Ryan slammed one door shut and dragged open another. “Murph Compton should be shot. He expects everyone to live in a damn rabbit warren, so that he can live in a mansion.” “You’re describing my future home,” his grandmother said mildly, “and the storage space is perfect for my needs, providing you don’t break the doors before I move in.” Ryan strode moodily across the small sunny kitchen and opened another door. What the hell had Emily meant when she’d said he’d confused Lizzy? “The contents of one of your kitchen cupboards would fill this whole place.” “I’ve been clearing out. It’s called downsizing.” “There’s no room for a toaster on that counter.” “I didn’t realize you had such an emotional connection with my toaster, but if its welfare is that important to you, then, please, consider it a gift.” Agnes sighed. “What’s wrong, Ryan?” “Nothing is wrong. I just can’t understand why you want to live here, that’s all.” He strode back through to the airy living room and tried to forget about the confrontation with Emily.
