“Then we’ll both have to live with disappointment,” she says with a slight smile. “Turn here.” She points to a narrow lane lined with trees. A deer grazing at the side of the road darts into the woods.
“Sorry the road isn’t paved,” she apologizes as I slow the car down. “Trust me, I asked, but your grandpa couldn’t see the point.”
“He would if he knew I’d be driving his precious Ferrari down this road.”
“Is this one of Mr. Norland’s cars?”
“Yes. Reginald loved to buy cars. And when his garages filled up, he gave me his hand-me-downs.”
“Garages?” she asks.
“He was a little excessive in his love for cars.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t know this. I would have found it so much more frustrating when he was chewing me out for buying expensive toilet paper for the park.”
“That is extreme. I never really knew my grandpa to be a cheapskate.”
“I always got the feeling that, for your grandpa, Norland Park was permanently stuck in the past. My salary certainly reflects that,” she chuckles. “I suspect he held on to the park for sentimental reasons.”
“That makes sense,” I say. Grandpa probably held on to Norland Park after he sold all his other businesses just so the Greenwoods could stay in Bumble Cottage. I’m glad he did—but I’m not going to say that to Elinor. Instead, I say, “Everyone has their penny-pinching tendencies, especially multimillionaires.”
“Really? Do you?”
“First, I’m not that rich.” I might be downplaying my wealth here. Compared to the average U.S. citizen I’m doing very well. But compared to everyone I grew up with, I’m nothing special.
Elinor’s muffled laugh tells me she doesn’t believe me—which is fair.
“But if you want to know, my thing is that I refuse to hire a handyman. I like to do home repairs myself.”
“And can you actually do all the repairs?” she asks.
“Sort of. Home repair was something my grandpa tried to teach me. I can patch a wall, hang a door, and unclog a sink or toilet. But our townhouse is more than a hundred years old, and sometimes my rudimentary skills are not enough. More than once, I’ve had to admit defeat and call the plumber. My mom wants to call the plumber the moment the problem shows up.”
“What I got out of that is that you still live with your mom,” she crows. I like how quick Elinor is to tease me. It makes me feel like we’re old friends—which I suppose we are.
“There’s no shame in that. All the cool kids are doing it. Don’t you live with your mom?”
“That’s different. You’re older than I am.”
“How do you know? I’m twenty-nine. How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight,” she says pettishly.
“Somuch older! And for the record my mom moved out two months ago.” We’re both laughing as we turn the corner.
There’s a break in the trees, and Bumble Cottage appears like a vision. Soft evening light bathes the house, perched on the hillside with its back to an ancient forest. The front porch faces the glittering ocean, and the windows, reflecting the lowering sunshine like sheets of gold. An evening mist swirls through the flower garden.
It’s like something from a dream. And I know that there’s absolutely no way I can sell this place. But I also have no idea how I can afford to keep it.
Her feelings were strong; but she knew how to govern them. —Sense & Sensibility
6
Elinor
I am half-way down the hall to the kitchen when I realize Edward isn’t following me. I spin around and march back to the porch. He stands facing the ocean, his hands spread on either side of him resting on the porch railing. Sunset is still a couple hours off, but the pre-sunset show of golden sky and dazzling water is impressive.
“Hey!” I call as I approach.
