Chapter 5
-Sadie-
Sadie leaned against the wall at the end of the hallway. Corbyn’s demand that she leave the study had reverberated through Pearce House. Her body melted against the wall as the adrenaline from the confrontation drained away.
Her fingers still felt the ghost of that brief contact with Corbyn’s hand while taking the manuscript. A strange feeling had run through her, something she hadn’t felt in years.
Between that spark and the fright from the moment he slammed his hand on the desk, she felt her heart racing.
It had been an automatic response carved into her by years with Nate and his temper tantrums, but Corbyn had immediately stepped back, and something that looked like regret had flickered across his face.
Unlike Nate, who would press closer and use her vulnerability as a weapon, Corbyn had given her space.
It was a small thing, but it was unexpected. And in that moment, something fragile and hopeful fluttered beneath her frustration. That hope hadn’t lasted, though.
The back of her head hit the wall, a dull thud that matched her deflating spirits. Perhaps she had really gotten in over her head with this assignment.
“Come on, Reed,” she coached herself, trying to summon an ounce of the determination that had propelled her across an ocean. “You’ve dealt with worse.”
But her pep talk did nothing to steady her as another wave of exhaustion crashed over her. The five-hour jump from New York felt like a leap across worlds, leaving her body confused and her mind foggy. No amount of sleep would cure the fatigue weighing her down.
Nate had often told her she could be a nagging know-it-all when it came to editing.
Corbyn seemed like the sort who would bristle the moment she tried to offer any kind of criticism, and she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a monumental mistake in coming to Great Missenden.
But then she looked down at the stack of papers in her hand.
The confrontation hadn’t been a complete failure; he’d given her everything he had completed thus far, which was a step in the right direction.
The smell of rich, savory food hit her, followed by the sound of clanking pots.
She followed the scent through the living room toward the back of the house, and her weary eyes landed on the figure standing at the stove in the kitchen.
The woman wiped her hands on her apron as she turned at the sound of Sadie’s footsteps.
Her silver-streaked hair was gathered in a loose bun, and her warm brown eyes peeked at Sadie through wire-rimmed glasses, framed by the kind of laugh lines that only come from decades of smiling at other people’s chaos.
“Rough go with him already, love?” The woman’s voice carried a no-nonsense lilt that made Sadie wonder how she put up with Corbyn’s mood swings.
“You could say that,” she replied, offering her a tired smile. “But I did manage to secure this before he tossed me out of his office.”
Sadie held up the manuscript pages like a prize and received a knowing look in return. She had a feeling she wouldn’t have to pretend with this woman that things hadn’t been tense with the manor’s resident grump.
“Oh, you poor thing,” the woman clucked, her motherly concern washing over Sadie like a balm. “Come on, let’s get some tea before you melt into the floorboards. I’m Edie, by the way.”
“Sadie,” she said in return.
Her bag slid to the floor with a soft thump as she sank onto one of the stools lined up along the kitchen island.
Edie bustled over, sliding a steaming mug of tea and a warm scone across the counter, the scent of bergamot wrapped around her.
“Thanks,” Sadie rasped, gripping the mug tight. The heat seeped into her hands, a jolt against the cold sting of Corbyn’s brush-off.
“Eat up, love,” Edie said, nodding at the scone. “Clotted cream’s better than moping over his nonsense.”
“For a moment I thought things were starting to go well,” she mumbled, taking a tentative bite. Her cheeks warmed, and she closed her eyes, savoring the flavor. The scones Maggie had served that morning had been good, but Edie had a gift.
“He’s prickly, that one.” Edie leaned against the counter, a wry smile playing at her lips as she regarded Sadie with sympathy and amusement.
The click of nails on hardwood announced a new arrival, and the estate’s Irish Wolfhound padded into the kitchen. He trotted over to Sadie, soulful eyes glinting as he nosed her hand with a soft whine. She couldn’t help but smile at the gentle giant, sure he would be her favorite manor resident.
“Well, hello there,” Sadie murmured, scratching behind his ears. The wiry fur was warm under her fingers, and the dog leaned into her touch with obvious pleasure. “At least someone’s glad I’m here.”
“That’s Riley,” Edie explained. “Corbyn’s bark might be worse than his bite, but Riley here’s all love, and no teeth.”
Sadie’s smile grew as she replied, “I think Riley and I are going to get along just fine. Any chance he’s looking for an editor?”
Edie laughed, turning to stir the stew that was simmering on the stove. The aroma evoked a sense of comfort that washed over her body.
“When he plants himself,” Edie said over her shoulder, her voice dropping like she was letting Sadie in on a hard-won trick, “you’ve got to hold your line and stare him down ’til he shifts.
He’ll test you, push you to see if you’ll bend.
But once he sees you’re not running, he starts to listen. Don’t let him scare you off.”
Sadie blinked, unconvinced as she replied, “I have a feeling I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t toss me out on my ear by sundown.”
“Nonsense,” Edie tutted, turning to face her. Those warm brown eyes crinkled with a knowing glint that made Sadie squirm. “You’ve got more fire in you than you let on, I’d wager. You managed to get him to hand over those pages.”
Sadie’s lips twitched, a tired half-smirk. “Guess I’ll give it a try,” she rasped, tea warming her hands. “Not much left to lose.”
Edie’s mouth curved, approval flickering in her eyes. “That’s the way, love.”
A slow tread echoed from the hall, and Riley practically pranced in place with anticipation, earning a soft chuckle from Sadie. Corbyn appeared a moment later, hair mussed from raking hands through it. He didn’t glance Sadie’s way, just jerked his chin at the dog.
“Walk, boy.”
“Mind the puddles this time, eh?” Edie called from the kitchen. “Last go nearly did me in with the scrubbing.”
“No promises,” Corbyn grunted. It was a rough huff that might’ve been amusement. His blue eyes met Edie’s for a beat, softening just enough to hint at affection before he tugged the door open and stepped out, Riley trailing into the mist.
Edie watched them go, then turned to Sadie, wiping her hands on her apron. “Make yourself at home. Kettle’s on if you need more.”
Sadie nodded, clutching the tea and the pages Corbyn had left in her care.
She made her way into the living room and sank onto the comfortable sofa, fighting back a sigh.
She placed the mug on a nearby table, giving Echoes of Ash her full attention—scrawled lines, crossed-out chunks, and a tangle of ink.
She rubbed her eyes and flipped the first page.
“Alright, Pearce,” she muttered, her voice firm despite the jet lag dragging at her. “Let’s see what I’m dealing with.”