Chapter Three
Rory
A raspy hum from the generator drifted through the halls, merging with the faint howling of a winter wind. I stirred beneath layers of thick blankets, vaguely recalling that I wasn’t in any snug hotel but in Barrington Manor—now my property, and soon to be the Evergreen Inn. The bed, though a relic from Cyrus Barrington’s era, had proven surprisingly comfortable, and the plush covers kept me far warmer than I’d feared.
Still half-asleep, I ran my fingertips over the velvet comforter. Every texture in this place felt aged, full of history, as if Cyrus’s presence lingered in the worn fabrics and timeless carvings. The room’s corners remained lost in shadows, but a narrow band of morning light peeked through the tall windows, slowly banishing the gloom. I inhaled the hint of leftover woodsmoke in the air, as though the house itself exhaled memories.
Shoving aside the blankets with some reluctance, I pushed myself upright. My breath formed a faint puff in the chilly air, though the bed’s heavy quilt had indeed kept me cozy all night.
Slipping into thick socks and an oversized sweater, I padded across the worn rug to open the drapes. Snowy pines beyond the window glittered with early sunlight, promising another day of subzero temperatures. Yet I couldn’t help smiling. Yesterday, I’d uncovered a trove of old furniture in the second-floor rooms—dressers, bedframes, even an ornate trunk—and discovered that not all of it was junk. Some might still shine with the right polish and care.
Thinking about it spurred me forward. Even though the tasks ahead were daunting—electrical overhauls, roof repairs, structural fixes—I found a hint of excitement in each new discovery. This battered Victorian house was more than I’d bargained for, but it was also my chance at a new beginning. Julian and Miami were behind me. Evergreen Inn was my future.
I made my way down the wide, creaking staircase, and flicked on a lamp in the kitchen. It was a tall, airy space with a battered oak table set in the center. More mismatched chairs surrounded it, presumably also from Cyrus’s collection. On the table, my small coffee maker sat next to a plastic bin of supplies I’d hauled from Florida: a few mugs, sugar packets, random utensils. Grateful for enough electricity to power the coffee maker, I filled it with ground beans and water and hit the button, leaning against the counter as I waited. Soon, the aroma of the fresh brew lifted my spirits, and I drank it slowly, letting the warmth sink in.
As I sipped, I remembered how different my life had been only weeks ago—late closings, endless phone calls, and humid Miami evenings overshadowed by first shock followed by heartbreak at discovering Julian’s infidelity and plan to buy me out of our partnership and go into business for himself. Now, everything felt quieter, both outside and within me. I could sense the mansion breathing around me, every board groaning with memories. But instead of stifling me, it offered a strange solace.
Finishing my coffee, I decided to take advantage of the early start. Cass had mentioned dropping by around noon, so I had time to explore more of the second-floor wing. Thick blankets aside, there was plenty left to see: supposedly, a few more bedrooms had stayed furnished, and I wanted to note which pieces to keep and which to discard.
Armed with my phone’s flashlight and a notepad, I climbed back upstairs. The corridor I entered now was wide but dimly lit. Particles swirled in the light from a half-shaded window at the far end. The air smelled faintly musty, like old linen chests in an antique store. Two doors stood on the left, one on the right. I picked the first on the left—a knob shaped like a lion’s head.
Pushing the door open, I found a rather large room with tall windows draped in threadbare brocade curtains. A massive four-poster bed anchored the space, intricate spindles rising toward the ceiling. The bedding—quilts and comforters piled high—was reminiscent of the warm layers I’d slept under. A matching dresser with carved legs sat along one wall, a silver-backed mirror perched on top.
I ran my fingertips over the dresser’s smooth surface, brushing aside dust. The craftsmanship impressed me—deep floral carvings and swirl motifs. With a thorough cleaning and maybe a new coat of varnish, it’d look spectacular in a future guest suite. One drawer stuck, forcing me to tug it open. Inside, I saw a stack of old postcards featuring scenic views of Wintervale’s surrounding mountains. The handwriting on the back was faint, referencing holidays or short notes from travelers. Cyrus might have collected them. Or perhaps earlier Barrington relatives, long gone.
Standing there, I could almost imagine a guest stepping into this room after a day of skiing, marveling at the antique bed and plush blankets. Yes, I thought, scribbling a quick note in my notepad, Keep bed a bath’ll be easy.”
Carefully, I eased him into the water, using mild soap to wash away lingering dirt. He squirmed once or twice but soon relaxed, eyes half-closing as if relishing the unexpected warmth. Matting and bits of debris swirled away, revealing a plush black coat beneath. “Not so bad, huh?” I murmured, rinsing him off. He sneezed when a droplet hit his nose, making me giggle. “All right, all done.”
Wrapping him in a clean towel I’d brought from a linen closet, I carried him back downstairs. By then, my phone buzzed with a text from Cass: “ On my way back with dog stuff. You get the pizza ?” Smiling, I quickly dialed the local pizza place Bailey had raved about, placing an order for a large pepperoni with double cheese, Caesar salad, and breadsticks. With that, I sat Bramble by the warmest radiator, where he curled up contentedly.
It didn’t take long for Cass to reappear, arms loaded with a dog bed, a bag of kibble, a few cans of wet food, a new collar, a leash, and even a small squeaky toy shaped like a bone. My eyebrows rose. “That’s… a lot,” I said, half-amused, half-grateful.
He shrugged, depositing everything on the kitchen floor. “Figured I’d go overboard. Didn’t know exactly what he’d need or would like.”
Bramble’s ears perked at the rustling bags, and he wiggled out of my grasp to investigate. Cass knelt, opening the kibble bag, letting the pup sniff. Then he set up the bed near the radiator, patting it as a welcoming gesture. Bramble hopped right in, tail wagging. A warm, fuzzy sensation threaded through my chest at the sight.
“He looks happy,” I said, glancing at Cass. “Thanks again.”
“No problem.” He peeled off his coat, hanging it on a hook by the door. “How’s his bath go?”
I laughed. “He tolerated it. I think he’s just exhausted now.” As if to confirm, Bramble settled into the bed, snout buried in the plush fabric.
We both hovered a moment, watching the newly comfortable dog drift off into a light doze. “Pizza should be here any minute,” I said.
With Bramble snoozing, Cass and I took the chance to circle back to renovation talk. He asked about the oak armoire I’d found upstairs, and I told him how its hidden side compartment. We debated which pieces I might donate and which to keep. The conversation flowed easily, and I realized that I felt happier than I had since I could remember.
A knock at the door signaled the arrival of our pizza. I hurried to pay while Cass dished kibble into a bowl for Bramble. The creature blinked awake, sniffing the air. Cass coaxed him to sample the new food, and after a brief hesitation, Bramble devoured it with gusto.
We settled at the table, opening the box to release a mouthwatering swirl of cheese and sauce. Cass let out a content sigh, biting into a slice. “Man, I forgot how much I love pizza after running errands all day.”
“Me too,” I said, nibbling on a slice of pepperoni, grateful for the simple comfort. “I guess I owe you big for taking care of Bramble’s shopping spree.”
He waved it off. “No big deal. You’re the one giving him a home. Says a lot about you for doing that.”
We ate, occasionally tossing a piece of crust to the pup—though he quickly returned to his bowl of dog food. The hush between us felt warm, tinted with the day’s events. Every now and then, our eyes met, and I sensed that same undercurrent humming in the silence. Something about building a new life in a derelict mansion—and now, caring for a stray—bonded us more than I’d expected.
After dinner, we cleaned up, tossing the empty pizza box in a corner to discard later. Bramble finished lapping up water, let out a squeaky yawn, and flopped onto his new bed with a satisfied thump. I smiled down at him. “Well, that’s one occupant sorted.”
Cass grabbed his phone, checking the time. “It’s getting late.” He raked a hand through his hair, leaning against the table. “So tomorrow, we start hauling out anything you won’t keep? Old, broken dressers, weird wardrobes?”
I nodded eagerly. “Yes. Then maybe peel that wallpaper in the hall. I can’t look at the peeling floral pattern another day.”
He grinned. “Deal. And we can also do a quick salvage yard run if we have time for tile samples. Gotta keep momentum.”
Bramble let out a snuffling snore, and we both stifled soft laughs. “He’s out like a light,” Cass observed, voice hushed.
I glanced at the clock on the wall, surprised to see that it was after ten. “Yeah, guess we should call it a night.”
He stepped closer, his expression shifting from playful to something more intense. My breath caught as we stood in the low glow of the old kitchen lamp, the air between us pulsing with a hint of unspoken desire. His gaze flicked to my mouth, and I felt my chest tighten, a swirl of adrenaline and curiosity flaring.
Slowly, Cass leaned in, his hand hovering near my arm as if waiting for my permission. A tantalizing wave of warmth teased my skin, the faintest brush of his breath near my cheek. For a heartbeat, I wanted to let it happen—to close the gap, claim a sliver of unexpected closeness in this huge house. But fear and caution rose, reminding me how raw I still was from Julian’s betrayal.
I turned my face aside, heart hammering. “I…Sorry,” I whispered, swallowing hard. “I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”
His gaze remained warm, though disappointment flickered briefly. “That’s okay,” he murmured, stepping back. “No pressure.”
I forced a small, shaky smile. “Tomorrow,” I managed, echoing the promise of the day ahead.
“Right.” He cleared his throat. “See you in the morning.”
I walked him to the door, flipping the lock behind him once he vanished into the snowy darkness. A hush fell, and for a moment, I let myself wonder if I’d made a mistake, if maybe I should’ve allowed that brief, sweet chance. Then Bramble stirred, trotting up to rub against my ankles, reminding me that I wasn’t entirely alone.
Scooping him up, I cradled him in my arms, letting his soft fur ground me in the present. “We’ll figure out the rest soon enough,” I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his fuzzy head. He let out a content sigh, nuzzling closer.
With Bramble’s warmth nestled against me, I climbed the old staircase, heart still racing from the almost-kiss that never quite happened. Yet anticipation glowed in my chest, a quiet thrill at the idea of tomorrow’s tasks—and whatever might unfold between me and Cass Whitlock.