“Perhaps that’s why my family is full of dreamers.”
“Except you?”
“Except me. I’ve learned from watching my family. If you don’t dream, you’re not disappointed. Annie suffers several heartbreaks a year, while I keep my head down and bring in the paycheck.”
“What happened to the little girl who insisted we make the world’s best sandcastle?”
“She grew up. My childhood may have felt like a fairytale, but if it wasn’t for the goodness of your grandpa giving my dad a job, we might have starved.”
“I’m glad he did that. I’m not used to thinking of my grandpa as particularly altruistic. There’s so much I don’t know about him. One of the worst things about losing him is that I’ve lost my chance to ask questions.”
“I bet you miss him like crazy.”
“I do. Sometimes my sense of loss feels excessive, considering how frustrating he could be. He was always lecturing me and giving me unsolicited advice. I thought I hated it, but now all I want to do is ask him for more.”
“What was some of the best advice he gave you?”
“He used to say, ‘Don’t let temporary people do permanent damage to your life.’”
“That is good. I need to remember that.”
“Some of his advice was a little out there. He was always telling me to get married as fast as I could. Which is funny, because his five marriages made memorecautious about dating.”
“You weren’t that cautious with me. You asked me out in a matter of minutes.”
“Yeah, well,” He blushes and looks away. “Because with you, I just knew.” He gives me a half smile and it stops my heart.
But how could he know, when he had only just met me? Then again,Ihave only just met Edward, and there are already things I know about him. He doesn’t want to kick us out. He isn’t being entirely honest with me. And I suspect that he wants to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him—though we are both too responsible to do anything so foolish. More’s the pity.
What have wealth or grandeur to do with happiness? —Sense and Sensibility
14
Edward
This is it—the last stop on my private tour with Elinor. I’m sorry to see it end—not simply because she’s my new favorite person, but because before I leave, I have to fess up.
If I’m going to have any chance with Elinor, I need to tell her that I own Bumble Cottage—and that I haven’t been entirely open about the current plans to revamp Norland Park. I’m confident I can sell Lucinda on the boutique treehouses, but there’s no way she’ll sign off on scrapping glamping in favor of regular camping.
I’m not sure if I need to tell Elinor all my misgivings, but I owe her something. We’re not dating. We’re not exactly friends either, but... she feels like so much more than a business acquaintance.
We walk down the tunnel of trees leading to the cove. Gnarled oak branches arch above us, their shiny dark green leaves providing dappled shade. I remember this walk well. A stream gurgles alongside the path through thick snake grass. In twenty years, so much has changed in my life, but this place has stayed the same. I suppose the trees have grown, but it’s hard to tell because so have we.
We step out of the tree tunnel into the sunshine of the private beach. The creek runs into the water, fanning out as it meets the sandy shore. Several children wade in the shallows of the stream trying to catch small fish. I half expect to see my younger self.
We walk to the far edge of the sheltered cove past most ofthe beachgoers. I point to the towering pile of gray rocks. “That’s the castle, right? And beyond that is the grotto we called the pirate cave?”
“You’re right, but it’s filled with water right now. Just past it is the small sandy beach.”
“I remember. Our own private beach. Could we wade around to it?” I want to take off my shoes and cross through the water.
“I’m afraid not, the tide is too high right now.”
“Maybe another day,” I say.
“Maybe,” she says, but she doesn’t sound very hopeful.
“It’s weird,” I say, “how the world can move on, and yet this place—it feels the same.”
