Читать книгу Home Sweet Home - Kim Watters - Страница 9

“Yes. Contractors usually do leave when the job is done.” Cole reached over and placed a calloused hand over her clenched ones. “If you’re looking for something more, I’m not the guy.”

Abby stared at the man, who wore his dark short hair styled in a way that suited him. Shallow laugh lines touched the corners of his eyes and mouth, and his skin had been lightly kissed by the sun. His quarter-zip light blue sweater accented his shoulders and muscular arms, but it was his earthy brown eyes that captivated her and made her want to dig in and sow the seeds of something more permanent.

His touch warmed and chilled her at the same time. Confused, she pulled back her hands and forced them onto her lap. Good going, girl. Push him away. Make him run for the hills. Cole Preston is the answer to what some would call prayers, but to her it had been a simple plea to the universe. Not only could he help her get the house done in time, he could help her be accepted into Dynamite Creek. If she turned him away, the people might do the same to her and then she’d never fit in or find a real home.

“Of course not. I never suggested you were, Mr. Preston.” Abby pulled out her calm facade, something she’d perfected years ago in each new neighborhood, each new school, each time she was ridiculed because of the cheap, discounted chain store clothes she wore.

“Cole. The name’s Cole, Ms. Bancroft. What’s yours again?” When he grinned, tiny dimples appeared.

Her breathing quickened. He affected her on a different level and in a way she didn’t understand in her limited experience with men. “Abby.”

“Abby. That suits you. Short for Abigail?”

“Yes.” The way he said her first name reminded her of liquid velvet. Her heart fluttered. Abby retreated to the coffeemaker to refill her cup. Distance. That’s what she needed. With the crook of an eyebrow or quirk of his lips, the man had the ability to get under her shell.

Turning away from the worn counter, she leaned against it, the edge cutting into her back. Cole had moved from the table and now stood less than three feet from her. An unexplainable intrinsic energy dragged her toward him so she stepped to the side to put more space between them. His nearness plucked at her sanity, pulling it apart one tiny strand at a time until she felt exposed and vulnerable. “How much is this going to cost me?”

“Your grandparents already paid a hefty deposit. Until that’s exhausted, the labor is free.”

“The labor, but not the materials.” Ka-ching. Dollar signs blazed inside her brain. With the entire house needing attention, the paint, the flooring, and whatever else this monstrosity required, the labor would probably be the cheap part.

Abby dragged in a ragged gasp and caught a whiff of Cole’s aftershave. Masculine with a dash of adventure mixed in. Her pulse accelerated. But she didn’t need adventure; she’d had enough of that growing up. Suddenly she didn’t want him in her house or anywhere near her because he was dangerous to her peace of mind. If she wasn’t careful, she’d find herself falling for another person who had no intention of sticking around in her life.

Indecision clawed at her, tore at her insides. She had to make this work. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she glanced around the room. Morning sunlight filtered in through the window above the sink and highlighted every flaw and blemish in the kitchen. The rest of the house wasn’t any better, but she couldn’t get rid of him. Not now when she had only enough income to survive for two months and guests arriving at the beginning of May that expected a decent place to stay.

“We’ll work something out. When do I start?” His crooked smile sent her pulses on another one of those road trips her mother had been so fond of. “You won’t regret it.”

Abby already did. Suddenly, she wanted off of the emotional roller coaster but it was too late. Despite her earlier resolution, Abby decided she was going to be sorry she let Cole into her house and her life for the next few months.

“May as well start today since you’re here.” Her sigh filled the small area between them, yet when she glanced up, his mocha-colored eyes invited her to sit back and stay awhile. Something she wasn’t about to let happen. Until she could identify this crazy thing swirling around them, the more space she kept between them the better. “Even though you’ve already seen it, let me refresh your memory. You may change your mind.”

Abby pushed herself away from the counter and marched past him, grabbing another lungful of his masculinity. Once he realized the scope of the project, he’d probably disappear again. Disappointment made a home in her heart. Just once she’d like to lead a normal life. Just once she’d like to have someone stick around. But even more important, she wanted to find a permanent place to call home.

She stood in the doorway leading into the small kitchen and waited for Cole to catch up. More tension crystallized into tiny fragments of emotional energy when he moved in behind her.

His guarded whisper scraped her eardrums. “Contrary to what you might believe, I’ve never been inside here before. My ex-partner came and bid on the project and took the money. Until it’s paid back, I won’t change my mind. After you.”

Abby felt the weight of his gaze all the way down the hall. Something weird and crazy seemed to pass between them every time they came in close proximity. Maybe she should get a job? Surely there had to be someone in town who needed help. She had enough experience doing mundane things, and she could use the extra money. That would keep her away during the day, but if she did that, the restorations would take that much longer without her help.

Besides, who would hire Bancroft’s illegitimate granddaughter? Sure the people in town had been more than welcoming to her, but for how long? Don’t go there. Her teeth buried themselves into her bottom lip as she pivoted by the front door. “As you can see, this is the foyer.”

“Actually, it’s the reception area. People used to mingle here while waiting for dinner to be served. That’s why it’s wider than a normal hall. I like it, though the wallpaper and paint have to go.” Cole walked over to the wood staircase near the back right and ran his hands across the smooth, paint-coated banister that led to the second floor.

“No kidding.” Abby crossed her arms again and leaned against the fireplace, a blast of cold air permeating her thin sweater. She shivered uncontrollably, but more from Cole’s longing expression as he stared at the railing than from the temperature. “The rest of the house is just as bad, I’m afraid.”

“I figured as much, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Cole continued to run his fingers along the painted oak. Something about the new owner brought out his need to fix things. Except he’d learned the hard way, he couldn’t fix people. He’d tried and look where it landed him; back in his hometown, his name mud, his dreams shattered.

Cole was better off staying away from people and sticking with houses like this one. He loved the old styles, quirks and all, and renovating them was his specialty. Well, smaller ones, not one of the mansions he’d walked by almost twice a day going to and from school. His vision of owning one though had disappeared along with his scant retirement fund when he started undoing the damage caused by his ex-partner. But that was all in the past.

If God wanted him to have a house like this, He’d provide a way for Cole to achieve it.

He continued to stroke the banister, glad for the diversion from his thoughts. Passion infused his voice. “This house is a gem, Abby. We’re lucky so much of it has been kept intact, at least in this space. Let’s hope the rest of the rooms are the same. If we don’t have to replace any of the crown molding, corbels or ceiling medallions, our timeline will have just decreased. Stripping all the wood will probably take the longest. Did you know that underneath this layer of paint a beautiful piece of oak is just waiting to be exposed?”

“But I don’t want to replace things, all I want is for you to paint and wallpaper over everything. That’s quicker and easier.” She started pacing, determination with a hint of hesitation in each deliberate movement.

She glanced at her watch but Cole deduced she was really running through an imaginary calendar in her head. Frustration nipped at him. He wanted to do the job right and in the process uncover the secrets of the attractive woman at the same time he peeled away the layers of paint and faded wallpaper. He’d certainly be here long enough.

He softened his voice and unwillingly pulled his hand from the banister. “You can’t want to continue to cover up the beauty of this place. I believe your grandparents wanted to restore the place back to its original state. And that would involve stripping the paint down to the wood and re-staining it.”

“I’m not Charles or Sally.” Her gaze swept up the long staircase leading to the second level as if trying to see it through his eyes. “I suppose it would look much better, but I don’t have the time.”

“Why not? What are you going to do with the place?”

“Reopen the Bancroft Bed-and-Breakfast.”

Cole’s fingers curled into fists. Like he’d told Abby, this house was a gem and he could see the possibilities. In fact he could almost hear the clink of silverware and the lull of conversations coming from the dining room to his right, or guests sitting in comfortable lounge chairs in front of a roaring fire in the parlor to his left, or better yet, a posse of children clomping down the steps. These types of houses were meant to be lived in. Cherished. Filled with love and laughter. But after being inside its four walls, the spirit of the house needed mending, as well.

“My first guests arrive the Friday of the Founder’s Day Festival,” she continued and he heard an edge to her voice and saw her stiffen as if daring him to challenge her.

“That’s a little over two months away.” Incredulous at the deadline, Cole bit down on his tongue. His stomach churned. He owed Abby in a huge way because she was giving him the chance to clear his name. He’d do everything in his power to make sure the house was done in time even if he had to cut corners in not so obvious places and go without sleep during the entire job. “Fine. I’ll have it done by the festival.”

Abby faced him. Fear, determination, and what he sensed as abandonment, all warred for dominance in her expression. A faraway look glazed her eyes, yet her backbone remained fused into a rod. Her lips thinned as she pulled them into a grimace before her determined words spilled out. “This place needs to be ready by the end of April. I’ll help, too.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Plus six more people if anyone besides Abby would work for him.

Cole had an idea there was a lot more going on inside her brain than she divulged, but he let it slide. He had two months to draw her out if he wanted to. Especially if they were going to be working side by side during the remodel. A thought that chased away all the moisture from his mouth. He should get in his truck and hightail it back to Phoenix, but he wouldn’t walk away from his final obligation. Or Abby.

“Let’s take a look at the rest of the house and see what we’ve got to do.” Cole ushered Abby toward the front and into the parlor to the left, making sure to keep three paces behind her. Not only because he sensed she needed the distance, but because he needed it, as well.

His heart sank once he stepped through the double doors. No crown molding remained and the ceiling medallions had been removed. Plus the servant’s entryway and back wall had been covered by floor-to-ceiling wood paneling that had not been painted and darkened the room.

“Not very inviting, is it? Especially the mauve paint, the uneven chair rail and the fake brick finish on the fireplace.” Abby’s words created an instant headache.

Cole rubbed his eyes in hopes that the room would miraculously change when he reopened them. No such luck. This room would take a lot of time to correct. More days than he’d budgeted for, even with Abby’s help. “Not inviting at all. This parlor should be the most formal spot in the house and the most beautiful. This is where the guests would wait for the owners while the servants would bring them food and drink. Nothing remains of the original architecture. Okay then, let’s see what else we’ve got.”

His optimism elevated a bit at the sight of the wall-to-wall shag carpeting covering the living room’s hardwood floors. At least the hideous rug should have protected the oak underneath. And barring any unseen problems, the walls could be covered by a fresh coat of paint, or covered with wallpaper. He pivoted around. More things that showed promise were the original large ornate mantel and fireplace dominating the interior wall and the stained-glass portion of the windows at the top of the panes buried under several layers of paint. The integrity of this room had survived the multiple attempts of remodeling over the years.

“Pretty ghastly, isn’t it?” Abby’s shoulders slumped and pretty much matched his current mood.

“Actually, it’s better than the parlor, but I’m not crazy that they partitioned off the back for an office even though I suppose it was necessary. They could have done a little better job in keeping with the lines of the house.” Maybe he should retreat to the kitchen and grab his coffee cup. But the more awake he became, the worse the house would look. Once he pulled up the carpet though, he hoped the floors underneath wouldn’t be that bad.

“I have no idea what your ancestors and grandparents were thinking when they changed the interior so much.” Cole scratched the back of his neck as he paced around the mismatched furniture interspersed with the antique pieces. With luck, Abby might be able to find some replicas and recover the antiques if she ventured to Phoenix. Maybe his sister could give Abby some ideas with the interior design if he could pry her away from her shop and daughter for a few days.

“You knew them?”

“Of course. Everyone in town did.” His fingers touched the cool surface of the fireplace. Solid. Good. He squatted down and stuck his head partially inside. Hopefully it just needed a good cleaning. He pulled his head out and rose to his feet and turned to face her. “I used to shovel their walk, rake the leaves and mow the lawn when I was a kid. Your grandmother always brought me out a cup of hot chocolate or a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. Even though we were never allowed inside, she treated me like I was one of the family.”

Cole watched the color disappear from her face as she sank down onto the brown couch. A frown marred her pretty features, yet he couldn’t hear the mumbled words that passed through her lips. Resisting the urge to cross the carpet and sit down next to her, he thrust his hands into his jean pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. His fingers found the change left over from his convenience store sandwich bought last night.

Something wasn’t right and he sensed he should tread with caution but somehow the question slipped out. “You never came to visit. Why?”

“I didn’t know they existed until I inherited this monstrosity.”

The regret and bitterness caught him off guard and her green eyes held his captive. Then it hit him, unsettling his nerves. In his brief survey of the room earlier, he saw no family pictures. No heirlooms. No personal items of people that had spent their lives here. Nothing to indicate that this was a home and not just a building with four walls and a roof.

This time he commanded his legs to move and he planted himself on the cushion next to Abby. He picked up her chilled hand and held it firmly in his grip. She tried to shy away from him and Cole sensed a war going on inside her, but he wouldn’t let her untangle her fingers. The pad of his thumb rubbed a circle on the back of her hand as he tried to infuse a bit of warmth into her.

“But how—” Cole answered the question himself. While Sally Bancroft had been a loving, giving person, her husband, Charles, could frighten a charging black bear with a look. The daughter had run away a few years before Cole was born. Obviously, she’d kept her own daughter’s birth a secret. “I’m sorry, Abby.”

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed ten times. The day slipped away, yet Cole didn’t have the energy to move as he sat next to Abby and watched the sunlight spill in through the stained-glass portion of the windows and dye the room with multiple colors. Peace settled inside him and he sensed a new beginning. It wouldn’t be easy, nothing worthwhile in life ever was, but the Lord would see him through and steer him in the right direction once his obligations were fulfilled.

“It’s not your fault.” Abby pulled away from Cole, not understanding why she suddenly wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. “Who knows what we’ll discover while we’re fixing this place up. Someday you’ll have to tell me about them but not now. Too much to do.”

And that “too much to do” didn’t involve sitting next to Cole, being lulled into a sense of companionship and trying to figure out why she should keep her distance.

“I agree.” Cole stood and held out his hand to help Abby to her feet.

Another shift of energy passed between them, leaving her out of breath and out of sorts. Fortunately, the tremors in her heart didn’t show in her voice. “Come on. Let me show you the rest.”

Hours later Abby and Cole sat back down at her kitchen table, a legal-sized pad of paper between them. “You’re in luck, Abby. From what I can see, this place is structurally sound, and aside from some water damage to the front and side porches, the work is all cosmetic. There may be problems we can’t see though.”

The timer dinged from the coffeemaker as Cole drew bold slashes across the first yellow page. Abby refilled their cups and returned to the table before he flipped it over and started drawing on the next sheet. By the fifth page, Abby’s curiosity increased. With his head bent slightly to his left, she could see the tip of his tongue protruding from his lips as he worked. Strong, firm fingers wrapped around the pencil, and from Abby’s earlier experience, she knew they were rough from hard work, yet gentle when he’d held her hand in the living room.

The almost schoolboyish image he portrayed when he shoved the pencil behind his ear, and the excitement dancing in his eyes when he gazed up at her, made breathing more difficult. She definitely should have never let him into the house.

“Okay, Abby, here’s what I think needs to be done.” Cole shifted the pad across to her and then stood to reposition his chair around the table next to her. His nearness threatened her sanity again. Instinctively, she shied away even though she never moved her seat. “We need to get rid of all the wallpaper, the paneling and carpet and see how bad it is underneath. All the wood needs to be stripped of the paint and re-stained its original color. The walls can either be repainted or wallpapered. There should be original pictures that we can refer to somewhere in the town archives if there aren’t any here. That would also give us a sense of the furniture, too.”

More excitement laced his voice as he flipped over the first page. “The main floor should be our initial focus because that’s what people see first. The living room needs to be warm and inviting so your guests can unwind and relax after a long day. The French double doors can close and separate the parlor from the reception area, which could double as a temporary office for those who need to work, and you could offer Wi-Fi services for those who can’t live without internet for a few days. The dining room might be a little small depending on the number of guests, but in the summer months, they could sit out on the front veranda and enjoy the views and the weather.”

All Abby saw in his scribbled notes was sand sifting quickly through an hourglass. Her stomach clenched. What the man outlined would take way more time and money than she’d budgeted for and she hadn’t even started to furnish or decorate the place yet. She should have known this wasn’t going to be easy. Nothing in life ever was. Yet, selling wasn’t an option because she was determined to stick it out and put down roots so she could find an inner peace that had eluded her for her entire life.

“When does your crew arrive? Are you sure we can do all this in two months? How much money?” Abby had better get a time frame and a figure before she trudged to apply for a bank loan. Her fingernails dug into her palms, tamping down his enthusiasm before it could wear off on her.

“I don’t have a crew anymore.” Cole squeezed the bridge of his nose and his shoulders slumped.

Ragged breathing forced air into her lungs. Obviously Abby wasn’t the only one with past issues. A piece of hopelessness fell away and she fought the longing to comfort Cole as he had done for her.

Cole’s strained sigh filled the gap between them. “I’ll get it done. As for money, we’ll figure out what we’ll need in materials when you tell me what you want. Fortunately, your grandparents already added more bathrooms upstairs and converted the servant’s hallway into a powder room, but they need to be redone along with everything else in this house. You’ll also have to decide whether you want to convert the space in the attic into living quarters or take the room your grandparents used, and how big of a kitchen you think you’ll need. I’d suggest taking the butler pantry and enlarging the entire room, but that’s your choice.”

Everything Cole said spun around in Abby’s mind like a top. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the table and she squeezed her eyelids shut, blocking out his drawings and scribbled notes.

“Abby?” His voice filled her ears, his warm breath tickling her lobe. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her heart wedged in her throat when she opened her eyes and turned to stare into his. The hammering in her brain intensified and swallowing became a chore.

The trill of the phone shattered the invisible thread binding them together. After scraping her chair’s legs against the linoleum floor, she lunged for the phone hanging on the wall next to the outdated refrigerator. At least this one was a little more current than the one in the office. “Hello? I mean, Bancroft Bed-and-Breakfast, Abby speaking. How may I help you?”

Abby listened to the voice on the other end. She stared at Cole, who still sat scribbling more notes on the paper, a slight frown hugging his lips. White knuckles protruded from his long, lean fingers as he squeezed the pencil. His actions contradicted his earlier words. “You’d like to book a room?”

Cole’s eyebrows rose, his brown eyes piercing her.

“Of course we do.” Turning away from the contractor, Abby found a piece of paper and wrote down all the necessary information to transfer to the ledger later. “Thanks, Mrs. Andrews. We’ll see you at the beginning of May.”

Lifting her chin, Abby twirled around and leveled her gaze on Cole again. Determination filled her. She was her mother’s daughter after all and until the end, nothing could stop Sharon Bancroft when she set her mind to something. “Great. Another reservation. I sense some conflict in you, Mr. Preston. I’m here for the long haul. I have to make this work. We have two months to pull this place together. If you don’t feel you’re up to the task, then leave. I won’t hold it against you.”

A dog barked from the neighbor’s yard, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“The name’s Cole. And I’m more than capable of the task.”

She hated pushing Cole, but she needed to know where he really stood. Her voice softened. “Fine. Then we’d better get started, hadn’t we? We can begin on the main floor and do the bedrooms as we need them. Right now I have two reservations, so that leaves four rooms we can work on later unless I book more guests.”

A knock at Abby’s front door caught their attention.

With the frown still hugging his lips, Cole set down the pen on the paper and stood. “Sounds doable. Are you expecting anyone?”

“No.” Abby pushed away from the counter, glad for the distraction as she headed for the sound. “It must be Mrs. Wendt again. She’s probably brought me something else to eat. She thinks I’m too skinny.”

Cole intercepted her, his gaze traveled slowly from the tips of her sneakers to the bandanna on her head. When his fingers tenderly brushed away a piece of dust from her hair, her breath caught in her throat and refused to move into her lungs. His appreciative glance finally settled on her face. “I think you look fine.”

“Thank you. I think.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned and strode from the room. “I’ll get it.”

“No. I’ll get it. It’s my house.” A louder knock brought Abby out of her reverie. “Hang on, I’m coming.”

Heat flared in her cheeks as she scurried down the hall and overtook Cole in the reception hall. He hovered behind her but allowed her to struggle with the lock, until she finally managed to jiggle the dead bolt and open the front door. An elderly woman stood on the porch, her hand patting down a stray flyaway from her salon coiffed hair, a nervous smile gracing her brightly painted lips.

“Hello, Ms. Bancroft, My name is Kitty. Kitty Carlton. I used to help your grandmother with the housekeeping. I’m here to offer my services to you when you reopen.” The woman’s high-pitched words strung out in one big breath.

“Hi, Kitty. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Abby’s lips pulled back, exposing her teeth, but a smile took a long time to form. She extended her hand to shake Kitty’s limp one. The woman’s clammy grasp reminded her of the worms she used to put on the hooks when she went fishing in the pond behind one of their many apartments in L.A. She did her best not to shake off the feeling when she let go or rub her hands across her jeans. Abby motioned for Cole to join her. “Thanks for your offer. I don’t need anyone quite yet. Not until the beginning of May. Cole and I are just going over the remodeling that needs to be done before I reopen, aren’t we, Cole?”

“Cole? Cole who? I’d heard that you came alone.” Kitty’s open curiosity stung at the privacy Abby guarded carefully. The less people knew about her personal life, the less likely they were to hurt her emotionally. A lesson she should learn with Cole, yet somehow she sensed, or maybe hoped, he’d be different.

Cole stepped out of the shadows. “Hello, Mrs. Carlton.”

All the color fled from the elderly woman’s face, her voice frigid with contempt. “You have some nerve showing your face in this town, Cole Preston.”

Abby’s stomach nose-dived to her feet. Between the handshake and her reaction to Cole, the woman wasn’t making a good lasting impression on her. It was all she could do not to shut the door in Kitty’s face, yet if she did, word would get around and probably ruin her chances of fitting in. Or would siding with Cole destroy it? Indecisions clawed at her until she knew what she had to do. “Why? He’s come to do the work.”

Kitty’s piercing gaze stayed on Abby. “He’s trouble, that one. A bad seed like his dad. I wouldn’t let him inside my house or anywhere near my property.”

The woman’s remarks continued to upset Abby. No one deserved such rude treatment no matter what the circumstances. If anyone should hold a grudge, it should be Abby, and yet she couldn’t find the way to do it. He had come to do the work after all, even if he was a year late. She lifted her chin and clenched her hands together. There was no way she’d ever hire Kitty Carlton to do one lick of work inside her home without a huge attitude adjustment. “Thanks for stopping by. When Cole and I are done with the remodel, I’ll let you know if I need your services.”

“Why, after what happened and how he killed your grandparents—”

“Now, now, Kitty. You know that’s not true. Charles had a bad heart and Sally couldn’t go on without him.” Mrs. Wendt tsked as she climbed up the front steps with a plate of fresh baked cookies in her hand. The aroma of oatmeal and cinnamon drifted by Abby’s nose, carried in on a small gust of cold air. “Besides, if I remember correctly, it was his partner that took the money. Why don’t you go bother someone else with your lies and sour attitude and leave these two alone?”

Abby could have hugged her neighbor as the other woman retreated down the steps. “Goodbye then.”

“Good riddance is more like it. Maybe if she found the Lord, she’d be more forgiving and accepting. Hi, Abby. Cole. It is good to see you again. It’s time you came home.” The older woman raised her eyebrows and stepped past him. Once inside the foyer, she glanced around. “My, my, this place does need some work, doesn’t it?”

“Hi, Mrs. Wendt. Yes. Abby and I were just going through what needs to be done.” Cole wedged a hand through his hair and stepped back. His gaze met Abby’s.

“Why, that’s wonderful. That means you’ll be here for a while.” Speculation sprinkled the elderly woman’s expression. “Phillip will be tickled. You don’t happen to have a son that can shovel our walk now, do you? Or rake our leaves or mow our lawn?”

“No. I’m not married.”

“Not married? What a shame.” Mrs. Wendt winked at Abby. “You’d be a fine catch for some lucky, single, young lady. Abby, I made you some cookies and came by to retrieve my casserole dish.”

Cole’s stiffening back didn’t go unnoticed. Her neighbor’s words made him uncomfortable; her, too. Abby wasn’t here to find romance.

“How’s your husband doing?” Cole questioned, as if trying to steer the conversation to a more neutral ground.

Abby released the breath she held and filled her lungs with much needed oxygen. Mrs. Wendt’s gaze kept darting between the two of them and mischief crept into her smile. Dread filled Abby. Cole had admitted earlier he wasn’t the stay-around-for-the-long-haul kind of guy.

“Just fine, though his arthritis is acting up with the cold weather. He wants to move but I can’t imagine leaving Dynamite Creek for Phoenix. This is my home and where I’m needed. So, Cole. Where are you staying while you do the restorations?” All innocence fled the woman’s expression and Abby’s knees threatened to have a meeting with the thin rug under her feet.

Abby watched Cole back up until the railing stopped him. “I haven’t given that much thought, Mrs. Wendt. My first priority was to come here and get started on the house.”

“Well, I know it’s not much, but Phillip and I have a small apartment above the garage that we’ve been wanting to rent out for a while. That way you won’t have a long commute to work.” Determination gleamed in her eyes. The woman’s grin released a million butterflies in Abby’s stomach.

It took a few seconds for Cole to formulate an answer that Abby suspected was more for her benefit than Mrs. Wendt’s. “That’s very kind of you and it would be convenient. I haven’t had a chance to speak to my sister, but I suspect her place probably isn’t big enough for a semi-temporary guest and my mother’s is out of the question.” Cole’s gaze flipped between the two. “As long as you understand it’s nothing permanent. I’ll be moving on when I’m done here.”

Relief and disappointment filled Abby, yet she schooled her expression to remain neutral. It was nothing she hadn’t expected anyway.

“I understand completely. I’ll go put fresh linens on the bed and find the extra key. Oh, and I have a coupon for Mama Zita’s. It’s the best pizza in town, you know. Phillip can’t have it because of his high cholesterol, but you just have to try it tonight. Neither one of you had any dinner plans, did you? No? Good. I’m sure you’ll still have lots to discuss for what needs to be done here.” Helen thrust the plate of cookies into Abby’s hands and hummed on her way out the door.

Abby’s jaw dropped and the butterflies inside her refused to be stilled. With Cole living next door during the restorations, she’d find no peace of mind at all. Especially when his new landlady appeared to have matchmaking on her mind.