Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 92996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92996 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“This looks ancient,” she said, and I heard the awe in her voice. “The stones are beautiful.”
There was a waft of lavender and lemon verbena then, and I knew my grandmother was listening in.
Shelby closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “I might need to live here forever.”
I smiled at her, and then she watched me ladle out soup and carried each of the heavy bowls to the table.
When Liam asked where the napkins were and one of the drawers bumped open, he went right over, saying his childhood house in Boston was haunted too. “That’s what originally got me interested in the paranormal.”
“What makes you think my cottage is haunted?”
“Just helpful spirits,” he answered, smiling sheepishly. “It feels so safe in here.”
It was a lovely compliment.
They devoured their food, and when Lorne rejoined us with damp hair, changed into an old pair of lived-in jeans and a T-shirt, he had a bowl too and some sourdough instead of the soda bread. Everyone wanted to try some of that as well.
“Yeah, but this is mine,” he grumbled but ended up sharing.
I had strawberries and cream for them, which they all gushed over, and then finished it off with some lemon balm tea because I wanted them to sleep well.
They all helped do the dishes, and since there were no leftovers, there was nothing else to put away.
Lorne showed them where the second bathroom was. “Fast showers,” he directed with a glare, and Meijun said, “Yes, sir,” before taking the big fluffy towel he offered her—there was a basket with four of them that he had carried from the linen closet—and closed the door behind her.
The others sat in our living room, near the fireplace—Lorne had moved the coffee table to make space—trying not to nod off. It was cute how they kept jolting awake.
“Since when is there a shower in the second bathroom?” I asked him quietly.
The rakish smile I got made my stomach flip over, even though I was exhausted. “Since our wonderful home knows I don’t want strangers—even nice ones, who are young and helpless—in my bathroom.”
“So instead of the clawfoot bathtub that’s been there since the last century, and the small stove to warm the water, there’s a fully functioning shower?”
“Correct,” he said, rubbing his hand over the worn kitchen counter. “And there’s freshly laundered towels as well because my girl loves me and knows I feel the same.”
The waft of orange pomander at that was amazing. Normally, in the fall and winter, I put simmer pots on all day and night because I could. One of my favorites contained dried orange slices, cloves, nutmeg, star anise, and cinnamon sticks. Not only was it a tidy little protection spell—which wasn’t needed here, but still—it also smelled heavenly. Lorne had loved it, and now, suddenly, without the benefit of a pot, the scent was rolling through the house.
“Oh,” Shelby said from where she was on the floor, and I saw the tears welling in her eyes. “My gran always had orange pomanders every Christmas.”
“I never want to leave here,” Liam said and gave up, lying down on the floor where, of course, there were now folding futons and light cotton blankets. He fell asleep in seconds.
Meijun came out of the bathroom, dubbed that the best shower she’d ever taken in her life, stumbled over to where the others were, in front of the unlit fireplace, and lay down.
“Stay here and protect me, okay?” she asked Argos, curling up beside him, asleep the moment she closed her eyes. If she only knew how truly safe he could keep her.
Jeremy, on the other side of Argos, was facedown, spread out like a starfish, utterly comatose. Shelby rose slowly and shuffled to the bathroom.
Meijun had nearly kept all her dirty clothes together when she was done showering, but she’d stumbled a bit at the end. I collected the shirt and socks that had fallen out of her duffel, put them inside, zipped it up, and put the bag on the hearth seat.
As a good host, I needed to wait for Shelby to emerge before going to take my own shower, so I sat at the kitchen table and watched Lorne check all the doors, make sure the gas stove was off, then turn on the gas lamp beside the sink. He didn’t have to do any of that—the cottage watched over everything, from the hearth roaring all winter to the open windows in the summer—but I think it found his care and worry charming, as evidenced by all the things it did for him, from making sure the floors were warm in autumn to letting the breeze flow through in spring.
Historically, there was no electricity in the cottage, only gas. But since Lorne moved in, there were solar panels on the roof connected to a battery storage system for the TV and new refrigerator. It had been a lot of changes in a short time, but though initially I’d been hesitant to alter the cottage that had been the same for generations, I realized that renovations were healthy, especially when you were making them for a good reason. Or for the one you loved.