Two days after her arrival, as she was boxing up stuff that had belonged to her grandparents, Ellie was questioning her decision of moving in alone. The end of her task seemed nowhere near.
The day before, she’d sat at the kitchen counter with a notepad, a pen, and a cup of strong coffee. The brand new coffee-maker had been Charli’s housewarming gift, since she doubted Ellie would find any kind of modern appliances in Spring Harbor, let alone a decent place to drink some equally decent coffee. She’d jotted down a list of what needed to be tackled first: the porch, the roof, and other bigger things would be her top priority in terms of renovations, but first she had to get rid of whatever she wasn’t going to need. As sad as it made her, that included most of her grandparents’ possessions.
Moving around all her life, Ellie had learned to travel light and never get attached to things, especially if they couldn’t fit inside a suitcase. Her grandmother, on the other hand, had always been rather sentimental. Ellie had understood from the moment she’d removed all the white sheets covering the furniture that the first, and probably most time-consuming, task would be to pack up all of her grandparents’ belongings and decide what to do with them.
When she arrived back in Spring Harbor, she’d noticed what looked like an antiques shop in town. Once she was finished packing everything, she’d go and see if they’d be interested in taking some of her grandparents’ stuff.
She put the last ceramic figurine in a box and closed the lid. The morning had flown and her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. After eating a sandwich, she grabbed an apple and walked out into the garden, the sky clear and blue, with only a few white clouds. She inhaled the fresh salty air and ate the apple while sitting on the old Adirondack that was still in good condition in spite of its age.
While she was chewing on the last bite, her eyes settled on the small, wooden toolshed at the far corner of the garden, and she decided to check it out before she went into town. She retrieved her set of keys from the kitchen and crossed the abandoned-looking garden. She unlatched the lock, and when she pulled open the squeaking door, she let out a surprised gasp. The red bike she used to ride when she was in high school was still there, looking barely used. Her grandfather had bought it for her when she was fourteen. She’d thought that once she stopped coming to Spring Harbor her grandparents had given it away. Instead, here it was, a painful reminder of those happy summer days, as well as a ‘welcome home’ gift, in a way. She didn’t own a car, had never felt the need to in San Francisco, but she’d given it some thought after she got the job at Spring Bunnies. Her house wasn’t that far out of town, but having a vehicle wouldn’t be such a bad idea. With the bike, she could take her time looking for a used car, while she focused on renovating the house and bringing it back to a livable condition.
She pulled the bike out of the shed, found the pump, and proceeded to inflate the wheels. Then she spent the next thirty minutes cleaning and polishing, bringing the bike back to its original shine. Once she was finished, she smiled to herself while she pushed it around to the front porch.
She rode through the woods, enjoying the quiet broken only by the sounds of chirping birds and crickets. The smell of trees mixed with the salt reminded her of the days she used to cycle on these same streets with her grandmother, or with Ethan jogging alongside her, pretending to train for whatever race he’d be signing up for once they got back to school. He’d always loved jogging, while she’d preferred riding, so they’d found a compromise during their stays in Spring Harbor.
The tall cedars and cypresses grew sparser as she approached the end of Beaver Lane. She turned left, taking the long way into town through the marina, and passed by the shops and cafés that catered to tourists, inhaling the smell of fish and of the ocean as she flew by, the wind lapping her face and the sun flushing her cheeks. She rode by the docks, where a few sailboats bobbed in the water. Other sailboats were out on the water, wind blowing into the white sails, pushing the vessels farther out to sea. Ellie had never been on a sailboat, and she suddenly wished she had. She wanted to experience the thrill of letting the wind take you wherever it pleased, of letting the waves lull you, while enjoying the warm rays of sun on your face. As she turned right at the top of the pier, leaving the marina behind as she headed into town, she added another item to the to-do list she’d started when she moved to Spring Harbor.
A few minutes later she reached Cypress Road, one of the main streets in the town center. The founders of Spring Harbor had been creative when naming its streets. Her grandfather had once told her that all the streets in the town center were named after trees, while the residential streets were all named after animals.
She reached the end of the road, facing the town hall with the tall, centuries-old Douglas fir towering in the square in front, and turned right onto Douglas Street, remembering the antiques shop was nearly at the end of the road.
Sandwiched between the small convenience store and the pharmacy, the Tales Of Old Times shop seemed to have popped out of an old movie. Just like most of the other businesses in town, white flower boxes filled with colorful dahlias sat on the sidewalk just in front of the shop window.
Ellie parked her bike in front of the shop and entered, expecting to be hit by the musty smell of old stuff and dust. Instead, a pleasant smell of wood enveloped her, making her feel as if she were stepping into a brand new house that still smelled of freshly carved wood and polish.
Apparently, the shop didn’t just sell antique furniture. There were paintings and knick-knacks, as well as a small selection of souvenirs neatly arranged in a glass display. A sign saying ‘Art Gallery’ hung on the far wall, with a red arrow pointing upstairs.
A woman with gray hair and a friendly smile came out of nowhere, interrupting Ellie’s perusal. “Hello, dear. Can I help at all or would you like to just browse?”
“Hi, um, yes. I was hoping you could help,” Ellie said, walking toward the woman. “I’ve just moved into my grandparents’ house and I’m looking for someone who’d be interested in their furniture. I’ll donate most of their clothes and other things to Goodwill, but there are a few pieces of furniture that are still in good condition and, from what my grandfather used to tell me, they should be rather valuable.” She shrugged. “I’m not really an expert, but I’m pretty sure they qualify as antiques.”
The woman smiled and nodded, introducing herself as Dora Wilkins. She asked a few questions and told Ellie she’d known her grandmother, since they both used to attend the knitting circle before most of the members started having sight or arthritis problems and they were forced to shut it down. She then had a look at the pictures Ellie had taken the day before and told her she’d be happy to go with her son Curtis to see the furniture the following morning. Once they’d taken a better look at the pieces, she’d be able to tell her what they could take.
Then a phone rang and Mrs. Wilkins excused herself, disappearing into a room behind the counter. Ellie wandered around the shop, appreciating some vintage pieces of furniture and scrunching up her nose at old-looking things that weren’t quite to her taste. When movement outside the shop window caught her attention, she rushed to open the door for a man coming toward the shop with what looked like a bedside table in his arms.
“Thanks,” he said as he walked in. His deep, very sexy voice made her body heat up from the inside out. She blinked, momentarily stunned by her reaction to a simple word.
He carried the nightstand up to the counter, and she only got a fleeting view of his profile as he passed her by. His very masculine, very beautiful profile. With dark brown, nearly black hair, and the dark shadow of a beard. Her eyes traveled from his biceps flexing underneath his dark sweatshirt, down to his toned butt in snug denim, as he put the piece of furniture on the floor with a groan.
“I guess I’m getting too old to carry stuff by myself. Thanks for holding the door open for me,” he said, with a polite smile and a nod. “Is Dora in the backroom?”
Ellie stared completely dumbfounded into eyes the color of dark chocolate framed by long, dark lashes. She’d always thought her ideal man had blond hair and blue eyes, but the handsome stranger staring at her had just changed her mind. Tall, dark, and slightly mysterious was by far her new favorite now. She mentally slapped herself as soon as the thought formed. So much for promising she’d never let another man into her life.
She opened her mouth to say something, anything, that would prevent her from coming off as an idiot, but Mrs. Wilkins walking in from the other room interrupted her.
“Oh, hi Adam. You’ve brought the Gardiners’ order, I see.” She was all smiles as she inspected the nightstand, her hand brushing the polished surface delicately, as if she was afraid to damage it.
“The other one’s in the car. I’ll go get it,” he said. Again, just the sound of his voice made something flare up inside Ellie’s body. She needed to get out, and away from this man right now.
“Um, I think I should get going,” she said, hoping Mrs. Wilkins, and the handsome stranger, couldn’t hear the slight tremble in her voice.
“Oh, dear. I’m sorry, we never fixed a time for our visit tomorrow.” Mrs. Wilkins rounded the corner and placed herself between Ellie and the man. She looked at him and smiled. “She’s just moved into the Daughertys’ place and has some old furniture we should be able to sell for her.”
The man gave her another polite smile and stuck out his hand. “I’m Adam. Welcome to Spring.”
“Ellie,” she said, as she took it. A zing like an electric shock coursed through her, from her hand straight up her arm, and across her chest. She flinched and barely contained a yelp, biting her bottom lip to prevent the sound from escaping her lips.
Could this be…
No. It was just a superstition, a story her mother had made up to make a young, rather gullible Ellie believe in fairy tales just a bit longer. Amelia used to tell her daughter that from the moment she shook hands with Terence Hawthorne, she knew that they were meant to be. She’d felt a jolt shoot up from her hand to her heart, and something like a swarm of butterflies had fluttered their wings in her chest, causing her heart to skip a beat. From that moment, Amelia had known he was the one, and their fairy-tale marriage had proven her theory.
Even though she knew it was silly, Ellie had grown up believing what her mother used to tell her about meeting your one true love. She had never questioned the truth of her mother’s words until she was nineteen and met Greg. She’d been sure he was her one, but since she hadn’t experienced any of the symptoms Amelia had, she’d thought her mother must have been mistaken. Once things with Greg went south, Ellie realized she probably should have believed her words and steered clear from him when she didn’t feel the ‘jolt of love’. And most especially when she didn’t feel it with Spencer Boren, the main cause of her unemployment and her departure from San Francisco.
“Don’t you worry about our ability to sell that furniture for you, dear. Don’t think that because Spring is such a small town my business isn’t thriving.” Mrs. Wilkins continued their previous conversation as if they hadn’t been interrupted, and totally oblivious to Ellie’s reaction. “Apart from the tourists, people come from all over Curry County, ever since my youngest son, Taylor, created our website. His brother calls him a geek, but thanks to him we’ve managed to expand our reach outside the borders of Spring.”
Ellie smiled at the woman’s enthusiasm. She’d underestimated small-town life, probably due to Charli’s constant comments about moving to a sleepy town full of technologically-impaired old people and no cell coverage unless you walked to the top of the lighthouse. Talk about being biased.
“Yeah, he’s done an awesome job,” Adam said, making Mrs. Wilkins’ smile grow even broader. “Orders have increased since he put our pieces on the website.”
“Adam and his grandfather make artisanal furniture, and they’ve become quite popular with our clients,” she said, when Ellie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “I used to work here when Adam’s grandfather owned Tales Of Old Times. None of his grandkids wanted to take over the business when he retired, so Eamon sold it to me. Recommending his crafts is the least I can do.”
She pointed at the night table Adam had brought in, and Ellie traced her fingers on the craftily carved rose that served as a handle. “You did this? Wow, it’s beautiful.”
He scratched his scruffy cheek and smiled coyly. If possible, he was even more adorable. Not only was he handsome, he was also an artist. Could she get any luckier?
“It’s all my Gramps’ doing. I’m working on a chest of drawers, but I’m not finished yet. By the way,” he continued, turning his attention to Mrs. Wilkins. “I’m sorry I’m late. It’s taking longer than I’d planned. I should be done by tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, dear. The lady won’t come back to Spring until next weekend.” She smiled at Adam, and Ellie could swear the woman had stars in her eyes. She couldn’t blame her, though. He was a sight for sore eyes, and she was sure he had women’s heads turning, no matter their age.
“Fine, I’d better go get the other nightstand from the car and bring it in, now. I’ve got some other errands to run.” He turned to Ellie and nodded. “Hope you enjoy your stay in Spring. See you around.”
“Sure,” she said, any other words deserting her as their eyes locked for a brief moment. For a woman who’d sworn off men, it hadn’t taken her long to break the promise she’d made to herself after Spencer humiliated her.
Mrs. Wilkins handed her a small folder, and Ellie forced herself to stare away from Adam. She mentally chided herself and focused on what Mrs. Wilkins was saying.
“Have a look at these pictures. There are a few of Adam and Eamon’s pieces. See if there’s anything you like, and when we meet tomorrow, you can let me know if you’d like to order anything for your house.”
Ellie nodded and took the folder, then left the shop before Adam returned. She needed time to process what had happened, and to decide whether she believed her mother’s superstition or if it had just been a coincidence.
She got on her bike and put the folder into the basket. As she pedaled back toward her cottage, with visions of Adam swirling in her mind, she thought maybe she should get herself a cat. Or a dog. Or maybe even just a hamster. She didn’t really need a man’s company to be happy, did she?