Page 60 of Island Girl

“It's beautiful,” Richard said. “I saw it yesterday. The bones are solid, the location is perfect. But more than that, I could feel what it meant. Places hold memories. That one holds sixty years of them.”

“They do. They hold everything.” Gregory's eyes drifted to the window. “I haven't been back since I moved in here. Can't manage the stairs anymore. Can't manage much of anything.” He paused. “But I think about it every day. Wonder if the hibiscus is still blooming. Wonder if the wind chime still sings.”

“It does,” Merritt said softly. “I heard it yesterday.”

Gregory smiled. “Good. My wife made that wind chime.Collected the driftwood herself, strung it up on the deck. Said the sound reminded her of her grandmother's house in Maine.”

“Maine?” Richard leaned forward. “We're from Maine. Kennebunk.”

“Is that so?” Gregory's eyes brightened. “My wife's grandmother lived in Camden. Little cottage near the harbor. That's where she got the idea for the wind chime.”

“Small world.”

“Smaller than you'd think.” Gregory studied Richard for a long moment. “You're a nature writer, you're from Maine, you lost your wife, and you want to buy my bungalow. It's like the universe is trying to tell me something.”

“What's it telling you?”

“That I've been waiting for the right person. And maybe you're it.”

Richard was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was careful. “I want to be honest with you, Gregory. I'm not just buying this for investment purposes. I'm buying it for my daughter. She needs a home, a place that's hers. And eventually, when I sell my house in Maine, I might come down here myself. Start a new chapter.”

“A new chapter.” Gregory nodded slowly. “I like that. At my age, I don't have many chapters left. But you do. And so does she.” He looked at Merritt. “That bungalow deserves someone who'll open those French doors every morning and appreciate the view. Someone who'll sit on the deck at sunset and feel the world slow down.”

“She will,” Richard said. “I promise you that.”

“I believe you.” Gregory straightened in his wheelchair, his expression shifting to something more businesslike. “Now. Let's talk logistics.”

Paula, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, leaned forward. “Gregory's nephew has power of attorney. He handles all the legal affairs from Ohio.”

“Doesn't visit,” Gregory added with a dry smile. “Sends a card at Christmas. But he's good with paperwork. I called him last night, told him what we're planning. He's ready to move forward.”

“What's the timeline looking like?” Richard asked.

“These things take time. Title search, inspections, all the legal nonsense.” Gregory waved a hand dismissively. “A month, maybe six weeks. My nephew will coordinate with your lawyer, get everything sorted.”

“That's reasonable.”

“In the meantime,” Paula said, “Gregory has agreed to let Merritt move in as a tenant. First month's rent, utilities covered. That way she's not stuck in that apartment above the bar while the closing goes through.”

Richard nodded. “That makes sense. I'll cover the rent.”

“Already figured you would.” Gregory smiled. “Your daughter offered to pay, but I told her that's what fathers are for.”

“She's independent,” Richard said. “Gets that from her mother.”

“Independent is good. Stubborn is better.” Gregory's eyes found Merritt. “You remind me of my wife, you know. She was stubborn too. Knew what she wanted and didn't apologize for it.”

Merritt felt her cheeks warm. “I'm still learning that part.”

“You'll get there. Takes time.” Gregory reached out and patted her hand. “But you've got time. That's the gift of being young. You don't know it yet, but time is the most precious thing you have.”

They talked for another hour, working through details. Richard asked questions about the property, the roof, the foundation, the hurricane shutters. Gregory answered what he could and admitted what he didn't know. Paula filled in gaps, offering to connect Richard with a local inspector who could do a thorough assessment before the closing.

By eleven-thirty, Gregory was starting to tire. His voice grewsofter, his eyes less sharp. Paula noticed and stood up, signaling that the meeting was wrapping up.

“I think we've covered everything for today,” she said. “Gregory needs his rest.”

“Of course.” Richard stood and extended his hand to Gregory one more time. “Thank you. For the bungalow, for looking out for Merritt, for everything. I won't let you down.”