Page 11 of The House on Forgotten Hill

“So,” he said. “I’d like to take you to dinner.”

“What would all your other women think?”

The words escaped my mouth before I could stop them.

He looked around. “I’m sorry ... what other women?”

“The ones you’ve been entertaining almost every night.”

“Oh. Those women. They don’t get a vote.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don't know you.”

“Wouldn’t going out for dinner help us get to know one another?”

“Maybe. I’m just not looking to date anyone right now.”

“Who said anything about dating?” He thought for a moment. “All right, then. Forget dinner. Why don’t I cook for you instead?”

I leaned against the doorframe. “Why are you so determined to spend time with me?”

“I may know most people in this neighborhood, but I wouldn’t call many of them friends. I’d hope things between you and me could be different. Plus …” He looked toward the houses lining the street. “I can tell you about everyone who lives around here.”

Everyone, including all the people who may have known my father.

Seeming to pick up on the fact that I was giving it consideration, he added, “I almost have you, don’t I? You want to say yes. I can tell. Come on, Olivia. It’ll be fun.”

I looked down at the bottle of gin in my hands.

One dinner.

That was all.

If nothing else, perhaps I’d get to know the people in the neighborhood.

Or something that might explain what happened to my father.

“When were you thinking?”

“Friday.”

“As in tomorrow night?”

He nodded.

I hesitated a few seconds. “All right.”

“There you go. I knew you’d come around.”

He extended his hand.

I stared at it. “You want to shake on it?”

“Humor me.”