“Yeah, I guess.” Motorcycles were probably an acquired taste, but she didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
As Mike walked her up the pavestone path to the cottage, he gave her a final pep talk, reminding her of kismet and God’s mysterious ways. “Man, is this place ever cool.” He whistled. “A lot of folks would pay big bucks just to stay here.”
“Uh-huh.” She opened the wooden door, eager to disappear inside for a while.
“You’re going to be okay.” His eyes were sincere as he set her groceries on an antique oak dining table. “I’ll be praying for you every day.”
She thanked him again and nudged him toward the door, afraid that she was about to beg him to take her back, despite her general reservations about motorcycles. After he left, she closed and locked it—leaning her back against the thick solid wood in an attempt to calm herself and breathe evenly. She could do this.
“Time to put on your big-girl pants,” she gently scolded herself. “Just take it one step at a time.” She started by putting her perishable groceries into the candy apple red fridge. It was a vintage reproduction and fairly roomy—and looked perfect in the old-fashioned kitchen. The cupboards were painted a creamy white, and the countertops matched the fridge. The tiny gas range really was vintage, complete with a shiny teakettle. And when she tested a burner, it worked.
From the cheerful braided rug on the pine floor to the rich golden stucco walls where mullion windows were curtained with red-and-white checks, it was all just perfect.
The living room area next to the kitchen fit an easy chair and ottoman, slip-covered in old-fashioned calicos, as well as an antique wooden rocker that was positioned in front of a small stone fireplace. She carried her duffel bag to a cozy but charming bedroom that was furnished with a white iron bed topped with a cheery patchwork quilt in shades of blues and yellow. Above the bed hung an original seascape. Leroy’s late wife had not skimped on anything.
Everything about this guesthouse felt like perfection, and Brynna was reminded of what Sophie had said while pointing it out to her the other day. “Mom started to refurbish it a couple of years before she got sick. We girls were all in school at the time, and I guess she needed a project to keep her busy so she had it completely gutted. Then she redid the interior. Dad wasn’t too pleased about the expense, but he gave in. Mom wanted everything perfect for when her mother came to visit. But Grandma Jenson passed away before she could ever make it here ... and the next year Mom got sick.” Then they’d both stood outside the little cottage without speaking. Brynna had wanted to tell Sophie that she understood since she’d lost both her parents at a young age. But she’d been so obsessed with getting out of her predicament that she’d been unable to even form the words.
Now, after completing her full tour of the tiny guesthouse’sinterior, Brynna paused to examine an intricate cross-stitched piece hanging by the front door. It had the image of a Tudor cottage quite similar to this one. But it was the words that got to her.
Brynna read them aloud. “‘By wisdom a house is built ... and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures.’ Proverbs 24:3–4.”
For a long moment, she stood there thinking on the meaning of that Scripture, focusing on the three substantial words.Wisdom, understanding, knowledge. Weren’t those the sort of qualities she hungered for in her own life? Perhaps those were characteristic of Sophie’s mother—Leroy’s wife. Brynna suddenly wished she could’ve known this woman whose life had been cut short. She felt certain she would’ve admired her. As Brynna turned away from the wall hanging, gazing out the window that overlooked the lush green vineyard slopes, she felt a cool wetness on her cheeks. She was crying. But these tears were not for herself.
Leroy felt aggravated by the loud rumbling noise disturbing his quiet morning coffee. He’d gotten up early, brewed a quick pot of coffee, then slipped out to his front porch. Partly to avoid the houseful of yammering women, but more so to enjoy the peaceful serenity of a gorgeous, golden morning. But that confounded motorcycle headed down the vineyard road was spoiling everything.
He stood, indignantly staring down the bike that dared steal his peace. If this was his new office manager’s main mode of transportation, her employment might be short-lived. The idea of an employee tearing around the vineyard on a noisy Harley was disturbing. He watched the shiny blue bike as it turned down the graveled driveway that led to the guesthouse, confirming it was the new office manager. But why were theretwopeople on the bike? One looked like a big bear of a man, and the other one wasn’t much bigger than a kid.
As the bike disappeared from Leroy’s sight line, the engine noise quieted to an idle. After a couple of minutes, the loud machine roared again, and the bear man drove down the road toward the main highway.Good riddance!
Leroy was still shaking his head in disgust when Gina padded out in her bare feet and pajamas, holding her own mug of steaming coffee. “What was that awful noise?” she asked him.
“I assume it’s the new office manager,” he grumbled back.
“Sounded more like a motorcycle to me.” She took a sip, peering down the road where a trail of dust was still faintly visible.
“Itwasa motorcycle. A Harley.” He sat back down.
She pulled the other rocker near his. “Our new manager has a Harley?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so. Although Sophie mentioned a motorcycle. The Harley arrived with two and left with one. A great big guy driving it. I guess he just dropped off our new manager.”
“So our manager’s got a motorcycle man?” Gina chuckled.
Leroy shrugged. “Sophie said she’s not married.”
“Maybe the motorcycle man is her boyfriend.” Gina’s brows arched. “Does that mean he’ll be living in the guest cottage too?”
“Good grief, I hope not.” Leroy felt a fresh surge of aggravation. “Sophie wouldn’t have okayed that ...would she?”
“I don’t know, Dad. She seemed pretty eager to hire this chick.”
“Well, I’ll put my foot down if she did. That guy is not going to be living here.” Leroy set his coffee mug on the side table with a thud. “And if the new manager thinks he is, I might as well go tell her right now. Before they get all settled in and—”
“Oh, Dad.” Gina put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be so old-fashioned.”
“Call me old-fashioned, but this ismyproperty, Gina. And I can maintain my standards on my property. I wouldn’t let my girls have live-in boyfriends here, and I sure won’t have an employee doing it either.”
“Please, Dad. Don’t make a scene. You don’t know what’s going on. What if you charge in there and scare the poor woman to death?”
