Page 23 of Backward Motion

His dismissive tone irked Sam. “Why’s that?”

Greenfield shrugged. “Never struck me as the stick-to-it type.”

Sam was beginning to understand Connor’s reluctance. “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.

“No?” The mayor flashed him a broad smile. “Well, we all love a zero-to-hero story. Just know the selection process is very competitive. We’ll have to see how he gets on.”

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The awards only included businesses operating within town limits. The man made it sound like the Stevies.

“We sure will.” Sam closed the ledger and bid Debbie and the mayor a good afternoon.

As he headed back to the office, he drove past Mary Merkle and several other members of the beautification committee, who were preparing the town square for the upcoming fall festival. She spotted him as he slowed to make a turn and waved—yet another reminder of how impossible it was in Oakdale to slip by unnoticed. He gave an awkward wave back.

Chapter Twelve

“It’s not a creepy abandoned mansion, is it?” Sam asked from the passenger seat of the van. The surrounding landscape flattened into farmland as Connor drove out of Oakdale.

“No, it’s not a creepy mansion,” he replied. “I know you well enough to figure that wouldn’t fly.”

He was due to complete the final inspection on a brand-new house he’d done the rough-in for several months ago. He’d just finished up the second fix. The place had been custom designed by the owners and overlooked a beautiful stretch of countryside a few miles outside of town. Connor thought it would be fun to invite Sam along to see the completed project.

“And you would be right.” Sam grinned. “Well, wherever we’re going on this mystery field trip, I appreciate the excuse to get out of the office. The month-end reports are making my eyes swim.”

“The numbers aren’t exactly mind-blowing,” Connor said. “You’re probably used to spending that much on incidentals.”

“Hey,” Sam protested. “I’ve been meaning to ask, who’s the other person on the payroll? You distribute, like, a third of your salary to a Citibank account on payday.” He shot Connor a sly look. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys with a secret family.”

The question caught Connor off guard. He hadn’t mentioned the account to Sam because he hadn’t wanted to get into it. “That’s my mom’s,” he said with a sigh. “My dad planned to keep working, but now he’s on disability, and with everything that goes into takingcare of him, she can’t really hold down a job. Anyway, he doesn’t know about the money. It would be a huge pride thing.”

“You give part of your salary to your mom?”

Connor shrugged. “It’s just a practicality at the moment. A way for me to help.”

Sam stared at him, his eyebrows knitted together. “Connor...”

Connor felt the heat rise along his neck. “Don’t give me that look.”

“I had no idea. How’s she handling the whole thing? Being a caretaker is tough.”

About to speak, Connor discovered his throat had closed up. He remembered when she had joked more, when they had spent time together without the specter of his dad’s illness looming over them. “She does her best, which is a hell of a lot better than mine,” he said finally, slowing the van as they approached the upcoming turn. He signaled left and steered them onto a newly sealed private road. “Almost there.”

The road was flanked by old trees—spruce, redwood, oak—and at the end stood an enormous two-story house on the edge of a rolling field. Connor parked in front of the garage, and they both got out of the van.

“I finished up the installation last Friday, and the family’s moving in next week.” He took the key from his pocket and let them in the front door. “I like to do one last check to make sure all works as it should.”

They stepped into the cavernous entranceway, which was laid with white marble tile. Sam looked up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “Quaint.”

“I thought you’d like the view,” Connor said as they walked through to the open-plan living area that spread across the front of the house.

The outside-facing wall was made of frameless glass panes that stretched from floor to ceiling, giving the illusion there was no wall at all. Before them, the land sloped downward, revealing a sweeping panorama of the fields below. All that green, the way it stretched into the distance to meet the horizon, made Connor feel a strange sense of peace.

“Wow,” Sam murmured beside him, gazing out at the patchwork of green. “It’s stunning.”

“Isn’t it?” They stood together for a moment, drinking in the view.

Then Connor put down his tool bag and took out his multimeter. He began moving around the room, testing each outlet, while Sam inspected the wall of built-in shelving. Once Connor was done with the living area, he continued to the adjoining kitchen.

Sam followed him, admiring the high-end appliances and opening and closing cabinets. “I wonder who these people are,” he mused. “What’s their story?”