It felt even better that the person telling her wasn’t thirty years older than her and condescending. So many people she’d come across since her parents’ death had been just that. You don’t understand. You’re not old enough to get it. Don’t worry your head. We’ll take care of it. Yeah, no one had come in and taken care of anything.

It scared her to think that nothing was going to happen, and now it appeared as if something might. If she had any energy at all, she’d be down at city hall during their meeting to advocate for her neighborhood. Instead, she’d use her time trimming trees and digging wells around them. What she really needed was a chainsaw and a chipper. Maybe she could rally a few of her friends with the promise of a free workout, pizza, and beer.

But her college friends were long gone. She’d dropped out of college and moved back home the day her parents had died. The friends she’d had then were around for the funeral but not the life she had to adopt to keep their family together.

That’s when Parker met Jennifer and Sam, and her circle of friends was less about happy hour and more about sippy cups for their kids and going to bed by ten.

She shook away the memories of her shared apartment in San Diego and a time when she could study TDH’s butt as he walked around her yard instead of concentrating on what he was saying.

She found a half smile on her lips. Colin did have a nice butt.

Parker opened her mouth wide with a yawn.

The wind chimes gently started to sway as a breeze moved through the air.

The last rays of sun shifted over the western sky leaving bright purple streaks on the horizon.

It really was peaceful, just like Colin had said.

Almost too quiet.

Even Bennie and the three remaining hens that no longer had a proper shelter were quiet.

The breeze picked up, which on any other day would be welcome.

Parker blinked away the dust flying through the air.

Ash, she reminded herself.

Almost two months after the fire, and she could still smell smoldering embers.

Or maybe that was her memory playing tricks on her.

Either way, the wind was making her relaxing evening on the porch uncomfortable.

She called the dog in and closed the sliding glass door behind them. Knowing sleep was necessary, Parker turned on the air conditioner and prayed the bill wasn’t going to be as bad as it had been the month before.

Skipping the chicken, she threw together a salad and finished her wine. After washing the soot and grime away in the shower, she fell into bed at half past eight. When had she grown so old that she was in bed, fighting to keep her eyes open, before nine?

Heaviness sat in her throat.

This isn’t supposed to be my life.

The thought brought moisture to her eyes. Instead of giving in to tears, she closed them and rolled to her side.

She fell asleep hard and woke up with a jolt.

Her heart was pounding, her body on edge.

The fire dream fled from her head when she opened her eyes to the hazy morning sun.

“Just a dream,” she told herself.

Her wind chimes crashed together, and the wind outside howled like a frustrated wolf separated from his pack.

Not wanting to get up, Parker rolled to her side and felt the cold, wet nose of Scout pressing against her arm. “What are you doing up here?” she asked him as if he would answer.

That’s right, Austin wasn’t home.

Scout normally slept with her brother.

The dog whimpered.

Parker grumbled.

Another gust of wind and she heard something on the patio scrape against the side of the house.

She gave up.

Tossing aside the covers, she climbed out of bed and walked barefoot to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker.

She rubbed the soreness in her shoulders and peered out the front window of the house. Everything was brown, the air, the hills, the trees. The Santa Ana winds were in full force. Branches from the dead trees littered what was left of the lawn. At least she wouldn’t have to trim them before tossing them in the trash.

Parker fortified herself with a cup of coffee before going outside to check out the pool.

Black.

The top was covered with leaves; the bottom had two inches of soot.

She wanted to cry.

CHAPTER FIVE

“It comes fully furnished. Utilities included.”

Parker walked around the nine-hundred-square-foot one-bedroom guesthouse.

“It’s cute.”

“My grandmother lived here before she passed.”

The woman she showed it to was only two years older than Parker. Single. No kids. Shoulder-length red hair that she couldn’t tell was natural or store-bought.

“She didn’t die in here, I hope.”

Parker shook her head. “Oh, no. She had a stroke and died in an assisted living facility.”

Erin Fleming turned a full circle before ducking into the bathroom.

“I can’t offer garage parking, but it’s safe to say no one will break into your car on the property. You have full use of the pool and the outside deck, barbeque . . . whatever you need.”

“It feels like the right fit.”

Parker shuffled from one foot to the other. The next thing she had to mention had scared off every prospective tenant she’d shown the space to. “Do you like to entertain?”

Erin tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean? Have parties?”

“Guests?”

“I’m new to the area. It’s hard to party when you don’t know anyone.”

“What about where you’re from?” Parker looked at the rental application she held in her hand. “Tacoma?”

“I’m an introvert,” Erin told her.

That sounded promising. “I hate to ask . . . it’s just that my brother is still in high school and the courts are strict about the kind of environment he’s exposed to. He turns eighteen in six months.”

Erin waved a hand in the air. “I’m looking for a quiet place to start a new life.”

“Right. About that.” She looked at the glaring empty space on the application under employment. “How do you plan on paying for the space?”

Erin moved to the front door and looked outside. “You can see on my application that I have plenty of finances to pay the rent. I’ll sign a lease and pay you six months in advance. If I haven’t found a job by the fifth month, I’ll give you notice and leave.”

Parker calculated the rent in her head. “Six months up front?”

“If you’ll rent to me.”

It sounded too good to be true.

“You only have one personal reference and no previous rental history.”

“I moved from my parents’ home, to college, to my boyfriend’s place.” She looked away and continued to talk. “My name was never on the lease.”

“The application doesn’t give me a lot to go on.” And from Parker’s research on renting out property, Erin was a risk. At least on paper.

Parker’s gut said she was fine.

“Does the pool always look like this?” Erin asked.

Looking at the thin layer of soot she hadn’t gotten to that morning made her cringe. “It’s a constant job since the fire. I can’t guarantee it will always be usable until after the wind gives us a break.”