Abbie shook her head. “No, it’s got to be this one.” She slipped through a doorway and found herself, through a series of twists and turns, in the kitchen. With the stainless-steel appliances and gas stove, it seemed it was the only room on the main floor that had any amount of updating.
“I’m not writing your offer.”
“It’s a shame they had to take out the original kitchen, but I get it.” Abbie traveled slowly around the island in the center of the spacious room, admiring the pot rack that hung over it. She may not be as talented a cook as Erin, but in a kitchen like this, she could try. “I can work with this.”
“The seller won’t take a dime under her asking price.”
“Can’t hurt to ask.” But seeds of doubt had found their way in. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, Mrs. Hampton wasn’t likely to lower her price just to help Abbie’s dreams come true.
Christy’s phone chimed. “I need to take this.” Two steps from the doorway, she stopped. “Wrap it up. We’re leaving in two minutes.”
Abbie moved to the back door, staring out into the spacious yard and the gazebo she’d admired for as long as she could remember. There was a time she dreamed about sitting out there with her laptop. Dog by her side. Logan tinkering with some crooked board or pesky nail. Or maybe he’d spend his time in the barn or sprucing up the horse corral. He’d always wanted horses of his own.
A blissful life, or it was supposed to be. One that didn’t involve bucking bulls capable of killing a man in mere seconds.
“Time to go,” Christy called. “I have to go write an offer before the next showing.”
Abbie mourned the loss of an opportunity to check out the upstairs and her long-admired round tower. “We can come back, right?”
“Only if you come up with another fifty thousand dollars for your down payment.”
“But—”
Christy pulled on Abbie’s arm, dragging her back to the front door. Once they were on the porch and the door was locked behind them, Christy turned to her client. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up, Abbs. There’re three more showings scheduled just today. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I get it.” But inside, her heart twisted. She’d waited years for this house to come up for sale. She’d always known it was meant to be—Ours. The simple word jolted her. Because she’d always pictured living here with Logan.
* * *
The overcast sky fit Abbie’s dim mood as she walked down the main strip. She really did love this little town and its picturesque downtown. But right now, she couldn’t fully appreciate it. Not with the knowledge that her beloved dream house would probably have multiple offers by the end of the week.
Her mom was watching Gibbs, but she wouldn’t mind if Abbie stopped off somewhere before she picked him up. Her first instinct was to check in at the office. She’d scanned her emails this morning at home, but it wasn’t the same. She thought about it until the moment her fingers wrapped around the metal handle of theGazette’sfront door.
“What am I doing?” she muttered. She couldn’t go in there. Vince would want an update about the interview. No way he hadn’t heard Logan was in town. Her uncle had an uncanny ability to learn things before everyone else, a secret she hoped he’d pass along. She wasn’t ready to tell him that Logan flat-out refused. She wished it was that easy to get out of the assignment entirely, but she knew her uncle too well.
Letting go of the handle, she walked away, unnoticed by huddled co-workers she saw through the window. She’d stop for a coffee instead.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Erin said, bumping Abbie with her shoulder inside the quaint, quirky coffee shop that opened its door earlier that spring. TurningthePage doubled as a bookstore and had become quite the popular spot in town. It was something Starlight had never been able to support before the TV reality show came to town.Guess it’s notallbad.
She managed a weak smile.
“I’m so sorry, Abbs.” Erin wrapped her in a hug as they waited for their orders.
“How did you know?”
“You didn’t call me. I had a feeling.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I know you love that house, but maybe it’s not meant to be.” Erin carried both their cups to a small table near a window next to an endcap of mystery novels. She nodded to Abbie to sit. “A house, especially one that size, is a big responsibility. It’s four bedrooms. Almost three acres. The upkeep alone would wear you out. You’ll be so busy chasing stories and learning the business . . . When would have time to do all that?”
Abbie let her head drop onto the table, an ugly, frustrated sigh escaping. She’d once dreamed about her and Logan living there together. The upkeep might be a little more manageable if she wasn’t forced to do it alone. “There won’t be any of that. Logan won’t do the interview.”
“The Abigail Bennington I know would never give up that easily. You’ve hardly tried.”
Running her hands down the sides of her face, Abbie groaned. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself. He’d get too much enjoyment out of that.”
“Maybe.”
