“Didn’t your dad fall in love with your mom at first sight?”
“He just said that—it made for a great story. But how could he really?”
“I wouldn’t have believed it until I met you on the trail last fall, but now I believe his story. Maybe it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, but... I knew you were someone I wanted to know better. And every succeeding moment with you has confirmed my first impression. When I’m with you, I feel...” he exhales softly, searching for the word, “exhilarated—like I can do anything, but at the same time, I feel rooted and safe. I find you endlessly fascinating, and I want to know everything about you—what you think, what you care about. And the thought of you not in my life...” He shakes his head. “That’s not something I can just accept. I’ve never felt this level of connection with anyone before.”
Every word he says is sweet agony... because I feel the same. I don’t understand how it happened, how in a matter of weeks Edward Frechette has become my favorite person—just being near him is enough to make me happy. I don’t know if that’s love, but I know it’s something.
But I am not going to admit it to him. He can’t derail his career because of me.
“Okay, for the sake of argument,” I say, because if he keeps saying all these pretty things, I’ll cave. “Let’s say we start dating, and to please me, you walk away from the Norland Project. You’d get fired, and your mom would be furious. And the project would still happen, and you’d always resent me.”
“I wouldn’t. I swear.”
“You don’t know that. Let’s consider the alternative. Because your happiness matters to me, I give you my blessing to go ahead with the Norland project. You make a lot of money and get promoted. And then I lose my job. At first I might not care, but eventually, I might resent you.”
“Why do you have to be so damn reasonable?” He says sitting back in the chair.
“I don’t know,” I say in a soft, sad voice. “It drives my momand sister crazy.”
“Here’s the thing, Elinor. Maybe you’re beingtooreasonable. I don’t think anyone would ever describe me as a starry-eyed dreamer, but I think we can find a compromise. You’re not the only one who loves this place.Ilove it, and my grandpa did too. I think that’s why he left me the cottage. We can build your treehouses and upgrade the facilities but still preserve the heart of this place.”
I so desperately want to believe him, but I can’t. I know numbers, and I know this business. The investors Steele Properties is counting on would not be onboard with that plan. “I would love that, Edward. I really would. I just don’t see how it’s possible. You’re trying to build a relationship on a pipe dream.”
At first, Edward doesn’t answer. The clock on the wall ticks through two painfully long minutes before he asks, “So what do we do now?”
“You should do whatever you want. Don’t feel guilty about kicking us out. I promise not to take it personally.”
“That’s it? We’re just giving up?”
“Don’t you see, Edward? We would hurt each other more in the end if we tried.”
“I don’t see it that way.” He swallows hard. “But... I guess you’ve made up your mind.” He stands, lingering for a moment like he wants to say something else. “I... I’ll let you get back to work.”
He walks to the door. “Goodbye, Elinor.”
“Goodbye, Edward.” I barely get the words out, willing my voice not to crack.
Edward shuts the door behind him, and my head falls to my desk, Grandma Nora’s portrait looking down at me with sympathy.
Oh! worse than cold-hearted! —Sense and Sensibility
25
Elinor
My mom and sister are waiting for me when I get home that evening.
“So... ?” Annie hops up from the piano bench. “How did it go? Where’s Edward?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened? Aren’t you two . . . together?”
“No,” I look away. “I don’t know why everyone keeps assuming that.”
“I saw that kiss!” Annie turns to my mom who is sitting on the love seat with a book and a bowl of popcorn. “I’ve never seen two people so madly in love. I felt a little indecent, watching the two of you.”
I give a quiet, humorless laugh. “Then why did you?” I ask, taking a seat on the ottoman.
