Chapter 5
E leanor walked over to the front window for the fourth—maybe fifth—time in the last ten minutes, scanning the street for any sign of Jonah.
Not that he was late. She’d just been dressed and waiting for him for over an hour.
She’d changed outfits twice, unsure of herself.
Which annoyed her no end because she was never uncertain about anything.
At least she hadn’t been until Jonah’s return.
She turned from the window and headed to the kitchen.
Warmth radiated from the oven where Mrs. Paterson’s masterpiece of the day waited—chicken infused with fresh rosemary, tender green beans, and homemade rolls.
A peach pie sat on the counter, its lattice crust a perfect golden hue.
The sweet scent of peaches and cinnamon filled the room.
The kitchen felt different without her cook’s bustling movements.
The house stood quiet now that she’d dismissed Mrs. Paterson for the evening.
The privacy would allow her and Jonah to speak freely, without the sound of staff in nearby rooms or the gentle clink of dishes being washed.
Although Mrs. Paterson, her cook of twenty years, had perfected the art of invisibility as she did her work, Eleanor preferred she and Jonah had the house to themselves tonight.
While she trusted Mrs. Paterson’s discretion—she’d never hired anyone who didn’t understand the value of silence—she felt tonight’s conversation required privacy, the kind only an empty house could provide.
Now, if she could only manage to plate up their meals with as much finesse as Mrs. Paterson…
Reassured that everything was ready for their dinner, she headed back to the front room.
Winston’s tail thumped against the floor as she crossed over to the window yet again.
She peeked outside and spotted Jonah walking up the sidewalk to her front door.
As she hurried to the door, the mirror in the entryway caught her eye.
The silver-haired woman staring back at her seemed a stranger.
So different from the young girl who had been so eager to meet up with Jonah in their youth.
At the door, she smoothed her dress and waited for him to knock.
And waited some more. Seconds stretched to minutes.
She frowned and finally opened the door.
Jonah stood there, his hands in his pockets and a sheepish look on his face.
The corners of his mouth lifted in that familiar half-smile she remembered so well.
“I was just thinking how strange this was. That I could just walk up to your front door and knock. Your father never would have allowed that.”
“No, he wouldn’t.” She nodded. “But then, he’s long been resting in his grave.”
Jonah still stood outside on the porch.
“Well, come in, come in.” No use letting the whole town see him standing out there on her porch.
She closed the door behind him, her heart beating faster than it had any right to at her age. The familiar scent of his aftershave brought back memories she’d kept packed away for decades. The same crisp, clean scent.
He stood close to her, yet not too close.
A small smile crept across his features.
“You know, the house looks almost exactly like I remember it. Well, the front of it. It wasn’t like I was allowed inside all those years ago.
But sometimes, late at night, I’d sneak over and look at your house, wondering which room was yours, if it was one with the light on. ”
“My room was on the back of the house, overlooking the gardens. It still is. I moved back into it after Theodore passed away. I much prefer it to the master suite.” She wasn’t sure why she told him all that.
“Anyway, some things don’t need changing.
Just fresh paint on the front of the house and keeping up with the garden is all that’s needed.
” Though plenty had changed, whether they wanted to acknowledge it or not.
Winston padded over to investigate their guest, his tail wagging in a slow, dignified manner. Jonah bent down to scratch behind the dog’s ears.
“Shall we have a drink before dinner?” She gestured toward the front room. “And Mrs. Paterson left everything ready in the kitchen when we’re ready to eat.”
“I drink sounds nice.” He followed her into the front room, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floors.
“Wine? Scotch?” She paused. “Or we might have some beer in the fridge.” She did keep some beer for the few times her son, Cliff, stopped by.
“Red wine is fine.”
She poured them each a glass and turned to see that Jonah had settled into one of the wingback chairs.
Theodore’s old chair, she realized with a start.
She walked over and extended the wine, ensuring their fingers wouldn’t brush during the exchange.
She took her seat in her favorite chair, across from him.
Silence stretched between them, broken only by Winston’s soft snuffling as he made himself comfortable on his bed in the corner. She took a sip of her wine, letting the liquid steel her nerves.
“You know, I thought about calling to cancel,” he said quietly. “I know you want to take things slowly and you’re a bit unsure of things.”
“You were going to cancel?” Her hand tightened on her glass. “But what made you decide to come?”
“Because I’ve spent too many years not showing up at your door.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She knew she’d hurt him when she chose Theodore. When she hadn’t been brave enough to choose him. And it had been clear that her father would never approve of Jonah, not for his daughter.
“But that’s in the past, Ellie. All of it. We have now and we have the future. To make of it what we want.” He smiled at her. “But now, let’s talk about something else, not rehash the past.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Relief washed through her. The past was full of painful memories. Just normal, everyday conversation sounded like a lovely idea.
He took a sip of his wine. “Nice. Good round flavor with a hint of spice and maybe a bit of blackberry.”
“So you know your wines?” She tilted her head, surprised.
“A bit. I actually worked in a vineyard over in France for a couple of years.”
“There’s so much about you that I don’t know.”
“I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”
“I don’t even know where to start.” She paused, then continued. “You’re getting closer to your nephew now?”
“Now that I even know that I have one?” He grinned. “It’s a bit of an adjustment knowing I have family again. I… I like it. And yes, we’re getting close. Though, Brent spends most of his time with Darlene’s granddaughter, Felicity. I think he cares greatly for her.”
She traced the rim of her wineglass with her finger. “Young love is so different, isn’t it? They’re willing to rush headlong into everything. Like Brent and Felicity, with their whole lives ahead of them.”
“Were we so different at that age?” Jonah’s eyes held a warmth she remembered from decades ago.
“No, I suppose not.” She paused, considering. “Though we didn’t get what we wanted back then. And now…” She lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “Now there are so many layers to everything. So many years of habits and routines.”
“And walls we’ve built around ourselves,” he added. He shifted in Theodore’s old chair, and she forced herself not to think about how strange it felt seeing him there.
“Exactly. I’ve lived alone for so many years now. I have my routines. My quiet mornings with Winston. My garden. My committees.” She took another sip of wine. “And you’ve had your travels, your freedom.”
“Freedom can get lonely.” His voice was soft, thoughtful. “Watching Brent with Felicity reminds me of that. Young love doesn’t question itself, it just moves forward, full steam ahead.”
She nodded. “While we sit here analyzing every little thing.” She let out a small laugh. “Though perhaps that’s wisdom rather than hesitation.”
“Or perhaps it’s fear dressed up as wisdom.” His gaze met hers. “We’re not exactly young anymore, Ellie. We don’t have the luxury of endless time ahead of us.”
“No, we don’t.” She smoothed her skirt, then settled her hand when she realized what she was doing. “But we do have experience. We know how easily things can go wrong, how complicated relationships can become.”
“True. But we also know what matters. The problems that seemed so important in youth don’t mean much anymore, do they?”
Winston got up from his bed and padded over to Eleanor’s chair, resting his head on her knee. She scratched behind his ears, grateful for the familiar comfort of his presence.
“No, they don’t,” she agreed. “But starting over at our age… It’s different from young love. There’s no blank slate. We bring our whole lives with us—our children, our memories, our losses.”
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” he said. “Those experiences made us who we are. I’d like to think they made us better equipped for love, not worse.”
“Maybe.” She rose, hoping to break up the serious discussion. “I’ll go take up our dinner.”
“Can I help?”
“Could you refill our wine glasses? Then just head across the hall to the dining room. I’ll be there in a minute with our food.”
She turned and hurried off to the kitchen while Jonah headed to the bar cart, their serious conversation firmly set aside. For now.
Jonah carried the wine bottle into the elegant dining room and carefully refilled their glasses.
The crystal stemware caught the light from the chandelier overhead, creating delicate patterns on the polished mahogany table.
Ornately carved chairs sat around the table, each with richly upholstered seats.
His gaze traveled over the formal place settings, the silver candlesticks, and the ornate china cabinet displaying what he guessed were family heirlooms. The wallpaper featured a subtle damask pattern that complemented the heavy drapes framing bay windows that overlooked the garden.
“This is quite a dining room,” he said, setting the wine bottle on a silver coaster as Ellie entered the room and set their plates on the table.
“It’s the same table that’s been in our family for generations.” She sat down gracefully and smoothed her napkin across her lap. “Mother always said every proper home needed one.”
He thought of his own modest cottage on Wisteria Street with its small eating nook and basic furnishings. He’d spent his career as a craftsman, working with his hands, either fixing things at the ports he’d worked at or his woodworking hobby. But his own place had always been simple, functional.
And he’d never actually met Ellie’s mother. The Whitmores were old money, with generations of influence in the community. He’d known that even as a young man, but sitting here now, the differences in their backgrounds felt more pronounced.
“Your house is beautiful, Ellie.” He slipped into the seat across from her.
“It’s just a house,” she said, but her eyes softened as she gazed around the room. “Though I suppose I’ve grown rather attached to it.”
The evening light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow across the antique sideboard where family photos in silver frames captured moments of Ellie’s life with Theodore. Their wedding day, holidays, vacations—a whole history displayed with careful precision.
He sat up straight in his chair, feeling the weight of the years between them. He’d built a good life for himself, but it was worlds away from Ellie’s refined existence. She’d been surrounded by family while he’d been alone.
The question that had nagged at him since reconnecting with her surfaced again—could two people from such different worlds find common ground after all this time?