“Maybe.” She rose, hoping to break up the serious discussion. “I’ll go take up our dinner.”
“Can I help?”
“Could you refill our wine glasses? Then just head across the hall to the dining room. I’ll be there in a minute with our food.”
She turned and hurried off to the kitchen while Jonah headed to the bar cart, their serious conversation firmly set aside. For now.
Jonah carried the wine bottle into the elegant dining room and carefully refilled their glasses. The crystal stemware caught the light from the chandelier overhead, creating delicate patterns on the polished mahogany table. Ornately carved chairs sat around the table, each with richly upholstered seats.
His gaze traveled over the formal place settings, the silver candlesticks, and the ornate china cabinet displaying what he guessed were family heirlooms. The wallpaper featured a subtle damask pattern that complemented the heavy drapes framing bay windows that overlooked the garden.
“This is quite a dining room,” he said, setting the wine bottle on a silver coaster as Ellie entered the room and set their plates on the table.
“It’s the same table that’s been in our family for generations.” She sat down gracefully and smoothed her napkin across her lap. “Mother always said every proper home needed one.”
He thought of his own modest cottage on Wisteria Street with its small eating nook and basic furnishings. He’d spent his career as a craftsman, working with his hands, either fixing things at the ports he’d worked at or his woodworking hobby. But his own place had always been simple, functional.
And he’d never actually met Ellie’s mother. The Whitmores were old money, with generations of influence in the community. He’d known that even as a young man, but sitting here now, the differences in their backgrounds felt more pronounced.
“Your house is beautiful, Ellie.” He slipped into the seat across from her.
“It’s just a house,” she said, but her eyes softened as she gazed around the room. “Though I suppose I’ve grown rather attached to it.”
The evening light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow across the antique sideboard where family photos in silver frames captured moments of Ellie’s life with Theodore. Their wedding day, holidays, vacations—a whole history displayed with careful precision.
He sat up straight in his chair, feeling the weight of the years between them. He’d built a good life for himself, but it was worlds away from Ellie’s refined existence. She’d been surrounded by family while he’d been alone.
The question that had nagged at him since reconnecting with her surfaced again—could two people from such different worlds find common ground after all this time?
Chapter6
Mark descended the stairs early the next morning, lured by the aroma of fresh coffee and something cinnamony baking in the kitchen. The familiar scents reminded him of mornings with Sarah, but today the memory didn’t crush him quite as heavily as usual.
In the dining room, soft morning light filtered through the windows with a warm, cheerful glow. A few early risers occupied tables near the windows, speaking in hushed tones over steaming mugs.
Darlene looked up from arranging fresh flowers on one of the empty tables. “Good morning, Mr. Donovan. You’re up early today.”
“Mark, please.”
“That’s right. Mark.” She smiled.
“I thought I’d take your advice about exploring the island.” The words felt strange, like trying on an old jacket that didn’t quite fit anymore. Since Sarah’s death, his world had shrunk to his desk and blank pages or pacing around his house. Not going out and roaming an island to see what it held in store for him.
“Coffee first?” Darlene gestured to the carafe on the sideboard.
He poured himself a cup, savoring the rich scent. “I could use some suggestions on where to start.”
“The lighthouse is beautiful this time of morning.” Darlene moved to the counter and pulled out a fresh batch of yeasty cinnamon rolls from the warming drawer. “The view from up there puts everything in perspective. Or if you prefer staying at sea level and don’t want to climb all the stairs, the boardwalk’s perfect for a morning walk. Lots of cute shops along the way.”
“The lighthouse might be good.” Mark accepted a cinnamon roll, remembering how Sarah used to joke about his sweet tooth. “I could probably use a new perspective.”
“It’s about a twenty-minute walk from here. Head out to Main Street and cut over to Seaside Avenue, walk to the end. You can’t miss it.” Her eyes crinkled with warmth. “And if you get hungry later, after all that exercise, Coastal Coffee is right on the boardwalk. It’s an excellent place to grab a bite of lunch.”
“Thank you.” He settled at a small table by the window, watching early morning sunlight dance across the bay in the distance. Maybe Darlene was right. Maybe what he needed wasn’t to force the words, but to look at the world differently. A new perspective.
He finished his breakfast, tucked his notebook into his jacket pocket more out of habit than intention, waved to Darlene, and stepped out into the warm morning air. For the first time in he didn’t know how long, he felt a flutter of something thatmighthave been anticipation.
Darlene watched Mark leave. He’d seemed to relax as he’d eaten his meal and gave her a friendly wave as he left. She hoped he had a good time exploring today, though she wasn’t sure if she’d pushed him into it, or whether it truly was a good idea for him. She knew nothing about writer’s block. But she did know about sometimes needing a day for herself. Not that she got many of those, owning the B&B.
