Page 45

He nods. “Good. I’m not sure how today is going to go, but I’ll check in with you later.”

“Okay.”

“And if you need me for anything, call. I may not always be able to pick up, but I check my messages.”

I smile up at him. He seems almost reluctant to go, stalling a bit, and it’s cute.

“You’ve gotta go,” I remind him.

“Right.”

He takes my face in his hands and lays a sweet kiss on me, before he turns and lopes down the steps and over to his Explorer.

I stand on the porch, taking a sip of my hot coffee while watching his truck disappear from sight, before I take in my morning view for a moment. Glorious.

Then I head back inside to stoke the woodstove against the chill, and decide what project I’m going to tackle today.

My growling stomach is what finally drags me away from the tedious job of scraping the old, ugly wallpaper border from the living and dining room perimeter.

I figured I’d give first attention to the spaces I’d likely be spending most of my time in. It wouldn’t make sense to start shopping for suitable furniture for this large room until I’m done with the floors and the walls. Taking down the hideous border is something I can do without too much planning, and it’ll push me to make a decision on a paint color for the walls.

The wooden floors throughout the downstairs will require more preparation, since I’ll need to find a large sander I can rent—preferably one with a built-in vacuum—and many rolls of plastic to try and keep as much dust as possible out of the rest of the house.

It’ll be a ton of work, but these wide floor planks are definitely worth salvaging, they just need some TLC. The sanding alone will probably take me a few days, and I’d really like to get that done as soon as possible. It’ll probably be the messiest job on the main floor.

I don’t plan on taking out any walls here, leaving the layout the same, even in the kitchen. There is a logical flow in the way it has been set up, so I’m not going to change that, but there are definitely cosmetic changes I want to make.

Same thing for the powder room and the small office, which I’d really like to turn into a comfortable space. I envision it still working as a place where I can do some work, but I’d also like to introduce floor-to-ceiling shelving on the long wall for books, and a cozy reading nook by the window. I could see myself hanging out there on a lazy winter morning, having my coffee and reading my book as the snow falls outside.

I don’t have firm plans for upstairs yet—it’s for later concern anyway—but I know I’d like to reconfigure the large space that is now my bedroom to expand the closet to a walk-in and include an en suite bathroom.

I stuff the last of the scraps of wallpaper in the garbage bag I’ve been dragging along, before washing my hands at the kitchen sink. A quick sandwich for lunch will have to do, but I need to eat. I only had coffee and a banana for breakfast and I can’t live off that. I should probably also pull something from the freezer for dinner tonight.

I’m just trying to decide whether to defrost one or two chicken breasts, in case I have company for dinner, when my phone rings from the dining table where I left it.

I don’t recognize the number but answer it anyway.

“Am I speaking with Miss Dana Kerrigan?”

The man’s unfamiliar voice has a Southern twang I can’t quite place.

“This is she. Who am I speaking with?”

“Ah, Miss Kerrigan, a pleasure. My name is Henry Bennett, I’m an attorney from Seattle. I represent a client who is interested in a property I understand has recently come into your name. A plot and an old abandoned building at Fourteen Quarry Road in Silence. Is my information correct?”

I feel instantly uneasy. A few things seem off. First of all, the man doesn’t sound like he’d be from Seattle, I’d be more inclined to think one of the Gulf Coast states.

Next thing that occurs to me is this place has barely been in my possession a week. I didn’t get the key until last Saturday when I signed a few papers at the lawyer’s office. I don’t even know if all the official paperwork has been filed yet, or whatever it is that needs to be done to list me as the official owner. So where would this guy get his information?

Also, what is so urgent this lawyer is calling me on a Sunday?

And then, finally, who is this client? Who would even know of this place, let alone be interested in it?

I have way too many questions myself to be answering any of his.

“Mr…Bennett, was it? I’m afraid I can’t help you, but I can pass your information on to my lawyer so he can perhaps answer any questions you might have.”

I don’t really have a lawyer, other than the estate lawyer I met with last week, but he was kind and helpful. I’m hoping he won’t mind me claiming him as my representation.