Whatever else had happened during my time in Amherst, I was grateful for the progress I was finally making on me.
Chapter Nineteen
Cecily arrived two days later, an apple pie in hand. “I stopped at a roadside stand. I couldn’t help myself. I had cider. It was amazing.”
“Bless you,” I said, drawing her into a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She released me with a grin. “Back at ya.”
Her thick brown hair hung over her shoulders in carefully constructed waves, and she wore a fuzzy red wrap sweater and jeans in place of her usual scrubs.
She passed me the pie, then turned in circles as she moved through the foyer. “This place is incredible. It looks exactly like the online photos. If your SUV hadn’t been parked outside, I would’ve thought I landed back in time.”
“It’s pretty great,” I agreed, unsure if I ever wanted to leave.
“Show me around!” Cecily rocked onto her heels. “I want to see everything.” She dropped her overnight pack on the table beside my vase of fresh flowers. “Wait. Are these—”
“Yep.”
“Still no idea who sent them?”
“Nope.”
I glanced through the nearby window, where the sun had yet to set. If I hurried, I’d have time to show her around the manor and the town while it was still light. She was sure to go bonkers over downtown at sunset. I thought of Emily and her appreciation for nature and all itswonder. She’d written that nature never knocks, but also never intrudes. And I thought of it often in the fall.
“Let’s get started.” I set the pie on the table and clasped my hands. “The home was built in 1812,” I said, affecting an overly formal tour guide tone and leading the way through the foyer.
Cecily fell into step at my side.
We embarked on what I’d mistakenly thought would be a quick spin around the property, but Cecily was an obsessive history buff. Specifically where fashion and interior design were involved.
Cecily ran her fingertips over the wallpaper and wooden trim. We stared reverently at the ornately plastered ceilings and admired the study’s crown moldings until my neck hurt and my eyes dried out.
“Look at this fabulous handrail and spindles,” she said as we ascended the main staircase. “And this carpet runner is marvelous. I can picture us in nineteenth-century ball gowns, making our entrance to a party with men in tails and caterers carrying silver trays with champagne flutes.”
I paused on the landing to admire the stained glass. The stunning piece caught my eye on every trip up or down the stairs. “This might be my favorite detail,” I said. “In the morning, sunlight streams through and casts everything in a soft golden glow. It gives me goose bumps.”
Cecily stopped beside me, her attention sliding across the glass without interest. “Pretty.”
“Pretty?” I gaped. “You don’t have a lengthy and thorough description of the work? Or a story about its origins and relevance when compared to the overall design scheme?”
“Sadly, no. It doesn’t belong here.”
I frowned at her, then at the stained glass. “What?”
“It’s probably from this decade. Odd, because it’s the only thing I’ve noticed so far that doesn’t fit the era.”
When I didn’t move on, she added, “It looks high quality, and stained glass is certainly appropriate for the time, just not this particularpiece. The placement is nice, though, overlooking everything and creating that heavenly glow you mentioned. I can see why you enjoy it.”
Her words rattled around my head for a long moment. Then I suddenly saw the stained glass with new eyes. “Iris was Davis’s mother’s name.” Something told me the window represented her and her influence over him and this place.
“Davis lost his mother?” Cecily asked.
“To cancer,” I said, hooking my arm with hers and towing her onward. I had so much more to tell her. “Let’s talk about that after the tour.”
Three hours later, Cecily and I moseyed along Pleasant Street, feeling the warm buzz of local wine in our systems and the satisfaction of our very full stomachs. We’d created a personalized tasting tour of Amherst, stopping at each café to order small plates and generous pours. We finished every sip and bite between bouts of gossip and laughter.
In no hurry to go home, we’d decided to wander. Eventually we parked ourselves on a bench, the perfect seats to watch the unobstructed sky.
