Kim Watters - Home Sweet Home

“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.