"What?"

"Hard Knocks University."

"Oh yeah."

By the time Elliott went home, Garrison was exhausted. He knew it was partly because he was trying to keep up with Elliott and partly because he was gnawing on something in his mind. As foolish as it seemed, he was really considering letting the Seattle job go. What if he stuck around here and tried to turn Gram's place into a halfway house? Would it work? Or would he regret it-finding out he'd bitten off more than he could chew? Harry jumped into his lap as he sat in the living room pondering these things. "What do you think, old boy? What would you do if you were in my shoes?"

Harry gave him that adoring look-the look that clearly said he wanted Garrison to stick around and be his owner. Garrison laughed. "Yes, of course, that's because I'm currently feeding you and petting you. If someone else came along to take my place, you'd fall in love with them too."

On Thursday afternoon, Cara stopped by again. "I made too much zucchini bread," she told him as she handed over a foil-wrapped loaf that still felt warm. "I thought maybe you could use some."

"Thank you. Can you come in?"

"Well, I was just taking my afternoon walk."

"Want any company?" He brushed the dust from his hands onto his jeans.

She glanced over his shoulder. "I hate to drag you away from your work."

"No problem. Elliott's in charge anyway." He called out to Elliott. "I'll be back in a little."

"Looks like you're making progress," she said as he closed the door.

"Oh, yeah, I should've given you the full tour. It's really coming along."

"Well, it'll be dusky soon. We better walk while we've still got some light."

"Yeah . . . I still forget how night comes so much earlier in the winter. Uganda wasn't like that."

As they walked she asked him about his time in Uganda. He started by giving his usual answers, explaining about the well projects, describing the people. But then as she pressed him harder, he talked more about himself. "I get tired of people acting like I was some kind of superhero to go over there," he confessed. "There were a lot of times when I hated being there. A lot of times I felt really sorry for myself."

"That's understandable. I mean, you were there nine years."

He nodded. "And most of the time I really loved it. It was the adventure of a lifetime. I still miss it."

"Why did you come back?"

He told her about contracting malaria. "It was really my own fault. I got slack about the anti-malarial medicine. It happens a lot. When people stay there for more than a year or two, they start thinking they're invincible." He laughed sadly. "Unfortunately, it only takes a tiny mosquito to remind them otherwise."

"So that's why you came back? The malaria?"

"Yeah. It got pretty bad. They sent me home for medical help. Probably a good thing."

"And you can't go back?"

"Not anytime soon." He told her about his more recent dreams, about creating a halfway house, and even a bit about Elliott. "It's really giving me hope."

"Do you think you might stay here? Make a halfway house in your grandmother's house?"

"I'm seriously considering it." He confessed to how lost he had felt these past few months. "It was like I couldn't find my way. Couldn't get my feet beneath me," he told her as the sky grew duskier. Something about this purple-gray light made him feel more comfortable talking about his feelings. It was kind of like being in a confessional-where you couldn't see a priest. Not that he was Catholic or had ever done that, but he could imagine. "I felt like I was an old man, all washed up at the ripe old age of thirty-four."

"I'm thirty-two," she said quietly. "I can't imagine feeling washed up in a couple of years."

"Well, that's how I felt. Like my best life was behind me. Like I gave all I had and had lost a lot of myself in the process." Or maybe he'd just never known himself to start with.

"How could you lose yourself?"

He shrugged. "Maybe it was my heart that I lost while I was over there."

"Your heart?" she said quietly.

"There was a girl that I thought I was in love with." He sighed, wis.h.i.+ng he hadn't mentioned this. But there it was-out there. His admission to failure in the romance arena.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Her name was Leah and I was pretty sure that the sun and the moon rose because of her." He made a forced laugh. "For a while she even pretended to care for me."

"Pretended?"

"Yeah . . . I'm pretty sure it was an act. Turned out she had another guy on the line the whole while she was spending time with me. I think she actually used me to make him jealous. Anyway, they are happily married now. With a baby too. Really, I wish them no ill. But it did hurt. It took its toll."

"Yeah . . . I can imagine."

"But here's the deal," he said suddenly. "I'm starting to feel found again. Like I really am coming back to life. I know it's partly due to feeling healthier now. The malaria is under control. But there's something about being here. Something about working on Gram's house. Spending time with Elliott. Even hanging with Harry . . . it all feels right." He paused under the streetlight, turning to smile at her. She smiled back and suddenly he longed to take her hand in his. He wanted to tell her that she was a big part of the "rightness" that was happening in his life. But at the same time, he didn't want to scare her off. Already, he'd said much more than he'd intended.

Instead of making what could turn into an awkward declaration, and since it was now dark, he insisted on walking her home. As they walked down her street, he lightened the conversation by telling her more about Elliott and how he recognized some great potential in the young man. "Here we are," he said as they walked up to her door.

"But now I'll miss seeing the improvements in your house," she declared as they stood on the front porch together.

"Come by tomorrow," he told her. "I'll give you the full tour. I promise."

As he walked home, he wondered if he'd been presumptuous to escort her all the way up to her door. As if he'd thought they were on a date. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm her. Especially considering how they'd gotten off on the wrong foot over Harry last week. And he knew that his dating skills, at best, were rusty. He needed to go carefully with this woman . . . pace himself. Just the same, his step lightened as he considered the progress they'd made this evening. And he would get to see her again tomorrow!

11.

On Friday morning, as Garrison worked on the second-floor rooms, he got an idea. Rather, Harry gave him an idea. It seemed that whichever room Garrison was working on, Harry was determined to occupy. But as Garrison was talking to the cat, telling him to keep his tail out of the paint tray, it hit him. If he kept Harry, why couldn't he keep the ten grand that was supposed to go with Harry? Wouldn't that be fair? Or would Gram's attorney have objections because he didn't meet Gram's strict requirements? But that seemed ridiculous. After all, he was her grandson. Wouldn't she be delighted he'd gotten over his cat phobia and wanted one of her cats?

With that ten grand, Garrison could afford to pa.s.s on the Seattle job. He could buy himself time to figure things out here. Perhaps he could even start up the halfway house. Maybe he could get the church to back him. After all, they had backed him with Uganda. Suddenly it all seemed very doable.

He went to search for his phone, turning it on to see there were even more messages now. It seemed everyone wanted a cat now. Ignoring the messages, he called Mr. Miller, but discovering he was out of town until Monday, he told the a.s.sistant he'd call back. But even as he turned off his phone again, he felt hopeful. This plan could work! However, he knew better than to call Seattle and burn that bridge. It had taken far too long to land that job. No way was he going to toss it aside without some kind of a.s.surance from Mr. Miller.

The bulk of the work in the house was pretty much wrapped up by noon, and to celebrate, Garrison ordered pizza for Vincent and Elliott. "You guys are the best," Garrison said as he held up a slice of pizza like a toast. "I never would've accomplished all this without your help."

"I've enjoyed having a project to dig into," Vincent admitted. "Wish I could do some of these upgrades in my own house."

"Well, when your s.h.i.+p comes in and you're ready to do some renovations, don't forget that I owe you," Garrison told him. He wanted to add that, come Christmas Eve, Vincent would have some unexpected cash to work with.

"I'll remember that," Vincent said a bit doubtfully. "When my s.h.i.+p comes in." He pointed at Elliott. "And if that should happen, I'd like to hire you, young man. The three of us could really do some great things on my house."

"Just let me know," Elliott said as he reached for another slice.

They talked and joked about the work they'd done and Garrison could tell they were all a little sad to see it coming to an end. "But don't forget," he reminded them, "as soon as the weather starts warming up, I'll want to start working on the exterior of the house. We'll have a reunion tour in the spring."

The doorbell rang as they were cleaning up the pizza mess. As Garrison went to answer it, Vincent excused himself, and Elliott said he was going upstairs to put a final coat of paint on the bathroom baseboard.

Cara was at the door, smiling expectantly. "Is this an okay time for a tour?"

"Perfect." He welcomed her in, explaining how they were just finis.h.i.+ng up. Then he led her around the house, taking her from room to room while she gushed over the progress he'd made.

"I never could've done it without Elliott and Vincent," he said. "We made a pretty great team."

"Well, you've really turned this house around," she declared as they came back to the living room.

"There are still lots of little things to do," he said. "But the big stuff is done."

"And you even have furniture." She made a puzzled frown as she sat on the leather couch. "Very manly too."

He laughed. "That's just temporary. Beth's ex-husband picked it out." He explained about the storage unit.

"Oh . . . so you're kind of storing it for her?"

"Something like that." He grinned. "Although Elliott thinks it's sick."

She smiled. "As in cool, right?"

"Yeah. You knew that already?"

She laughed. "Unlike some people I haven't been living under a rock."

He feigned a wounded expression. Unfortunately, she was right.

"Sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean-"

"No problem. Just jerking your chain." He grinned.

She laughed as she stood. "Well then, on that note, I think I should go."

"Did I scare you away?"

"No, I just have a lot to get done before quitting time."

"Speaking of quitting time . . ." He followed her to the door, trying to think of a clever way to ask her out. "I, uh, I've been meaning to invite you to dinner. I'd like to properly thank you for all your help in finding homes for the cats. Are you busy tonight?"

"I'm sorry," she said as she opened the door. "I, uh, I already have plans."

Garrison just nodded, trying to determine if this was her way of saying he'd just stepped over the line. "Yeah . . . well, that's okay." He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to act nonchalant. But for some reason this felt like a brush-off. Like Cara was being insincere . . . just making an excuse not to go out with him. He followed her out to the porch-more to be polite than because he wanted to.

"Okay, I can tell you don't believe me," she said a bit contritely.

He shrugged. "Hey, if you don't want to go out with me, I understand. I'd just like to think you'd be honest with me." He looked directly into her eyes. "We are friends, right?"

"Of course," she declared. "But I am being honest. I really do have a previous engagement tonight. I promised David that I'd go to a Christmas party with him and there's-"

"Cara, you don't have to report to me," he said too abruptly. "I said I understand. No big deal. I get it."

"Well, okay then." She let out a frustrated sigh and he knew that he'd hurt her, but how could he take it back? "I better go," she said quietly.

"Yeah . . . me too." As he went back inside, Garrison knew he was being immature. He knew that this wasn't how you treated people-friend or not. But hearing that Cara had a date with David-well, that just cut him to the core. Especially after some of the things he'd shared with her. Sure, he was being juvenile, but he just couldn't seem to help himself. As he continued was.h.i.+ng paintbrushes in the laundry sink, he tried not to think about it. But in his mind's eye he kept seeing them together. Cara in her garnet-red knit dress or maybe even something more alluring. David in a suave dark suit. Together . . . laughing . . . dancing . . . falling in love.

"Hey, man, are you painting or cleaning brushes?" Elliott asked as he stuck his head in the laundry room.

Garrison forced a smile. "Caught me."

"Well, I gotta go. Promised my grandmother we'd take in a flick tonight." He made a face. "Hope I don't see anyone I know."

"If you do, just hold your head high. Show them that you're man enough to be seen in public with your grandmother. If they don't respect you, they don't deserve your respect."

Elliott nodded. "Yeah, man, I think you're right."

The next morning, despite feeling a bit like Scrooge, Garrison decided to take in the Christmas parade. As he walked to town, he remembered the last time he'd been here for a Christmas parade. He'd been playing trombone in the high school marching band and hoping to catch the eye of a pretty majorette named Jenny-who probably still didn't know his name. Had things really changed much since then?

As he turned his collar up against the morning chill, he decided a Christmas parade was just the ticket to cheer him up. On his way, he strolled past the staging area, looking on with amus.e.m.e.nt as he pa.s.sed the homemade floats and marching band members tuning their instruments and trying not to appear nervous. He grinned at a group of costumed children from the school of dance, stomping their feet to stay warm. Everyone was anxiously awaiting the firehouse whistle to signal it was time to begin.

Feeling unexplainably giddy himself, he hurried past the staging area and on toward Main Street. Eager to find a good spot where he could watch the small-town spectacle, he wondered how he'd managed to celebrate Christmas all these years without a folksy parade to kick it off.

He was just going past the hardware store when he spied Cara. It wasn't exactly like he was looking for her, but it wasn't exactly like he wasn't. Plus she was easy to spot. Her bright red scarf wrapped carelessly around her neck seemed to set off her s.h.i.+ning chestnut hair. "Hey, Cara," he said as he stepped up next to her.

"Garrison!" Her eyes sparkled with surprise-or perhaps pleasure?

Garrison noticed the boy on her other side. "Hey, Jackson," he said in a friendly tone. "What's up, my man?" Okay, he sounded like a bad imitation of Elliott, but he was only trying to be friendly . . . to fit in.

Jackson flashed him a crooked smile. "Not much."

"How's Muzzy doing?" Garrison asked, hoping to encourage the boy to engage like his dad wanted him to.

"She's fine." Jackson nodded eagerly. "She's a good cat."

"Is she talking your ear off yet?"

Jackson laughed. "Yeah."

"Garrison!" David exclaimed as he joined them. "How's it going?"