Hank's interaction with Peter unsettled him as he drove home. He knew he needed more from Peter, and he knew Josie would also need more, but there was a nagging in his mind that warned him to keep Josie away from everyone. He knew she wouldn't stay hidden just because he asked, and he had no reasoning behind keeping her secret. Still, he wanted nothing more than to tuck her away and protect her from the world.

To Hank's relief, the kitchen was vacant as he ducked in to throw the chicken in the refrigerator and place the rosemary on the windowsill. From the conversation, it sounded like Josie and Clara had continued their series of cribbage matches. He escaped out to the yard unnoticed and was content to focus on his hands.

As he worked, he focused on a plan. With each scoop of muck and leaves from the gutters, he reviewed what he knew, what Hank didn't know, and what he needed to know. He inspected all the angles. It was as though his father was on a ladder beside him, pushing him further into the unknown.

Margaret was dead; Hank was confident of this; strangled with her own tartan wool scarf and found in her car. Hank hadn't thought of these facts; they didn't matter before. She was found in her car, parked in a lot on the outskirts of town. The vehicle must have been the Consul. His eyes twitched to the closed garage housing the phantom vehicle. The culprit could have killed her anywhere. Using her own scarf predicated it was likely done at the moment, an opportunity.

Henry Jr. was dead; Hank was painfully sure of this; bullet to the temple in Peter's study. It was a gruesome and efficient manner of death. Hank ran through what he knew from Peter. Elise was at her sister's; Peter and Henry had been drinking; Peter was making coffee when he heard the shot. The gap was why Peter was consoling Henry because of Margaret's death. Hank knew the gossip; it has always been Henry painted with infidelity. Peter had been unfaithful; Josie was the proof. Would Henry have also been drawn to Margaret? If she were anything like Josie, Hank could see it. Still, it felt false. Until the day he died, Henry had been a doting husband to Clara.

Hank flung a handful of muck from the gutters with more force than necessary. He needed answers, but he couldn't map out the questions to get to them, to the truth. The lies of these stories were older. New lies were soft and easy to crack. These lies had years to harden and strengthen. The path to breaking them was elusive.

"Hey, you hungry?" Josie hollered from below, startling Hank from his swirling thoughts.

Hank looked up and down the street to see if anyone had seen her before he quickly descending the ladder. "Anyone ever tell you it's a bad idea to startle a man on a ladder?" He tried to sound casual, but the curtness came through.

He fought the urge to grab her elbow and usher her to the door. Instead, he paced inside quickly, knowing she would follow.

"I didn't know I was startling you. What were you so lost in up there?"

"Leaves and muck."

"Mm, sounds like most male minds."

He ducked into the utility room to wash his hands, but kept his eyes on the doorway, letting out a calming breath when Josie passed to the kitchen.

"Chicken is in the fridge," He hollered down the hallway. His voice felt like it echoed in his throat. He couldn't remember the last time he had called out to someone.

"I know." Josie settled against the doorjamb as Hank dried his hands. "I noticed the rosemary plant as well. It's my favorite, you know."

"It is? Lucky guess," he met her gaze with a smile. "It was Evie's favorite too. I figured with a chef around; we should have some on the window."

"I like that Evie."

Hank followed Josie into the kitchen again.

"I saw them at the market. Before you ask, I invited them for dinner again. I will call her this week to set a date." Hank watched Josie smiled to herself as he spoke. "What?" He added.

"I like this."

Her smile enticed Hank, pulling him closer to her. "What this?"

"You making plans with people. It's very social," there was a tone of tease in her voice.

"Evie and Callum aren't people; they're family." He grasped her waist as he got near to her, his mind slipping again to people and the overwhelming urge to protect Josie. "Since you are sticking around, you mind if I take a deeper dive into the Consul?"

"Sure, I guess," Josie shrugged.

Distraction filled Josie's eyes, and a vain thought ran through Hank that his proximity could be the cause. The silly idea caused a laugh to erupt from his chest.

"What?" She demanded.

"Nothing," he shook it off. "You won't be able to drive it for a few days."

"Shouldn't be a problem. I can always borrow your truck, right?"

"Yeah, of course." Hank had no intention of lending her his truck. He attempted to hide his lie with a kiss. Josie seemed to accept his affection willingly, but the moment tasted bitter on his lips. He didn't care for the falsehood with her.

"What's for lunch?" He asked, pulling away.

"Steak salad," Josie got a plate from the fridge and placed stripes of warmed steak on top before sliding it across the kitchen island.

Hank slid into the seat and picked at the food before him. "How was your morning?" He managed between bites.

"Good. Clara beat me at cribbage again."

"You're kind to her." He was thankful for her patience with the monotony of his mother.

"She is fascinating. She has a lot of stories about her youth and even some of these business dinners."

Hank raised a brow at her. "Do I even want to know?"

"I don't think so. Let's say that I believe your introversion came from your father."

"I could have told you that."

"You know how you didn't recall a night your parents spent apart?" Hank gave her an absent nod to trigger her to continue. "They didn't. Even after having you, your father slept in a chair in the hospital room with your mother. They didn't spend a single night apart from each other their entire marriage."

Hank thought for a moment. He hadn't recalled a night, but he was confident there must have been at least one. No nights apart felt like too much of a triumph for him to not know as fact. "Interesting."

"It's beautiful; to love someone so much you can't sleep apart." It was beautiful; Hank agreed to himself. "I think we should tell her about us." Josie was closer now, and her voice had dropped to a tender whisper.

"It's soon," Hank was reluctant. There was so much still unknown.

"It would make her happy. And, honestly, I think she already knows."

"Probably. I'm certain she is hoping. Her imagination is probably further along than we are." Hank knew that his and Josie's connection had already convinced Clara of their match.

"How about rather than telling her, we just don't suppress ourselves?" It was clear Josie has given the topic some thought.

"Yeah, that sounds fine." Josie slipped to Hank's side as he finished his salad. Absently, his arm snaked around her waist. "Thank you for lunch," he murmured as he pushed the plate away and focused on her proximity. He was getting used to her captivating presence. At least he could have something that resembled reason when she was near.

"You have more yard work?" Her head rested on his shoulder as she spoke.

"Yeah, I have to finish the gutters so I can bring in the hose before we get a freeze. I probably won't get to the leaves until tomorrow."

"Ok," there was a mournful tone to her voice.

"Do you need me?" He pulled away to study her face.

"No," there was a pause to her voice, though. "I'll let you know when dinner is ready," she steadied her tone as she spoke. Then she grasped at the plate and hastened to the sink, focused on her task.

Hank noted perhaps Josie was more like him than he had perceived, distracting her thoughts with tactical tasks. He lingered on her back for a moment as he wondered about what her mind was mulling. Still, before she finished in the sink, he slipped out the door to his contemplations.