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“He didn’t say that.” I take a sip of coffee.

“He came close.” Birdie leaves Murphy to his nap and studies me. “Did you sleep?”

“Some.” I turn the mug between my hands. “I woke every time I thought I heard a car on the drive.”

“No car came up the drive,” she says, her teasing gone.

“I didn’t know that until I looked.”

She comes to stand beside me at the window. For a while, we watch the harvest crew without speaking. Birdie knows I checked my phone before I said good morning to Murphy, and I know she did the same before she came downstairs.

“Reid called the guesthouse earlier,” Birdie says, watching a tractor make its way down the hill. “There’s no news from the investigator yet. Drew has people checking the Seattle address from the loan files, and Harris is at the bookstore.”

“Did Reid call to tell you all that, or did you ask?”

“He called to see if we’d eaten. I asked about the rest.”

“He called about breakfast?” I look at her.

Birdie tucks the end of her braid into her sweater. “He also remembered I take cream and one sugar.”

“You’ve known him for two days.”

“Apparently, I made an impression.” She tries to sound casual, but she’s smiling.

“You questioned him about his own kitchen for half an hour,” I remind her.

“It needed explaining.” She picks a thread from her sweater. “There’s an old table in the lodge with a warped leaf. Tessa mentioned it when she heard what I do.”

“And you offered to repair it?”

“I offered to look. I’m capable of seeing damaged furniture without adopting it.”

My attention turns to the dust on her cuff. Birdie folds her arms.

“Fine. I went into a storage room with Sofia, but that doesn’t mean I’ve made a commitment.”

I smile before the familiar ache returns. Connor would have asked whether the table came with a contract, then calculated how long it would take Birdie to become indispensable here. He likes teasing her because she always gives him a better answer than the one he expects.

Birdie sees the change in my face and touches my shoulder. “Come outside with me. Mila said we can walk the grounds, and Drew assigned Benitez to stay near us.”

“You’ve planned my morning.”

“I’ve planned a walk. You can object to the route as often as you like.”

Murphy doesn’t lift his head when I tell him I’ll be back. He waits until I reach the door, then turns in a slow circle and buries his face in the cushion.

Benitez stands near the end of the path in a dark jacket that could belong to any vineyard employee. He introduces himself, tells us he’ll remain within sight, and then gives us room to talk. I still dislike being followed, but yesterday I heard a stranger work at the lock to my home. Harris was there and lost him anyway. I can dislike the guard and be grateful he came.

We pass the main residence and follow a path toward the lower buildings. Birdie points out chair repairs visible through the lodge windows as we walk. I learn that one has new upholstery over an old frame and another has a leg she wants to examine before anyone sits on it again. I can name half the books in a stranger’s hands from ten feet away, so I let her study furniture.

At the edge of the gardens, Mila comes toward us carrying a pair of riding gloves. Her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she wears a blue work jacket over a gray shirt. With mud on her boots and a streak of dust across one cheek, she looks far more at home.

“Sofia said you might come out,” she says. “I’m headed to the stable if you want to see it.”

Birdie looks at me. “Do you want to?”

“My mother was a veterinarian. I can survive a visit to the stable.”