Chapter 6
MITCH
A week. Lori Carlton had been living next door for exactly one week, and somehow Mitch’s entire routine had shifted to accommodate her presence.
He noticed when her lights came on in the morning. Caught himself glancing toward Seabird Cottage when he took his coffee on the porch. Found excuses to be in the front yard when she and Misty returned from their beach walks.
It was ridiculous. He was acting like a teenager with a crush.
The bandsaw whined as Mitch guided a piece of oak through it, the familiar smell of sawdust filling his workshop.
He was building a bookshelf for Piper’s room, something she’d been asking for since her book collection had outgrown the single shelf she had now.
The work required precision and focus, measuring twice and cutting once.
But his mind kept drifting to the woman next door.
The way she moved, graceful and deliberate. The warmth in her eyes when she talked to Piper, treating his granddaughter like an equal rather than a child to be humored.
“Grandpa?”
He turned to find Piper standing in the workshop doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smile on her face.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked.
“Long enough to see you staring at that piece of wood like it personally offended you,” she said, coming into the workshop and hopping up onto his workbench. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, just thinking,” Mitch answered.
“About?” Piper picked up a small piece of wood and examined it.
“About this bookshelf that you want finished before school starts,” Mitch told her.
“It’s looking good,” Piper said, admiring his work. “Do you think Lori is pretty?”
Mitch’s brows rose. “I guess.” He looked at his granddaughter. “Why are you asking me?”
“You know my friend, Claire?” Piper put the block of wood down.
“Yes, I know, Claire,” Mitch answered.
“Well, you know her parents got divorced three years ago,” Piper continued.
“I know,” Mitch said, wondering where this was going.
“Her mom started dating this nice man,” Piper said. “And Claire is really happy for her mother, as her father got married right away after the divorce. Her mother was so sad for a long time after the divorce, but now she’s really happy, and Claire likes him too. He’s a teacher at our school.”
“Is that ethical?” Mitch asked. “A teacher dating a student’s mother?”
“He’s not our teacher,” Piper told him. “He teaches another grade.”
“I don’t think that makes it any better,” Mitch said.
“Grandpa, that’s not the point here,” Piper said impatiently, rolling her eyes.
“The point is, her mother is so happy now. And I want that for you, too.” Before Mitch could answer, she continued.
“You’re always taking care of me, making sure I’m happy and okay.
But what about you? Don’t you want to be happy too? ”
The question hit deeper than Mitch expected. He moved to stand beside her, leaning against the workbench.
“I am happy,” Mitch said. “You make me happy every single day.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Piper said. “I mean, happy like Claire’s mother is happy. You are not getting younger, Grandpa, one day I’ll go off and have my own life. I don’t want you to be alone.”
Mitch felt his throat tighten. “When did you get so wise?”
“I get it from you,” Piper said, bumping her shoulder against his arm. “So? What do you say? I’m thinking that maybe you could ask Lori out on a date.”
“Piper, dating doesn’t happen that way,” Mitch told her. “And we’ve only met once.”
“Then let’s fix that,” Piper exclaimed wide-eyed. “Let’s invite Lori to dinner… tonight.”
“Piper…” Mitch warned. “You can’t just try to push people together.”
“I’m not,” Piper stated. “It’s just dinner and I’ll be here too.”
“I think, instead of thinking about inviting people to dinner, you should go and clean your room,” Mitch told her. “I went to get your laundry and was horrified by the state of it.”
“I’ll clean it if you invite Lori to dinner tonight,” Piper tried to bribe him.
“How about if you don’t clean your room, there will be no dinner!” Mitch tried to be firm.
“Sure,” Piper said, not believing him. “As if you’d starve your granddaughter.”
“Stop being so sassy,” Mitch told her, laughing. “Okay, how about you go clean your room and I’ll think about asking Lori to come to dinner tomorrow night?”
Piper stood staring at him with narrowed eyes for a few seconds. “How about we go ask her to come to dinner tomorrow night right now, and then I’ll go clean my room.” She smiled. “In fact, I’ll even clean the kitchen for a week.”
“A week, huh?” Mitch pursed his lips and sighed. “You drive a hard bargain, Piper Brandon.” He dusted off his hands. “Fine, let’s go ask Lori to dinner tomorrow night.”
“Are we just going to rock up on her doorstep and say, hey, do you want to come for dinner tomorrow night?” Piper asked him.
Mitch shrugged. “Yes, why not?”
“Grandpa!” Piper sighed, sliding off the table and patting his shoulder. “Let’s be a little more subtle, okay?”
“What do you suggest?” Mitch hid a smile
“We have her pie dish from the apple pie she baked for us, and I need to take Misty for her walk,” Piper suggested. “Why don’t we take her pie dish back, and I can offer to take Misty for her walk a little early?”
“Fine,” Mitch said. “Let me at least get out of my work clothes.”
“I’ll go put on my sneakers.” Piper left, and Mitch was about to go get changed when he heard footsteps on the gravel drive. He looked up to see Lori walking toward the workshop, Misty trotting beside her.
His heart did something stupid in his chest.
“Hi,” she called out, raising her hand in greeting. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all,” Mitch said, wiping his hands on his work pants this time. “Is everything okay?”
“I have a favor to ask,” Lori said, stopping a few feet away.
She wore denim shorts and a white t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
She looked worried about something. “There’s a window in the attic that’s stuck.
I’ve been trying to open it, but it won’t budge.
I thought maybe you might have better luck?
I’d really like to get some air flow up there. ”
“Happy to help,” Mitch said immediately. “Let me grab my tools.”
He collected a basic toolkit from his workshop and followed her back to Seabird Cottage, Misty leading the way. Inside, the cottage smelled like coffee and something sweet. Cinnamon, maybe. Lori noticed him noticing.
“I made muffins this morning,” she explained. “Stress baking. It’s a thing I do. Would you like one after we tackle the window?”
“I’d never turn down a homemade muffin,” Mitch said.
She smiled, and something in his chest loosened.
They climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor, then up the even narrower stairs to the attic.
The space was surprisingly large, running the full length of the cottage, with dormer windows on either end.
Boxes and trunks lined the walls, covered in dust sheets.
“It’s quite a collection,” Lori said, gesturing to Martha’s stored belongings. “I’ve been going through some of it. Martha kept everything. Letters, photographs, receipts from fifty years ago. It’s like a time capsule.”
“She was a pack rat,” Mitch agreed. “But a sentimental one. Every item had a story.”
“I like that about her,” Lori said softly. “The way she held onto memories.”
They moved to the far dormer window, which was indeed stuck fast. Mitch examined it carefully, running his hands along the frame. Paint had sealed it shut, probably decades ago.
“This is going to take some work,” he said. “But it’s doable. Do you have a putty knife?”
“I think there’s one in the kitchen,” Lori said. “I’ll be right back.”
While she was gone, Mitch tested the other windows in the attic. Two of them opened with some effort, letting in fresh air that smelled of salt and summer. By the time Lori returned with the putty knife, he’d already loosened the paint on the stuck window.
They worked together, Mitch carefully scoring the paint while Lori held the window steady. It was close work, their shoulders occasionally brushing, their hands moving in tandem.
“So what made you decide to tackle the attic today?” Mitch asked as he worked.
“I woke up early,” Lori said. “Couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured I might as well be productive. Plus, I’ve been curious about what’s up here. Martha’s life is everywhere in this house. I feel like I’m getting to know her through her belongings.”
“She’d like that,” Mitch said. “Martha believed objects carried the energy of their owners. She used to say her house was full of love because she’d filled it with love.”
“I can feel that,” Lori said. “Especially at night. The way the house settles, the sounds it makes. Sometimes I hear footsteps in the hallway. Pacing, like someone walking back and forth.”
“Does that scare you?” Mitch asked, glancing at her.
“No,” Lori said, and she sounded surprised by her own answer. “It’s comforting, actually. Like Martha’s still here, still watching over the place. Over me, maybe.”
“I think she probably is,” Mitch said. “Martha took care of people. It was her nature. I can’t imagine death would change that.”
Lori smiled at him, warm and genuine.
The window finally gave way with a satisfying crack. Mitch pushed it open, and cool ocean air flooded the attic.
“Success,” Lori said, laughing. “Thank you so much. I’ve been dying to get this open.”
“Happy to help. Is there anything else up here you need help with?” Mitch asked, suddenly reluctant to leave.
They spent the next hour working together, opening the other stubborn windows, moving some of the heavier trunks, and sweeping away cobwebs.
The conversation flowed easily, moving from topic to topic without awkward pauses.
Lori told him about her art, about the series of seascapes she was working on.
Mitch told her about Piper’s upcoming birthday party, about his plans to build her a treehouse in the backyard.