“Edward, please!” I put my head in my hand. “This is notthe time to flirt.”
“I’m not flirting. I’m telling you how it was. How it is. I came here last week with the express purpose of giving you a month’s notice, and I—I just couldn’t do it. I figured there had to be some way to save the cottage. I can’t bear to see it torn down”
“At least that’s something we agree on.”
“I had planned to tell you when you gave me the tour of the park. But then we just started talking about life and feelings. It never seemed like the right moment. And then I lost my head there on the beach... and...” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “You know what happened.... And now I’ve ruined everything.”
I do feel a little sorry for him. I bring out the tin of cookies and slide it across my desk. He takes one out distractedly.
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
“I’m still working on the plans for the park. I believe there’s a way we can keep the cottage and still develop the park.”
“Those plans for the park are further along than you hinted, aren’t they?”
He pauses before biting the chocolate chip cookie.
“Nothing’s settled. Lucinda exaggerated about where we are in the planning phase. But yeah, I may have understated how far along we are.”
“If you renovate the park, I won’t have a job here, will I?”
“I’ll make sure you have one.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You have already misled me enough about the property and... everything else.”
“Elinor.” He says my name soft and gentle like he cares. And maybe he does. He says he’ll make things right, but can I believe him? “I planned to tell you all of this today. But then Lucinda beat me here.”
“It’s fine . . . I mean it’s not.”
“I brought something for you.” He sets a large flat packageon my desk.
“Should I open it?” I ask with trepidation. The shape of the package makes me suspect that it’s a painting, maybe the one I gave him. And it makes me sad to think of him giving it back to me.
“If you like.”
“I’d rather not right now.” I’m feeling too much right now. I need some time alone.
“Okay, I get it. Time for me to go.” He stands up, jamming his hands in his pockets. “I really am sorry.”
“I know.” I wave him out the door. “Go... I might be angry with you, but I don’t want you fired.”
As soon as he is gone, I open the note card attached to the parcel. There’s no reason for my heart to flutter at the sight of his handwriting, but it still does.
Elinor,
I thought you should have this.
Yours,
Edward
Yours.Was that word intentional or is it his standard sign off? It feels intentional.
I tear open the brown paper to find a painting wrapped in bubble wrap and archival tissue paper. I pull back the paper and take in the painting. This might be the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received.
It’s the portrait of my grandma Nora. The one Reginald Norland kept in his study. She’s sitting in a straight back chair, wearing a black dress and large pearls with her hair up in a bun. Her red lips twist in a knowing smile, and her dark eyes hold so much—mirth, and affection, and a weary sadness. I have no idea how my mom captured so much emotion with a few strokes of a brush. This is why I refuse to call myself an artist—becausemy mom is truly gifted. I absolutely adore the painting. It’s some of my mom’s best work. Plus, I’ve always felt a closeness for this grandmother I’ve never met. My dad was always telling Grandma Nora stories. If there is such a thing as guardian angels, I’d like to think Grandma Nora is mine.
Admiring the painting, my heart softens toward Edward. It was good of him to give it to me. It’s far too generous of a gift for a mere acquaintance, but I find I don’t care. I’m keeping it. Because I love it so much, but also becauseheknew that I would love it.
