Page 19 of The Birchwood House

This woman really has no respect for legal documentation,he thought, but instead of feeling irritated, he had to fight off another smile.

“Thank you very much,” she told him with a sharp nod, and then turned around and left his office in a breezy manner, her curls bouncing slightly.

Evan shook his head after the door had closed, thinking to himself that she would probably give up after about a week of trying to put everything in order. Most people usually did, since the process was far more complicated than anyone expected it to be.

Still,he thought,part of me would like to see her succeed. That spunky nature of hers is quite magnetic.

His cheeks flushed bright pink when he realized that he’d acknowledged to himself that he found her attractive. Shaking his head again, he sat back down at his desk. He refreshed his email inbox again, hoping desperately for an email or two. There was nothing. He groaned inwardly, wishing there was something for him to work on that would occupy his mind. Without work, he had an uncomfortable suspicion that his mind would linger on Audrey Lowe.

CHAPTER NINE

Elaine took a leisurely sip of her coffee as she sat at her kitchen table, pouring over her bills. Outside, a robin trilled in the budding crabapple tree and late morning sunlight spilled across the light brown wood of the kitchen table, dancing in flickering patterns.

Elaine hummed contentedly to herself as she worked. Upstairs, she could hear the sound of footsteps, and she smiled.

I love having company in the house,she thought, her heart warming.It’s so cheerful knowing there are people that I love somewhere nearby all the time.

She was just finishing the last bill when Michelle waltzed into the kitchen.

“Hi, Grandma!” she said, leaning over and kissing Elaine’s cheek. “I was thinking about tackling that hope chest today. I’m itching to see what’s inside of it. What do you say? Do you want to look through it with me?”

“Today?” Elaine glanced at the clock. She’d planned on tending to her garden, at least for part of the day. She liked to do it earlier in the day, while there was plenty of sunshine, during the cool early months of spring. And before that, she had to take her car over to the mechanic for some routine maintenance.

“Yes, I think we’d better.” Michelle leaned against the table and grinned. “My mom is dead set on getting all those permits that we need to make this place a historical attraction—so we’d better get started on uncovering those attractions.”

Elaine chuckled. She felt rejuvenated by the motivation that Michelle was exuding—and by the enthusiasm that Audrey showed every time she talked about turning their home into a historical site. Elaine had always loved her home, and she’d always been proud of it. She’d always felt deep down that she wanted to share it with other people, rather than keep so much fascinating history behind closed doors.

“I would really like to look through it,” she said with a grin. She glanced at her watch. “I have about half an hour before I need to take my car to the mechanic for some routine maintenance—an oil change and things like that. We could look through it for a while before I have to go?”

“Sounds great.” Michelle grinned, appearing to be very much in the mood to get things done. She held out her hands to Elaine and then tugged her grandmother to her feet. “Let’s go.”

Elaine laughed as Michelle hurried ahead of her up the stairs. Elaine couldn’t move as quickly as she once had, but she kept up a decent pace behind Michelle as she made a beeline for the room where the hope chest was.

As soon as Elaine stepped inside the familiar space, her heart filled with a sweet ache of nostalgia. A wave of memories swept over her as she looked around the room.

“Oh, I loved this room,” she said softly, gazing around with a smile. “Back when your grandfather was alive, we used this as a kind of hobby room. I would sit at the window and dabble in poetry, and he would sit nearby and do woodworking. There used to be wood shavings all over the floor of this room.” She laughed.

Michelle looked around as if she was envisioning it. “That sounds really lovely, Grandma,” she said softly.

Elaine nodded, feeling a little misty-eyed. “It was.” She inhaled. “But come on—let’s get to looking through this chest.”

She knelt down in front of the chest and lifted the lid almost reverently. A rush of scents greeted her nostrils—old paper, cedarwood, and metal. It smelled like a museum, but her heart gave a tug, knowing that some of the things in this small museum belonged to her own past.

Michelle knelt down beside her and lifted a small wooden duck statue out of the chest. “What’s this? Is this something Grandpa made?”

Elaine nodded, her eyes tracing lovingly over the carving marks on the duck. She loved thinking about her husband’s strong hands turning a simple piece of wood into something so beautiful and carefully made.

“And these! Poetry?” Michelle asked, lifting up a stack of papers that had been loosely tied together with a ribbon. She read the words for a few moments, her expression softening. “These are beautiful.”

“Thank you. Those are mine.”

“Really?” Michelle turned to her with delight. “You write poetry?”

“Well, I dabbled.”

Michelle shook her head. “Grandma, these are really good.”

Elaine smiled, her heart glowing from the praise from her granddaughter. “I’m so happy you think so. Ever since your grandfather died, I haven’t written much. I don’t think I realized until this moment just how much I missed it.”