6 - Pages of Sin

problem with it.
    “I swear, I thought Byron was going to burst into tears, he was so grateful.” Mom stood, walked over to the sink and adjusted the mini-blinds so more of the morning sunlight could pour into the kitchen. She turned around and folded her arms across her chest. “He said it had been such a long time since anyone had come into the house, he was a little uncomfortable about it. But he finally accepted my offer.”
    “Lucky you.” So it was official. My mother was a much better human being than I was.
    “I needed to get an extra house key from him,” she continued, “so I followed him home. And that’s when I understood why he was uneasy.”
    “You went inside the house?”
    “Not exactly.” Mom sat back down at the table and poured more tea into our cups, emptying the pot. “I told him I would wait on the porch and he seemed relieved. But when he walked inside, I managed to get a glimpse of the living room before he closed the door.”
    I sat forward. “How did it look?”
    She frowned. “There’s just a lot of stuff everywhere. I mean, everywhere. I was shocked.”
    “So she was a hoarder.”
    Mom’s lips twisted as she considered, then said, “I guess that’s another matter of opinion. It’s all very neat and organized, but yes, there was a lot of stuff.”
    I made a face, but didn’t comment.
    “But the place seemed clean,” Mom added quickly. “I didn’t get a big whiff of mildew or dust in my face, so that’s a good thing.”
    “I guess.” I took a bracing sip of my now lukewarm tea and imagined the worst case scenario. I couldn’t help it; I was morbidly hooked on the TV show Hoarders. I pictured junk stashed everywhere. “So when are you going to start cleaning out her stuff?”
    She smoothed the tablecloth some more before meeting my gaze again. “Byron said I could start next week, but it just so happens that I baked a taco casserole for him. I told him I’d drop it by today.”
    “Oh, really?” I laughed.
    “Yes,” she said defensively, but she was smiling. “And while I’m there, I might look around and maybe start going through some closets. Just a preliminary look-see to judge how much work I’ll have to do.”
    “Will he be there?”
    “No, he’ll be at work. But I have the house key now.”
    “And you’d like me to come with you.”
    “If you want the books, yes.”
    “That’s a pretty weak bribe,” I said, laughing again. “You should have made a taco casserole for me, too.”
    “I did,” she said, patting my hand. “I froze it, so we’ll have it for dinner later this week. But even if I didn’t, you’d still come with me. There’s a room full of old books waiting to be rescued. You can’t help yourself.”
    Damn it, she was right. When it came to books, I was a shameless scrounger and a glutton for punishment. I might not be happy about creeping around Wanda’s stacks of crap, but I wanted those books. On the semibright side, Wanda had already passed away, so I was pretty sure I wouldn’t stumble over any dead bodies. That was a win-win in my book.
    I drained the last of my tea. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
    We took my car and drove by the market to pick up some boxes for packing books, then headed over to Byron Frawley’s home. As I rolled to a stop at the red light, I thought how lucky Mom and I were that my bookbinding class didn’t start until tomorrow night. I had a full day and a half with nothing to do but hang out with her and help clean up Wanda’s stuff.
    As I waited for the light to turn green, my thoughts went to my boyfriend, Derek Stone. It was something my thoughts did a lot lately.
    I smiled, thinking the term boyfriend seemed totally wrong and unsuitable when referring to the tall, dark, hunky, gun-toting former MI6 British intelligence officer and Royal Navy Commander that Derek was. Boyfriend didn’t begin to describe either Derek—he was no boy, that was for sure—or our relationship, which had grown so much more complicated than that sweet, simple word could convey.
    Thinking about Derek made me miss him more than ever. And if that sounded like the plaintive cry of a needy, insecure girlfriend, it wasn’t. I swear. I had always been perfectly happy on my own, by myself. I grew up in a big family and knew I could call on friends and siblings or parents whenever I wanted to. But I was just as happy to sit alone in my workshop and rip apart a good book. I knew how to have a good time all by