“So this house has remained empty since then?”
He nodded. “I considered selling it, but it’s been in my family so long.”
“And it’s a beautiful house.” She gazed around the dark paneled dining room. “Do you ever wish these walls could talk?”
He frowned. “Not particularly.”
“Do you have unhappy memories here?”
“No, not at all. Some of my happiest memories were in this house.”
“Have you ever considered living here?”
“No ... it’s too big.”
“Are there any other family members who would want to live here? I know your brother was killed in Vietnam. But aunts or uncles, cousins?”
“My grandfather’s only brother was killed in World War I and he wasn’t married, no children. And my mother was an only child. She grew up here and would’ve inherited everything.”
“I see.”
“So I suppose I feel some sort of responsibility to this house.”
“Like it owns you—instead of the other way around?”
He nodded with a perplexed expression. “It does feel a bit like that.”
Willow didn’t know what to say. She was tempted to urge him to sell the old house—to be free of its hold and to allow another family to come here and love it. Yet, she had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate that sort of advice. “Well, it’s a lovely old home,” she said. “But honestly, that kitchen.” She laughed. “It’s so wrong.”
He smiled. “I know. I’ve always felt like it was a mistake.”
“You’re so smart about woodworking and all that,” she said. “I’m surprised you haven’t torn into it and restored it to something that matches the rest of this house.”
“Maybe I will.” He pursed his lips. “Although I don’t really know what it should look like. I don’t think a hundred-year-old stove would be too practical.”
“I know what I’d do to it.”
“You do?” He looked genuinely interested.
“I’d get some nice, tall wooden cabinets and maybe some open shelves too. Then I’d have soapstone countertops, and if money was no object, I’d get Wolf appliances. You know—those big oversized ranges and fridges. They have a sort of timeless look and that kitchen is big enough for something like that.” She paused to think. “For the floors, I’d use some kind of stone. Maybe even a checkerboard.”
“Interesting.” He nodded. “Those are good ideas. Maybe if I actually take this on, I’ll have to get you to help with the design.”
“Well, I certainly owe you for the way you’ve helped with Josie’s apartment.”
George pointed to his empty plate. “That was a pretty nice thank-you.”
“Did you really like it?”
He nodded. “I don’t go out for dinner much. And as you probably guessed, I’m not much of a cook. But I do enjoy a good meal occasionally. I must admit it feels rather special to have a meal here.” He looked around the room with a happy expression. “I’d forgotten how much I love this place.”
“It’s a lovely home.” She gathered their dishes.
“To be honest, I don’t look around much when I come up here. I just check on things, do the basic maintenance, make sure no one’s broken in ... then leave.”
“Well, the house feels a bit sad to me,” she admitted. “Like it’s lonely.”
“I know.” He nodded with a furrowed brow and she immediately regretted her negativity.
