Page 5 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

"I’m going to like it here after all."

Zaire didn’t ask me to explain.

He just put his arm around my shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.

We stood together in the driveway of our new home as the movers brought in box after box.

The movers worked quickly, weaving around each other as boxes labeled KITCHEN, PRIMARY SUITE, and OFFICE disappeared through the front door.

Zaire stepped away to take a call from one of his agents, then went over to talk with the foreman. Soon, they were discussing furniture placement, closing dates, and a new listing that had just come up.

Real estate never seemed to slow down. I welcomed the distraction because it gave me a reason to move around the house on my own.

The air carried a hint of fresh paint and lemon polish. It was clear someone had cleaned carefully before we moved in.

I gently closed the front door behind me.

It was the first quiet moment since we arrived. I stood in the foyer, listening, then took a slow breath and looked around.

As I walked to the kitchen to place the cake down.Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting golden lines across the hardwood floor. Dust floated in the light before disappearing.

The house felt different now that it was empty. My gaze drifted to the staircase. Slowly I walked over and stopped in place as a strange feeling washed over me. I glanced back, unsure why. I frowned, then let out a quiet laugh at myself.

"Nerves," I whispered.

I headed upstairs. The movers hadn’t made it to the second floor yet, so the hallway remained untouched.

The hallway stretched ahead. Something about it felt oddly familiar, and the hair on my arms stood up.

It seemed silly. I’d already walked through the house twice before closing. Maybe that explained it.

I turned left. The first bedroom was empty, sunlight pouring in through the windows. The second faced the backyard. At the third, I reached for the doorknob. My fingers touched the cool brass, then paused. A pressure built in my chest.

It seemed like opening that door might make me remember something I wasn’t ready to face. I let go slowly.

"I’ll come back," I whispered, surprised at myself.

Come back? I shook my head. That made no sense. A loud thump from downstairs snapped me out of it.

"Mrs. Graham?" one of the movers called.

"Where do you want these bathroom boxes?"

I cleared my throat.

“The master bathroom is located in that bedroom.”

"Got it."

His footsteps faded. I glanced one last time at the closed bedroom door, then forced myself to keep walking down the hall.

When I reached the kitchen, the movers had already stacked boxes along the island.

I smiled in thanks and reached into a box marked COFFEE. My hand found something ceramic, and without looking, I pulled out my favorite mug.

I stared at it for a moment. Out of all the mugs, how did I grab that one? I set it down. You’re just tired, I told myself. I walked to the sink.

My hand moved under the cabinet before I even realized what I was doing.