Chapter 5
From Esther’s diary
Visited Grandma today and spent hours playing board games in her parlor as the weather was awful.
There was so much talk about my marriage prospects.
Everyone has an opinion but no one wants to ask me mine.
The subtext seems to be that without a husband, I am completely worthless.
In this day and age! She did press some money into my hand as we left though, bless her heart, so I’ll forgive her for now, even though it was a Very annoying afternoon.
Leah
Leah was sketching the intricacies of a dragon’s wing onto the back of an envelope when Jackson swept into the kitchen with his usual deep frown and a couple of grocery bags.
Dressed in an ink blue pair of dress pants and a crisp, white shirt, open at the neck, he smelled of fresh air and clean cotton.
She wondered if he owned any casual wear.
He muttered something which could have been “Good morning” but very likely wasn’t.
Smudging at the dragon’s wingtip with her thumb, she watched him rearrange the few items in the fridge to clear space for what he’d bought.
“How long are you thinking of staying?” she asked him, squinting back down at her drawing.
“If you let me know how you want to handle the whole cooking and eating thing while you’re here, I’m happy to share meals.
The freezer’s quite well stocked with pity leftovers from my book club ladies.
They know I don’t usually bother to cook when it’s just me.
It’d be nice to have someone to eat with again. ”
He continued his attack on the fridge without turning around. “I don’t stick to regular mealtimes so I’ll sort myself out.”
Leah was too distracted by the way his shirt pulled tight across muscular shoulders to notice that he’d avoided her first question. She might have fanned herself if she could have done it without attracting his attention.
The doorbell rang.
As Jackson stalked out of the kitchen, his shoes made that specific sound only men’s shoes make on floorboards and tiles.
A cross between a click and a tap that made her swallow in an unbecoming, swoony kind of way.
She growled at herself for being an idiot.
So he was smoking hot and a fan of the Sharknado franchise.
Big deal. It didn’t make up for the fact that he’d never visited Esther, and spoke to Leah as if her existence shredded his last nerve.
She screwed up the envelope and threw it in the trash.
Damn Jackson Hale. Damn his handsome, crotchety face and broad shoulders. And damn those stupid shoes.
The parade of realtors began with No. 1, who appeared fresh out of high school and was already sweating. Just from eavesdropping, Leah knew before he trailed out fifteen minutes later that he wouldn’t be getting the listing.
The second realtor seemed more experienced but she was pushy and overfamiliar. Jackson’s voice grew sharper in response. When Leah heard her offering up her business card with her cell number on it, she doubted this one would make the cut either.
He was beginning to radiate even more tension than usual.
Skirting him on her way to make a drink, Leah hoped the next realtor might be Goldilocks perfect—if only for the sake of his blood pressure and the prospect of avoiding an uncomfortably stressful afternoon.
The doorbell rang again while she was in the kitchen. Wow, he really wasn’t hanging around.
Making her coffee extra slowly to keep out of the way, she caught the brief murmur of voices and then Jackson’s phone ringing.
“Hold on a moment, Natalia.” He loomed in the kitchen doorway and gestured to his cell. “I need to take this. Can you show the last realtor around until I’m finished?”
He’d barely looked her in the eye since that fleeting moment at the funeral, and even the dull weather outside and terrible lighting inside couldn’t dim the luminescent hue of his irises.
They reminded her of a photograph she’d seen of the Blue Lagoon in Iceland taken at night, all magical depths and rich turbulence.
She swallowed, hard. Remember he’s a jackass. Remember he’s a jackass.
“Pretty please, Leah?” She hoped she’d managed to banish the unwelcome yearning from her voice.
“I’m sorry?”
“I was imagining you meant to say ‘please.’”
Those eyes flashed. “Please. I would appreciate it.”
There. That wasn’t so hard. “Sure.”
“Continue,” he demanded into the phone and, turning on his heel, disappeared upstairs.
“Leah!”
It turned out she’d met the third realtor before when Florence had dragged her along to a summer street party for local tradespeople. Pine Springs was like that.
“Sam.” She greeted him with a genuine smile and a hug. Sam Archer—from Archer and Desai Realty Management—was ridiculously easy to get on with. “How’s things?”
“All the better for seeing this gorgeous house today. And may I say it frames you to perfection?”
Leah wrinkled her nose. “I think I was just a little bit sick in my mouth.”
Sam grinned. “I get that a lot.”
They completed a tour of the two upper floors, talking non-stop, and Leah got a kick out of viewing the old house through his experienced eyes. Reaching Jackson’s room, where the door was open, they found him pacing, shoulders hunched, ear to his cell, and quickly left him to it.
By the time they’d covered the first floor and basement, she’d filled Sam in on everything that had happened since Esther’s passing.
The opposite of Jackson in almost every way, he gave off golden retriever energy, with tousled blond hair and relaxed enthusiasm.
Re-entering the house from a swift walk around the grounds, faces rosy and hands chilled, she was pretty sure she’d agree to bail him out of jail if he asked and she had the funds.
“How about a coffee to warm up?” Leah offered, when there was still no sign of Jackson.
“My savior,” he said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “I could murder one.”
In the kitchen, Leah took two mugs from the cupboard.
“This house is something else,” Sam murmured, taking it all in again. “It blows my mind to think how many people have leaned an elbow on that mantelpiece over the years. Or climbed the basement steps. One hundred and fifty years of life inside one set of walls.”
“I often imagine pausing on the stairs in a kickass evening dress and saying, ‘So kind of you all to join me!’ to a host of people gathered in the foyer.” Leah waved a mug as if it were a crystal flute and giggled.
Sam grinned. “Kash will be crushed he missed out. Victorian properties are his passion.”
She pushed the sugar bowl toward him. “Sorry if it’s too weak. I make terrible coffee.”
“If it’s warm and wet, it’ll be perfect.” Sam took a gulp, with an appreciative groan.
Leah blew across the surface of hers. “I don’t have any say in the house sale, but I hope Jackson lists with you. Esther would approve. This was her home for over thirty years and she adored it. Neither of the other two realtors were the right fit.”
“You know what they say.” The lift of Sam’s eyebrow was no less appealing for its confidence. “Third time’s the charm.”