Chapter 12 February 21, 2025
-Sadie-
The crunch of gravel under the rental car’s tires was the only sound as Sadie approached Corbyn’s estate.
For just over two weeks, this drive had filled her with a sense of dread as she prepared herself for the inevitable clash of wills.
Today, that familiar knot of tension had loosened, replaced by something that caused a fluttering in her chest whenever she remembered their conversation on the ridge.
The book needs you.
He’d almost slipped—she was sure of it. For a split second before he’d corrected himself, she’d heard the beginning of “I” form on his lips. I need you. The thought sent an unexpected warmth spreading through her, one she had been trying very hard not to think about.
And then there had been his unexpected appearance not only on the ridge, but also at The Roaring Stag.
Corbyn Pearce, who by all accounts barely left his property, had come looking for her.
He had driven into the village and walked into a public establishment, risking stares and whispers, because he’d wanted to what?
Apologize? Make amends? The importance of that gesture wasn’t lost on her, especially after what Maggie had told her.
***
“There you are,” Maggie called, wiping her hands on a dish towel tucked into the strings of her apron. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d run off for good after whatever had Corbyn Pearce darkening my door this afternoon. He came in here looking for you, all worked up.”
Sadie shrugged off her coat, draping it over the back of a bar stool. “Worked up how?”
Maggie grinned, pouring a glass of red wine without a word and sliding it across the bar.
“He was waiting for me when I got back from shopping,” she told Sadie, a little smirk tugging at her lips. “He was frantic to find out where you had gone.”
Sadie wrapped her fingers around the glass stem, taking a moment to gather her thoughts, before answering, “We had a rather… tense moment earlier. He wanted to apologize. Or rather, offer the closest thing to an apology I’m going to get from him.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Maggie murmured, leaning her elbows on the bar.
“He hasn’t crossed through that door since before the accident.
You know, when I took over this place about twelve years ago, he’d come in most evenings when he was working on his first novel.
Always sat at the same corner table by the window. Polite, but kept to himself.”
“Keeping to himself sounds familiar,” Sadie said wryly.
“Oh, but he was different then,” Maggie insisted.
“He was quiet, but he was… approachable. He’d listen to the locals’ stories for hours, jotting notes in that little book of his.
Never invasive, just… curious. Observant.
Used to help Mr. Davies bring in firewood when his arthritis was playing up.
Walked Mrs. Whitfield’s terrier when she broke her hip.
” A soft smile played on Maggie’s lips, and she continued, “Not the sort of things that makes headlines, mind you, but they tell you something about a person’s character. ”
Sadie tried to reconcile this image with the man he was now. Perhaps somewhere beneath all his prickly edges was the one Maggie remembered.
“It’s hard to imagine, but I think I saw a bit of that today,” she confided after a moment.
“And?” Maggie asked, her gaze shrewd.
Sadie ran her finger along the glass’s edge, stalling a little while she gathered her thoughts.
“I think that under all that anger is someone who’s been through hell, and is guarding their heart.”
“People are complicated,” Maggie counseled, patting Sadie’s arm. “Fear makes cowards of the best of us sometimes.”
Sadie took another sip of wine, digesting Maggie’s words of wisdom.
“He was different today,” she said. “By the ridge. There was a moment when…” She trailed off, uncertain how to describe the shift she’d felt between them.
“Go on,” Maggie prompted gently.
“He told me my perspective helps,” Sadie said, still slightly amazed. “After weeks of fighting me on every suggestion. And there was this… I don’t know, sincerity? Like for just a second, he let the guard down.”
“Is that so?”
Sadie met Maggie’s knowing gaze, feeling her cheeks heat.
“We’re working together. That’s all.”
“Mmm,” Maggie hummed noncommittally as she refilled Sadie’s glass.
“You know, we all comment on him being this recluse, living in his big house on the hill. But I can still see him sitting right there,” she nodded toward the window seat, “helping old Mrs. Hutchinson with her crossword every Sunday afternoon. Patient as a saint, even when she’d ask him the same clue three times over. ”
“I’d pay good money to see that,” Sadie said, and she couldn’t help but smile at the image.
“He’s still in there, you know,” Maggie responded softly. “That man who took the time. The scars didn’t change who he is at his core; they just buried him a bit deeper.”
Sadie swirled the wine in her glass, watching the ruby liquid catch the light.
“I think I saw him today,” she admitted quietly. “Just for a moment.”
“And?” Maggie pressed again, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“And…” Sadie hesitated, searching for words. “I’d like to see more of him.” As soon as the words left her mouth, her cheeks heated again. “Professionally speaking,” she added hastily. “It would make the editing process easier.”
Maggie grinned, not fooled for a second.
“You know,” she said, leaning her elbows on the bar, “some people put up walls just to see who’s stubborn enough to scramble over.”
Sadie laughed quickly, shaking her head as she said, “Sounds like a line from those paperbacks you’ve got stashed back there.”
Maggie chuckled, low and warm.
“Doesn’t mean it’s wrong, love.”
***
Dropping her bag on the sofa, Sadie made her way to the kitchen, drawn by the comforting aroma of fresh bread. She found Edie at the island, flour dusting her forearms up to her elbows, a smudge of it across one cheek as she kneaded dough.
“Morning,” Edie called, looking up with a warm smile. “You’re earlier than usual. Eager to clash wits with our resident grump?”
Sadie grinned, heading straight for the cabinet where she knew Edie kept the mugs, grabbing one before replying, “Up with the birds. It’s hard not to be when the inn’s roosters think dawn is a competitive sport.”
Edie laughed, the sound rich and full.
“Ah, Maggie’s roosters. They’ve been the bane of this village for years. Even Paul tried to bribe her to relocate them once.”
“Let me guess, she told him exactly where he could stick that suggestion?”
“You’re learning our ways.” Edie nodded approvingly as she gave the dough a final fold and covered it with a clean cloth. “Sourdough today. Paul’s favorite, though if you asked him, he’d grumble that anything edible is his favorite. Man would eat bark if I buttered it properly.”
Sadie laughed, pouring water over her tea bag.
Paul was still a bit of a mystery to her, but she’d been picking up little tidbits of information from Edie.
She got the distinct impression that they were a case of opposites attract.
Where Edie loved to talk and gossip, Paul was quiet and chose his words carefully.
“Heard you and Corbyn had a chat yesterday,” Edie continued after a moment. “Sorted some things out, did you?”
“We managed the conversation without bloodshed,” Sadie replied with a wry smile. “Progress, I’d say.”
“More than progress from what I can tell,” Edie’s eyes twinkled. “He came in and worked for hours. Even accepted a cup of tea and a slice of my lemon drizzle cake without acting as if I were poisoning him. Whatever you said on that ridge, it worked.”
Sadie felt her cheeks warm, and she insisted, “I just reminded him we’re supposed to be partners, not adversaries.”
“Hmm.” Edie’s expression suggested she saw more than she let on as she bustled around the kitchen, putting away the ingredients.
After a comfortable moment of silence, she added, almost casually, “You know, he’s never been an easy man.
Brilliant, yes. Kind, when he remembers the world doesn’t revolve around whatever stories are in his head. But no, never easy.”
“I’ve noticed,” Sadie said dryly, making Edie chuckle. “How long have you and Paul worked for the Pearce family?”
She had gotten the feeling after watching Corbyn and Edie interact that it had been many years. There was an easy familiarity between them that made Edie feel more like family than an employee.
“Oh, I’d say it’s been about thirty years now,” Edie replied. “Corbyn’s parents hired Paul, but when their housekeeper quit unexpectedly it seemed only natural that I step into the role, as the children were already comfortable with me. They were left in my care more often than not.”
The pieces started to fall into place for Sadie.
She had learned early on that while Edie had a niece and nephew who lived nearby, she and Paul had never had children of their own.
Stepping into the role of caretaker and ultimately surrogate parents seemed to have been a natural progression.
It also explained why Corbyn never seemed to take issue when Edie stood up to his grumbling.
“The accident changed him,” Edie continued, her voice softening. “Not just the scars or the pain. It was like…” She paused, searching for words. “Like he lost faith in everything at once, his body, his talent, other people.”
“That must have been awful,” Sadie murmured, a heavy feeling settling in her chest.
“Hardest on his sister, Ellie, I think,” Edie said. “Being a doctor and all, she took it personally when she couldn’t fix him. Tried everything under the sun for his hand and his pain.” She shook her head. “It was a lot for him to take in.”
Sadie nodded, sensing there was more to the story but not wanting to pry. There was no way something of that magnitude could happen without affecting every member of Corbyn’s family, and even though Edie had lived it, it wasn’t entirely her story to tell.
“But lately with you here, he’s different,” Edie continued, looking at Sadie in a way that made her want to shift in her seat.
“I’m just doing my job,” Sadie said quickly, taking a sip of her tea to give herself somewhere else to look other than Edie’s knowing gaze.
“Maybe so,” Edie conceded with a knowing smile, “but you’re doing it differently than the others who’ve tried.” She checked the clock on the wall. “Speaking of which, he’ll be pacing his study by now.”
Sadie drained her tea and stood, trying to shake off the storm of thoughts swirling around in her mind.
Finishing the book was her reason for being here, and to blur the lines of personal and professional could easily spell disaster.
Eventually, the book would be finished, and she would have to return to New York.
That meant no matter what anyone else saw, she had to be careful to maintain boundaries for all their sakes.
“Thanks for this,” she said, gesturing to the empty cup.
“You’re welcome, love,” Edie replied, patting Sadie’s shoulder as she passed. She turned back to her bread dough, lifting the cloth to check its rise, then added almost casually, “And Sadie?”
“Hmm?”
“Whatever you said to him yesterday…” Edie glanced up, her eyes warm with genuine gratitude. “Thank you.”
Sadie felt her cheeks flush as she nodded and slipped out of the kitchen, retrieving her bag from the sofa.
Today would be about reestablishing professional boundaries, about ensuring nothing drew their attention away from the book.
She couldn’t let a brief glimpse of who Corbyn was behind his carefully constructed walls derail that.
Riley appeared at the end of the hallway, his lanky form wiggling as he walked toward her with evident delight. He circled her once, his tail sweeping in wide arcs, then pressed his head against her side in a gesture of greeting.
“Morning, handsome,” Sadie murmured, pausing to scratch behind his ears. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing in bliss.
Riley huffed softly and then trotted ahead toward the study, looking back once to ensure she followed.
All of it, the dog, the warm kitchen conversation, the way she was beginning to navigate the house with growing familiarity, meant that keeping that balance of professionalism would be that much more difficult.
She was already getting attached, and that would only mean heartache when this assignment was over.
At the study door, she paused and took a deep breath. She wasn’t entirely sure what awaited her on the other side. Despite her muddled thoughts, for the first time since arriving in Great Missenden, she was truly curious to see where the day would lead.