Chapter 2

A knock on the back door shook him out of his reverie. When he looked up, he saw his tenant standing at the door. He relaxed when he saw that she was alone. Mrs. Shaladi had come here from Libya two or three years ago. She was picking up English as quickly as could be expected of anyone, but it was still slow going. When she had something big or complicated to discuss, she brought her son to translate. Otherwise, she was content to communicate in a combination of her half-understood English and Cameron’s half-remembered high school French. Today she’d come alone, so things on the other side of the wall must be good.

He opened the door and smiled at her. “Hey, Mrs. Shaladi. How are you?”

She smiled back. Her smile was lovely, the kind of smile that improved Cameron’s mood right away. “I am okay,” she said, picking her way around the words. “And you?” Today the tight scarf that framed her face was light pink, perfect for spring. It set off her warm brown skin perfectly.

“Not too bad, Mrs. Shaladi. How are the kids?” He always felt a little too formal when he spoke with Mrs. Shaladi, like he was reading from a teleprompter or something, but it seemed to work for her.

She beamed at him. “They are well. Ali is going to All-States.”

“That’s fantastic news!” Mrs. Shaladi’s oldest son was a gifted soccer player. He’d be over the moon about getting named to the All-State team for his age group. “We’ll have to go and cheer him on. How about the others—Ibrahim and Nur?”

“They are well, thank you. Ibrahim is in school. He does well in math, and Nur is in pre-school. Thank you for finding that school for her.” She passed him an unlabeled white envelope. He could feel the thin paper of the check inside. “Nur still says that she hears something in her closet.” She shrugged, conveying more than words could. “This is normal for a child of her years.”

“I guess.” Cameron grinned. “I never spent much time with kids, but you’re the expert. I’m happy to come up and take a look around, if you think it will make her feel better.”

Mrs. Shaladi considered this, head turned to the side. “This might help. Ali is a good brother, he checks for her when she is frightened, but he is young and she does not always believe him.”

Cameron grinned at that and accepted his tenant’s offering of little walnut cookies before she returned to her own side of the building. Grandpa had been the one to sign the lease with the Shaladis; Cameron had only known them for a few months, but he couldn’t have asked for better neighbors. Sometimes he regretted charging them rent at all.

Once he got his groceries put away he went back upstairs to get more work done on the project for Vance & Wollaston up in Maine. Taking a proposal and making it look “pretty” wasn’t the most exciting work he’d ever done, but this client paid very well and he could do the work in his sleep. He’d budgeted two hours to work on the proposal; he’d done other proposals for Vance & Wollaston and he would use the same template, but he wanted to make sure that it looked professional and complete. When his timer went off, he got up and went out for a run.

Running helped to clear his mental palate for the next project, and when he got back to the house he was ready to sit down and work on a book cover for another client. He’d been holding it off because he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do for this one, but he’d had an epiphany as he’d reached the top of Burial Hill and now he couldn’t wait to get started.

When he got to the house, though, he found that his next project was going to have to be delayed. Two men stood on the steps to the porch. Cameron froze. The taller of the pair stood about six foot two, with brown hair, pale skin and shoulders that were broad enough to fill a whole doorway. The smaller had darker, curly hair and a slighter build, but he didn’t hold himself in any kind of subservient posture as he turned toward the taller man.

The hair on the back of Cameron’s neck stood up. He didn’t get a lot of visitors, and they always gave plenty of warning before showing up. His friends knew him well, and knew what was likely to set him off. The Shaladis didn’t get any visitors at all, for the most part. Cameron had put up a discreet but unmistakable “no trespassing” sign at the property line; he wasn’t alone among his neighbors in having done that, considering the hordes of tourists wanting to see Plymouth Rock during the season. These men had no excuse for being here.