Howard nodded. His grandfather would agree with this. He was always droning on and on about their history as berserkers. “And you, Elsa?”
She sipped some water as she considered. “For me it’s all about family. Creating a home where a family can make their own history, where year after year holidays are celebrated and birthday candles are blown out.”
Howard smiled. “Do you come from a big family?”
She shook her head. “No. I was an only child. I lost my mom when I was young, so my aunt and uncle raised me.”
“Then you place a high value on family because it’s always been scarce.”
She tilted her head, considering. “I never thought about it that way, but it’s true. Nothing makes me happier than seeing a family settled into one of the houses we renovate. If we can give them a good solid home, then it seems like we’re doing something really special.”
“You are.”
Her gaze met his, and instantly he felt the connection, the pull. Would he be able to touch her again without hurting her?
Alastair cleared his throat, and Howard wondered how long he and Elsa had stared at each other. The waitress brought their food, and they busied themselves eating.
“How did you learn to do woodwork?” Howard asked.
Elsa swallowed her bite of hamburger. “I learned from my uncle Peder. It was his hobby.” She sipped some more water. “He passed away about a year ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “I miss him, but I’m forever grateful to him. He was a builder by profession and taught me so much. My aunt is an interior designer, so I grew up surrounded by sawdust, paint and carpet samples, and swatches of fabric.”
Alastair wiped his mouth with the paper napkin. “My family was into construction, too. It gets into your blood.”
Elsa nodded. “I became fascinated with the whole process of turning a few boards and brick into an actual home, a place where children could play and couples grow old together.”
Howard smiled. This was the Elsa he’d fallen for on television. She was genuine. Real. And he was going to pursue her in earnest. If he could touch her without hurting her.
After paying for dinner, he followed them outside.
“I’ll go get us some rooms.” Alastair headed across the street to the motel office.
“He’s leaving me alone with you?” Howard smiled at Elsa. “I must have passed inspection.”
She snorted. “Alastair considers me his little sister. A rather big little sister.”
“Not too big to me.”
She gave him a puzzled look.
He stepped closer. “Can I see you again?”
“I’m sure we’ll see each other often at the house.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He reached out to touch her arm, but she moved back. “Does your shoulder still hurt?”
“A little. I should go to my room and put some of that ointment on it. Thank you for dinner.” She stepped off the sidewalk to cross the road.
“Elsa.”
She glanced back.
“Aren’t you curious? Don’t you want to know what will happen?” He extended a hand toward her.
Frowning, she turned to face him. “Why would I ask for more pain?”
“Maybe it won’t hurt this time.”
“It hurt before. It’s too big a risk.”
“It’s too big a loss if we give up on our future.”
She scoffed. “What future?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I really want to see you again.” He was tempted to tell her they were somehow connected, but he didn’t want to frighten her.
She groaned with frustration. “I’m not sure I can trust you.”
He turned his hand palm up. “Try me and see.”
After a moment of hesitation, she extended her hand and gently tapped his fingers with her own. Her gaze lifted to his. “It didn’t burn.”
With a grin, he took her hand in his. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”
She nodded, her cheeks blushing. “Good night, Howard.” She let go and dashed across the street.
Chapter Seven
Elsa wiped a circle of steam off the bathroom mirror so she could get a better look at herself. After a hot shower, she felt more capable of dealing with her life.
She gathered her long, damp hair into a towel turban on top of her head, then peered at her shoulder in the mirror. It was an odd birthmark—an ugly splotch on her upper arm with four clawlike marks extending over the curve of her shoulder, as if some sort of wild beast had grasped her and refused to let go. It had returned to its usual dull maroon color, but earlier, when she’d examined it in the restroom at the diner, it had glowed a brighter red.
The mark had always embarrassed her, especially in her teenage years, making her reluctant to wear tank tops or swimsuits, but it had never caused her physical pain before. Not until she’d touched Howard.
What was so special about him? She snorted. What wasn’t special about him? He was big and gorgeous. He seemed intelligent, polite, and genuinely concerned about her.
From her handbag, she retrieved the tube of ointment he’d given her. He’d said she was beautiful. And not too big. He’d looked at her with desire simmering in his gorgeous blue eyes. With a sigh, she smeared some ointment over the birthmark. She’d finally met a man like Howard, and she was supposed to avoid him?
Why? Because of some vague curse Greta and Ula talked about? Why would she let that nonsense stop her from seeing him? He’d touched her again, and it hadn’t hurt. The first time must have been a fluke.
She slipped on her favorite green pajamas, brushed out her hair, then collapsed on the bed. As exhausted as she was, sleep should come easily.
Thirty minutes later, she sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. Too many questions were bouncing around in her mind. The whole interview with Shanna Draganesti had seemed odd. Why did Shanna and her husband insist on having a rep? Most people relished the idea of appearing on television. And why could she never visit the site during the day? Most people with day jobs could arrange to have an hour or so free. Where did they work? Where did they live? What was the deal with the secret school down the road?
Where did Howard live? And why did his first touch make her birthmark burn?
She didn’t know how to answer her questions about Shanna or Howard, but she could at least get some answers about her birthmark. She called Aunt Greta in Minneapolis.
“Ellie!” Greta answered the phone on the first ring. “Are you all right? You haven’t been attacked, have you?”
“What?” Elsa gave her phone an incredulous look. “What are you talking about?”
“Where are you?”
“In my hotel room. Cranville, New York.”
“Make sure the door and windows are locked. Don’t let anyone in. Do you have any weapons?”
“What? Aunt Greta, what’s going on?”
“I just got off the phone with Aunt Ula. I’m sorry to say this, but the situation is much more dire than I had realized.”
Elsa groaned. Her great-aunt Ula was wacky. The old woman lived on an island in Sweden and claimed she could talk to seals. “Look. You shouldn’t take anything Ula says seriously.”
“We have to,” Greta insisted. “You’re in grave danger. You must stay away from the man who activated the curse. Ula is taking the first flight out of Stockholm—”
“She’s leaving her island?” Elsa had never heard of Ula stepping foot off her beloved island.
“Yes. She’s flying to New York, and then Albany. I’m packing up to leave now. I’ll meet her in Albany, and then we’ll come see you.”
Elsa winced. “You have to stop her. You don’t need to come here. The whole thing was a mistake. I touched the guy again, and it didn’t burn at all.”
Greta gasped. “You touched him again?”
“We shook hands after dinner.”
“You had dinner with him when I told you to avoid him?” Greta let out a long groan. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”
“I told you before. I don’t believe in this nonsense.”