“Oh, what fun.” Letice exclaimed and shot a glance at Susannah. “We’re out shopping for bits and pieces for Susannah’s delightful cottage. She has a keen eye.”
“Really now?” Colin met Susannah’s gaze, his dark eyes radiating with warmth and openness. “Would you care to join me for tea tomorrow and offer a few pointers?”
Susannah shifted her bags from one hand to the other. “I—I believe I’m tied up tomorrow,” she said. “Maybe another time. Thanks, though.”
Disappointment dashed across his face. “Alright. Another time. You two have a brilliant afternoon.” With a nod, the window closed, and the car spun out of sight.
Letice scoffed. “Refusing tea with Colin Heard? Whoever heard of such poppycock.”
Susannah set her jaw and grasped the handle of a bag a little tighter. “But I—I’ve something I must do.”
Letice shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand you, Susannah Wilkinson.” One eyebrow rose. “I’d go anywhere that man asked in a flash, if I wasn’t happily married for thirty-odd years. I mean, really?”
∞∞∞
The small congregation poured out of the centuries-old church, its stone glistening in the early afternoon sun. Parts of the church dated back to the eleventh century, with a fifteenth-century tower.
Amanda called aside those involved in the renovation project of the homeless shelter, including Susannah, and asked if they could meet briefly at High Tea.
Once seated, each ordered a drink and settled in, the meeting was called to order. Amanda apologized, “Sorry to pull you from your Sunday roasts, but I have important news. First of all, Colin Heard rang me last night to say he plans to attend the next meeting, and he’s totally on board with the project.” Murmurs and nods of approval travelled around the table. Reclaiming everyone’s attention, she continued, “Again, sorry, don’t mean to dampen that good word, but I do have some disappointing news.” She looked crestfallen. “Someone has purchased the old factory.”
Chapter 9
Neville, North Yorkshire, England
2019
The paper was filmy beneath April’s fingers, like butterfly wings yet not as fragile. She adored the touch of old books—thinking of all the individuals who had held them through the decades. Electronic devices, cold chunks of technology, couldn’t give her the same emotional connection. Real books didn’t run out of energy, either.
The soft rattle of the bell signaled someone’s entrance into the shop. Without glancing up from her stool, April greeted them. “Good afternoon, may I help you?” She turned toward her customer and straightened as she met Ryan’s eyes.
“Hello. Fancy seeing you here.” She clung to the tattered book at her chest like a shield.
“Hi. Thought I’d drop by to tell you the contractor wishes to meet us at the house today.” He surveyed the room as he spoke. “Would you be able to meet after work?”
April put her book on the nearest shelf without looking and stood as it slipped to the floor. Ryan stooped, rescued the volume, and returned it to the shelf before April could move. “I take off at half-five, but Polly will be here soon. I could leave early. Why don’t we meet there at five?”
“Sounds like a good thought. I’ll call Mr. Jenks and tell him.” Ryan turned to go as the bell sounded behind him. For the second time within minutes, a visitor surprised April.
“Da. What’re you doing here?” April moved toward her father and gave him a hug.
“Hello, kitten.” He shuffled a brown paper-wrapped package from one arm to the other. He glanced at Ryan but spoke to April. “I’ll browse until you’re finished with your business.”
“Sir, that won’t be necessary. We're finished.” Ryan made one step toward the door, but April touched his shoulder to stop him.
“This is my father, Cecil Conyers. Da, this is Ryan Wilkinson.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Yes, yes.” Mr. Conyers’ eyebrows peaked. “You too, young man.”
“Da, Ryan is the man selling the cottage.”
“I see. Well, well. Pleasure to meet you. You’ve made my little girl quite happy, Mr. Wilkinson.”
April’s eyes widened. Her father gave her a half-smile and shrugged a shoulder in silent apology.
“Please call me Ryan.”
“I’m glad you’re here. I have a gift for my li … daughter.” He coughed, giving her the gift ornamented with a huge yellow bow at one corner.
“Da, this is enormous … and heavy.” April struggled to get a grip on it. Ryan reached for one side of the package, so she could open it.
“Thank you,” April offered, and tore the paper with care. She gasped as the rest fell to the floor. “Da, you didn’t.”
Ryan held the large plaque, so she could view the words on it at a better angle.
Permelia Cottage
Est. c1700
Joy filled April, her face growing warm with pleasure. She looked at her father, eyes misting. “Oh, Da.” She hugged him. “But the cottage isn’t mine yet.”
Ryan jumped in. “It may as well be.”
On impulse, April hugged Ryan before she realized what she was doing. He struggled to hold the sign. Her father grabbed it in time.
She withdrew from the hug as quick as it began, gazed at her feet, and stammered, “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
Ryan didn’t meet her gaze but stared out the window. “No problem.”
April met her father’s watchful eye after the embarrassing display and hoped he hadn’t read more into it than there was. She shrugged it off. “Da, this is wonderful, but why Permelia Cottage?”
“In my research, I discovered it’s the cottage’s original name. Seems the last owner—several years ago—came asking the same questions I did.”
April saw Ryan’s shoulders stiffen and relax. “What a wonderful gift”
“Why don’t I take it with me since it’s so heavy,” Ryan added. “I’ll put it in the cottage, and when we meet this evening, we’ll ask Mr. Jenks about hanging it.”
“Splendid.” April and her father spoke at once. Mr. Conyers returned the sign to Ryan.
“Okay, I’ll see you later.” He looked at April, and turned to her father and offered his hand, which the man shook heartily. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“And you.”
April piped in. “Thank you. I’ll see you later.”
Ryan tucked the sign under his arm and made his way to the door. The jingle indicated his departure and faded in the growing silence.
“So, tell me about Ryan.” Mr. Conyers’ eyes twinkled. “You certainly didn’t tell us he was so handsome.”
“Oh, Da. I told you and Mum everything.” April salvaged the brown paper and made a show of folding it with meticulous precision.
He offered a sideways grin. “If you say so, pet. See you tonight.” He stopped halfway to the door. “Guess you’ll be late. Shall we save a plate?”
“I suppose so.” She turned toward the counter and paused. “Da?”
He gripped the doorknob. “Yes?”
“How did you have the sign made so swift?”
“I know a chap, and he did a rush job for me.” Hesitant, he added, “Perhaps Ryan will want to eat after you meet with Mr. Jenks. He could come with you.” He presented her with a crooked smile, eased the door open, and left without waiting for her reply.
“Oh, Da,” she said and laughed, happiness surrounding her the rest of the afternoon.
∞∞∞
The countryside sped past in blurs of green, yellow, and occasional glints of brilliance when the sun reflected on water. April had forgotten she needed to run a brief errand in Northallerton before meeting Ryan at the cottage and was behind schedule.
Images of the cottage sign, Ryan’s cloaked reaction at the mention of his mother, and the hug, flashed in her mind. Why had she done that?
She’d been so delighted she’d have likely hugged a total stranger. Wouldn’t she?
&n
bsp; No, that simply wasn’t true, and if she were honest with herself, her unusual behavior as of late stemmed from Ryan—or was it only from the camaraderie she felt for his mother? She didn’t know him. Why was she dwelling on this? God, please ease my mind to be at peace and not over-analyze everything.
For distraction, April made a mental list of things to do—hire a dustman and someone to mow and pull weeds perhaps once a month. She could do most of the gardening. She would need cleaning supplies.
The train eased to a stop at Neville. Being lost in thought had made the twenty-minute train ride seem like five. The book lay open on her lap, bookmark still in place. She closed it with a snap and placed it in her pink chintz bag. As she stepped onto the station platform, she wondered how many times she’d made this walk after a trip on the train. Ten minutes to the cottage soon to be her home, five minutes to her parents’—her home for all her life. Oh, my, was she having second thoughts—surely not? She loved the cottage.
She remembered the paper she’d found. Her curiosity got the best of her, though it was most likely nothing.
When she approached, Ryan stood by the cottage gate in deep discussion with Roland Jenks, the contractor. She slowed her pace. She knew Roland—he was a nice man, and honest.
“Good afternoon, gents.” Her voice cheery.
“Hallo’, lass.” Mr. Jenks laughed. He seemed to laugh at any and everything. It was his nature to be in a perpetual good mood.
Ryan was leaning against the wall surrounding her cottage. “Mr. Jenks and I were discussing a paint job for the exterior.”
“That would be splendid. I suppose a list of repairs and such, with the cost, should be where to start. I’m uncertain I can afford the paint job yet. Do you have a basic tally?” She rubbed her jaw. Could she afford the house and the repairs as well? “I may have to wait on the cosmetic issues and repair the necessaries for now.”
Ryan sounded confident. “The bank may give you a better loan if I spruce up the outside. I’ll have Mr. Jenks paint it tomorrow before the bank appraiser comes out. Don’t worry about the cost.”
April’s eyebrows rose, her lips pulling taut. “Ryan, you said you were selling it ‘as is’—no repairs and such.”
“Yes, I did, but Mr. Jenks gave me such a good deal, and I feel responsible for the lack of care. I don’t want this to lower the value of the house and be the reason for the refusal of your loan.”
April relaxed her lips as she understood his reasoning, yet the offer to pay for the repairs was unexpected at the least.
Mr. Jenks’ smile grew wider by the second. She saw the glint in his eyes.
April bit the inside of her cheek and cleared her throat. “Well … thanks. I’m not sure what to say.”
Mr. Jenks broke into their conversation. “We’ll cover the plants ’round the ‘ouse. They look a sight better since your gardener tidied things.”
Gardener? April wheeled and took in the garden. The weeds were gone, shrubs trimmed, no longer blocking the windows. The encroaching grass between the flowerbeds was replaced with large flat stones and formed a beautiful winding path throughout the garden. Assorted pink and white flowers bloomed sporadically, freed from neglect and overgrowth of vines and weeds.
Even the whitewashed arbor over the gate peeked through since the ivy and the wisteria had been given a creative pruning. The sweet scent of lavender wafted in the air, reminding April of the dried lavender in the fireplace.
Ryan and Mr. Jenks were speaking, likely to her. “I’m sorry. I was admiring the garden. It’s brilliant.”
“Glad you like it. I had met with the landscaper the same day I first met you here. I had it all arranged that day. I was asking you what color you wanted the house painted.”
“I haven’t given it much thought, but I suppose a whitewashed finish.” April considered the cottage. “I don’t wish it to appear too modern. The cottage will be restored … to what she once was.”
Mr. Jenks clutched a clipboard under his arm as he held the gate open for her. “Why don’t we go ’round and discuss the repairs.”
Ryan stood back and let April walk into the garden. She paused here and there focusing on various improvements while the men pointed out roof and window issues that needed attention. She nodded, not paying much attention to either of them.
Ryan opened the front door, allowing April to enter, leaving it ajar to let in more light. Mr. Jenks began a detailed inspection using small tools from his utility belt—inserting an odd-looking tool into an electrical socket, pressing a flat screwdriver against windowsills to check for wood rot and so on.
April walked alone into the office and took a seat in the desk chair. Her heart pounded as her gaze searched out the room’s contents—all the books and travel memorabilia. The creaking of the door brought her head around with a jolt. Ryan stood in the doorway.
“There you are. Mr. Jenks has a list of repairs ready and is working on a rough estimate.” His face held no humor, nor was he frowning. “Do you like this room?”
April cleared her dry throat. “Yes, yes, I do—very much.” She softened her voice. “When will you pack and move the furniture?”
He parted his lips to answer, hesitant. He took a moment of quiet contemplation before he answered, “I’m not sure. I haven’t considered that. Are you interested in any of it?”
She slid her fingers along one arm of the chair, feeling the soft chintz fabric. “It would be nice to not shop for furniture. I rather like it all. Your mum had such good taste. What about her personal things—books and bits?”
A crease formed on his forehead. Mr. Jenks called from the kitchen. “I think you’ll be needin’ a new fridge. They don’t do well sittin’ empty for so long a time.”
Ryan leaned against the door frame, filling it with his height. “Sure, Mr. Jenks.” He spoke to her again, his tone resolute. “If you’re interested, you can keep it all. If there are any personal items, you can send them to me later if you don’t mind.” He stepped forward as he reached in his pocket to retrieve a business card and found a pen to scratch something on the back. “Here’s my home address.” His voice was curt as if reigning in emotion. He avoided her eyes. “I’ll reimburse you for the shipping.” He tossed the card onto the desk and left the room.
His tone and abrupt action astonished April, and she realized it must be the ache he experienced when he thought of going through his mother’s belongings. She called to his retreating form, “That’s fine. Let me know how much you want for it all.”
Ryan paused in the hall and called over his shoulder, his voice terse. “I want nothing. It all comes with the house. You’ll be doing me a favor by going through my mother’s personal things and sending them later. Saves me the time and effort—it’s a small price to pay.” He banged the office door closed behind him.
April started at the bang of the door. Why was he angry? Perhaps it was his mother’s private things that unsettled him. She took a deep cleansing breath and released the tight grip on her purse. Using the arms of the chair, she levered herself to her feet. The entire incident had left her shaky. She disliked confrontation of any kind.
Once inside the lounge, she heard voices coming from the kitchen. Mr. Jenks and Ryan were going out the door to the back garden. She hurried after them and stepped into the waning sunlight that covered the garden in an ethereal glow against a backdrop of the rolling hills.
April thrilled with the possibilities of the space—imagining tiny clear lights strung around the perimeter wall, the arbor over the side gate, and the small trees. She envisioned having teas and luncheons with her friends and Sunday dinners with her parents.
Mr. Jenks shattered her thoughts. “Well, here ya’ go.” He presented Ryan the paper with the list of repairs and costs. “Barrin’ any unforeseen thing that may rear its ugly head while we’re doin’ our surgery.” He cackled at his own joke, blue eyes dancing.
Ryan’s smile was faint. “And how long to make this happen?” He glance
d at the paper.
“Ryan, may I?” April reached for the list.
Hesitant, he relinquished the estimate.
“Are you able to start tomorrow?” he asked Mr. Jenks.
April perused the list while they spoke.
“If so—it’d be after lunch—if not, would have to be early the next mornin’. Shouldn’t take more than a couple o’ days—includin’ the paintin’—what with a full crew and all.”
“When do you need payment, Mr. Jenks?” The frown line between her eyes deepened. “I must go to the bank and include the repairs in my loan. It could take a few days.”
Before Mr. Jenks could respond, Ryan looked at April. “Why don’t I go with you to the bank. I’m sure something can be worked out.”
Uncertain what that meant, she felt he was trying to delay the issue. Mr. Jenks must have sensed it also because he made no reply to April’s question. He scratched his head, which ruffled his red hair, making him appear scruffy in a comical way.
They walked back inside, and Ryan asked Mr. Jenks, “How about going for a cup of coffee? We can discuss the repairs in more detail.”
April wasn’t sure why he’d made the invitation. To take things in a friendlier direction? She stiffened and tried to fight the growing skepticism within her.
Ryan shrugged. “April may have questions and thoughts on the repairs.”
April sagged against the wall, trying to relax. She now was a part of the decision-making process of her new home.
Hers. The cottage would actually be hers.
“Yes, please, Mr. Jenks. Join us—some appetizers with that coffee, or tea?”
“Aye, I’d love to lass, but the missus is expectin’ me at the usual time. Without givin’ her proper notice, she’d ‘ave my hide.”
“Even though I’m a bachelor, I can see your point.” Ryan laughed. “You have my phone number, so please call if you need anything. I’ll drop by tomorrow evening to see if you can get started.”
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