As usual, I agreed. Cecily’s words had spoken straight to my heart, and in turn, she’d opened my eyes.
I made a trip to the mailbox, then to Village Books, delivering letters and picking up a small stack addressed to me. Afterward I took my sweet time walking home. I knew how few trips like this one I’d have before I returned to my life in progress in Willow Bend.
I planned to make big changes in the way I treated myself and interacted with my family, but I wasn’t sure six weeks would be enough time to cure all my problems. Something wiggled and itched in my mind, telling me I had more work to do.
I made my way to the study, eager to begin another routine I’d come to cherish. I tucked both feet beneath me on the velvet armchair and watched leaves fall from trees outside the study’s window. A new favorite indulgence. Time to be still and enjoy the beauty. For once, the silence didn’t feel stifling or oppressive. I felt swaddled and safe. I had a full evening of soaking and self-pampering ahead that would keep me busy until bedtime, and an entire day of visits, phone calls, and other things planned for tomorrow. The only question was how soon to run the bath and pour the wine.
I dragged my attention to the stack of letters in my hand. Paul wrote to me faithfully, and I’d begun receiving messages from Mom, Cecily, Daisy, and other classmates as well.
Headlights flashed over the drive, and the shape of a large pickup truck came into view a moment later.
Davis was back.
I watched, rapt, as he climbed down from his truck, no signs of Violet or his work gear, as he headed for my front door. Had heforgotten something when he left for the day? I rose to get closer to the window when he moved into the light cast from my porch. He wore fresh jeans and a button-down shirt, unbuttoned at the top to reveal the neckline of a white tee beneath. His hair, no longer damp with sweat, lifted on the breeze.
Maybe he’d come to visit me.
Why would he do that? And why did my heart skip recklessly at the prospect?
I glanced down at myself, still neatly dressed from a morning out with Cecily before she’d gone. I looked comfortable but cute, and shockingly not covered in ashes or dirt.
The doorbell rang, and I hooked curly hair behind my ears, straightened my glasses on my nose, and headed for the foyer.
I opened the door as casually as possible with my heart pounding erratically in my ears. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Davis smiled, appraising me slowly. “I was placing orders for materials and realized I need to get a measurement on something for the new en suite bath.” His eyes lifted over my head, indicating the rear portion of the manor where he’d been working. “I didn’t want to let myself in the back without letting you know I was here.”
“Well, come on in,” I said, slightly deflated.
He stepped into the foyer while I closed the door. “More letters from Paul?”
I glanced at the envelopes in my hand, suddenly—unreasonably—self-conscious, and set the stack on the table. “Among others,” I said.
“I was never great at writing. Much to the dismay of my aunt.” He grinned. “Luckily my taste in books seems to please her.”
A smile formed on my lips as I imagined Davis bantering with Grace about reading and writing.
Davis moved past me, slowing slightly as he passed the stairway. He gave the stained glass above the landing a long, silent look before continuing to the jobsite.
I softened as I watched and decided to wait in the kitchen for his return.
“Accomplish what you came for?” I asked when he reappeared a few minutes later.
“Almost. Need to grab a better measuring tape from the truck. Be right back.”
I lit the flame beneath a freshly filled kettle as he breezed to and from the front door. “Would you like to stay for hot chocolate?” I asked when he rounded the corner once more.
“I’d love to. Give me five minutes.”
“Perfect.” Cecily and I had bought a ton of toppings, and I hated when things went to waste.
Davis washed up at the sink a few minutes later, then took a seat at the table. He watched as I moved to the pantry.
“Water’s almost ready,” I said. “I’m grabbing the toppings.”
“Whipped cream and sprinkles?” he guessed.
As if this were amateur hour.
