I’d appreciate it if you’d put that thing down. You’re making me nervous.”
Lizzy glanced down at the pitchfork she was holding, dismayed to find it pointing straight at Andrew, as if she were preparing to run him through. She lowered it slowly, annoyed with herself for being so skittish. “Did you need something?”
“Yes, I need you to come out of there, please. It isn’t safe.”
Lizzy performed a quick scan of the barn, finding nothing that looked remotely hazardous. “What do you mean, it’s not safe? It looks fine.”
“Well, for starters, this door is about to come off its hinges. You’re lucky it didn’t flatten you when you opened it. And there”—he paused, pointing to the apex of the roof, where a slice of sunlight was visible through a chink in the boards—“we had a storm back in April, pulled up part of the roof, and damaged several trusses. Plus, the loft and stairs are ready to give. That’s not from the storm, just good old-fashioned dry rot. New England barns are built to last, but not forever. Also, we had a colony of bats last summer, and they tend to come back.”
Lizzy eyed him as she edged toward the door. He smelled of amber and sandalwood, of crisp fall days with the hint of smoke underneath. The combination caught her off guard—not flagrant, but subtly masculine, nudging at memories she preferred to keep buried. He had always smelled like that. Always.
She tipped her head back, noting the smear of caulk in his hair as she sidled past. “Bats don’t scare me. In fact, I find them rather cute. But I draw the line at collapsing roofs.”
Andrew followed her out, easing the door closed behind him. “It’s on the list.”
“The list?”
“Things I promised your grandmother I’d do. I wanted to get them done before . . .” He looked away, shoulders hunched. “I ran out of time.”
Lizzy swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Me too.”
“She was quite a lady, your grandmother. I had just started working when my father was diagnosed. I was new to the firm and had just landed this big project, so he kept it to himself. Didn’t say a word about being sick until the very end. But your grandmother knew—or guessed. She cooked for him and kept the house clean, drove him to treatments, and made him this special tea to ease the nausea. Stubborn old goat. I didn’t find out until the doctors pulled the plug on his chemo. But Althea was there for all of it. I owe her for that.”
Lizzy managed a fleeting smile, a mix of pride and grief. “Althea didn’t tell me she was sick either. I didn’t find out until she was gone.”
“I wondered why you didn’t come to see her. I’m sorry. I know it’s hard. I was furious with my father for not telling me, but he honestly thought keeping me in the dark was the right thing to do. Your grandmother must have thought so too.”
Lizzy pretended to study the barn door, eager to change the subject. “It’s nice of you to want to help, but the new owners will probably have their own ideas about what to fix.”
Andrew stiffened. “You sold the farm?”
“Not yet, but eventually.”
His shoulders seemed to relax, though not completely. “Yeah. About that. There are a few things you should know.”
“Such as?”
“The place is going to need work before a bank will think twice about financing, and I’m not talking about a coat of paint and some tulips in the window boxes. The house wiring’s tricky on a good day, and the plumbing isn’t much better. The furnace is hanging by a thread, and every roof on the property needs replacing.”
Lizzy stared down at the toes of her boots, registering this unwelcome bit of news. One more complication she hadn’t planned for. And couldn’t afford. “I had no idea things were that bad. I don’t suppose any of that’s going to be cheap. I’m not exactly rolling in cash.”
Andrew shot her a crooked smile. “I’m afraid not. But I know a guy. Friend of the family. Lives close by. Will work for food and the occasional kind word.”
Lizzy squared her shoulders. “Thanks, but I couldn’t accept that. A few panes of glass is one thing, but I can’t let you rewire the house and redo the plumbing.”
“Historic renovation is sort of my thing. Why not let me help?”
Lizzy held up a hand, cutting him off. “No. Thank you. I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can find a cash buyer to take the place as is.” She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. “I don’t mean to sound callous, but why would you want to waste your time? We hardly know each other.”
He offered a half smile and a bit of a shrug. “Because I told your grandmother I would, and a promise is a promise. I owe her.”
“You can’t owe her. She’s gone.”
“Then I guess I owe you.”
Lizzy found herself at a loss for words. She couldn’t help thinking