Meryl turned her head. That sounded so much like something Spencer might say that Meryl almost laughed.
Frank glanced sideways at her. “I think that’s why she left it to you.”
Meryl said, “Because she trusted me to find the right person for the house.”
Frank glanced at her over the rim of his mug. “I think she trusted you to know who that was.”
Meryl looked out at the cottage, the porch, the path, and the rose they had just cut back. The house deserved to find its next special someone. And she owed it to Hilda to make that happen.
When Frank left a little later, he did so with the promise that he would return with more tools and help her with the rest of the garden.
After his truck had gone, Meryl stood alone on the porch with her thoughts.
Or one thought in particular. If she chose Pine Cottage, would Pine Cottage choose her?
Chapter Ten – Spencer
It’ll be fine,Spencer’s bear assured him as he drove to Pine Cottage the day after their disagreement over the beam.
Spencer wasn’t so sure. Meryl might be his mate, but he didn’t know her well enough to guess what mood he was going to find her in today.
But he had a plan to keep things on neutral ground. Or, more precisely, a visit to Olson’s Architectural Salvage. The place was on the outskirts of town, a sprawling yard filled with everything from vintage doorknobs to reclaimed timber that could give Pine Cottage exactly what it needed. It would also give Spencer and Meryl what they both needed: a break from Pine Cottage.
That was exactly what Spencer intended. He’d spent half the night thinking about how to bridge the gap between them after their argument. The salvage yard seemed like the best solution, practical enough to be necessary, but different enough from the cottage to ease some of the strain between them.
When he pulled up to Pine Cottage, Meryl was already outside. She stood on the porch wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, with her hair pulled back. The sight of her made him regret their falling out even more.
She’s waiting for us,his bear said happily.That’s a good sign.
Hopefully,Spencer replied.I mean, she could be waiting to tell us she no longer wants our help.
No,his bear insisted.Never.
There was only one way to find out.
Spencer parked and got out, trying to act natural, as if nothing had happened. “Morning,” he called.
Meryl looked up. Her expression was guarded, but not cold. “Morning.”
“I thought we might try a different approach today,” he said, climbing the steps. “There’s a salvage yard about twenty minutes from here. Olson’s. They’ve got some period hardware that might work for the cottage. Door hinges. Window latches. Maybe even some trim that matches what’s already here.”
She tilted her head slightly. “Salvage yard?”
“It’s where old houses go to donate their organs,” he said, then immediately regretted the awkward metaphor.
But Meryl’s mouth twitched. “Poetic.”
“Practical,” he corrected. “No sense buying new when old will match better. And it’s usually cheaper.”
That caught her attention, just as he’d hoped. “How much cheaper?”
“Depends on what we find. But worth looking, don’t you think?”
She hesitated, and he could almost see her weighing the offer against the lingering tension from yesterday.
That’s it,his bear encouraged.Give her space to decide.
“I do. Let me get my purse,” she said finally.
