Millie spied the real-estate agent through the rosette window of the attic. She loathed the balding relic that now lumbered up the sidewalk since the day he brought developers to tear down her home. Reason told her she should welcome that fool. He could be bringing potential company into her life. She turned away from the window where she sat perched day in and day out. It made her ache with sadness to see the proud farmhouse that she spent her youth in sit empty, no furniture or voices filling it up. But her feelings were not enough to make her welcome the agent.
Twin metallic clunks from outside broke through the stillness of the morning and sent a fluttering sensation running through Millie’s midsection. She paced the dusty pine planks; the prospect of new life carried her nearer the door on each pass. She didn’t need to look. It would be better if she kept her distance up here in the attic. Unexplained cold spots and footsteps that had no apparent source tended to scare people away.
When the jingle of keys and muffled voices echoed up the stairs, her curiosity won out. Surely, she could get a glimpse of them from the stairs. There was no need to go down.
The front door closed with a thud that reverberated through Millie.
The droning voice of the real-estate agent assaulted her ears. “It’s a fixer upper but the neighborhood is quiet and it’s in one of the better school systems.”
Millie rushed to the landing and leaned over the carved wooden banister. “Don’t you mess this up,” she shouted down at the agent, whose heavy footsteps she heard lurking in the front room. “Tell these people what a lovely home this was. I’m sick to the teeth of being alone.”
Millie blew out a long breath, a habit that was no longer necessary. Why did she bother, the real-estate agent couldn’t hear her. She rubbed her hands along the polished rail. It couldn’t hurt to go down and take a peek at who the inept fool brought this time. Millie shifted back and forth on the balls of her feet, unable to hold still. No, they’ll come to her. She just needed patience—a commodity she had precious little of, unlike time.
“The more we see, the better I like this house.” A man’s clear baritone echoed off the bare walls of the kitchen in tandem with the banging of cabinet doors. Millie supposed the man behind it was going through opening and closing them as he considered his purchase.
The potential buyer walked into the entryway, leading a woman by the hand towards the stairs where Millie sat. To the diminutive Millie, he seemed tall and dark. When he glanced up the stairs, sharp blue eyes met her own. Even from this distance, Millie felt captive to the vitality that filled them. Though she knew better, she felt as if there was something in that look just for her, some message she wasn’t grasping.
He looked away, back at the woman he came with. The absence of his gaze broke whatever unlikely cord of communion had been strung between him and Millie. He couldn’t have seen her, no one ever did. Millie’s cheeks tingled, remarkably like blushing, if that had been possible. She raised a hand to her cold cheek. He certainly was the best-looking man that the portly agent had ever brought through her home and closer to Millie’s age than most of them.
“Noah, I really don’t want something that needs this much work,” said the man’s companion. “I just wanted to walk in after the wedding to our picture perfect starter home.” The woman’s blonde ponytail swayed as she shook her head.
The woman wore a modern, soft pink sweater that came down to mid-thigh of her form-fitting denim. Millie looked down at her own shapeless ivory dress. It hung past her white stocking-clad knees. Perhaps Millie could have had a better husband if she had been as attractive.
Noah started up the stairs, hand in hand with his future wife. They must have money, Millie assumed, because he appeared as richly dressed as the pretty blonde, with her collared shirt and pullover sweater. Her working-class husband and father would have called him a well-to-do lawyer’s son, or maybe a banker. Definitely not the kind of man Millie was used to being around.
Mindful not to touch the couple as they passed her, Millie scooted out of the way. She made no effort to conceal herself further. The woman looked past Millie into the bathroom, appearing completely unaware of her presence. Noah looked right at Millie. She gasped and then ducked behind an open bedroom door, kneeling down. Her heart racing, she peered through the gap below the hinge. When Noah continued into the first bedroom without comment, Millie sighed in relief and moved back into the hall.
He must have been looking though her. It was silly on her part to continue deluding herself that he could actually see her. Just an over-active imagination brought on by decades of loneliness, she chided herself. Only children ever noticed her and usually only the very young. She took extra care not to frighten the little darlings.
“What do you think of this one for the master, Claire?” Noah asked.
“The closet is so small and the carpet has to go. It’ll kill my allergies and my asthma will flare up,” she whined in reply. Her cheeks sucked in and her mouth pursed in a pretty pout.
“I can fix that,” Noah promised. He began to count off the benefits on strong hands that appeared rough and used to work, much to Millie’s surprise. “Just think of the possibilities. This house is under budget and we were only looking for three bedrooms; this house has four. The room adjoining this one could be turned into a master bath and walk in closet.”
His plan sounded lovely to Millie. Someone to care for her home and remake it into a special place again, like it had been before her life had fallen apart.
“I don’t want to live in a construction zone.” Claire crossed her arms in front of her chest and took a step back. “I want move-in ready.”
Millie’s jaw dropped and she drifted up beside Claire. “Be reasonable, not every man offers to do something so monumental, you silly woman. Don’t you see how lucky you are?” Millie asked, waving her hands in agitation.
“You’ll have that.” Noah reached out, resting his hand on Claire’s arm. “We have three month’s until the wedding. All I need is eight weeks.”
“I’m listening.” Claire looked away, as if only humoring him.
He moved in close, his voice lowered to a whisper. “I’ll move in and start working. You stay in your place and focus on the wedding. You’ll move in when we get back from Hawaii.”
Mille held her breath, her hands tented together and covering her mouth as she drifted backwards into the hall. Was it too much to hope that this seemingly ungrateful woman would accept such a generous offer from her betrothed?
Claire sighed and her arms dropped to her sides. “Well, I’ll get to pick my own finishes. I couldn’t do that in a house that’s already done, there’s that at least.”
Millie clapped in excitement and spun happily. Finally, some company.
Noah grinned and grabbed for Claire’s hand. “I knew you’d see. Let’s talk to Bob and put in our offer.”
Millie beamed with hope from her spot in the hallway. Noah pulled Claire behind him, striding with purpose to the stairs. Millie stepped back out of the way until her waist pressed against the handrail. Noah returned Millie’s smile with genuine warmth and a slight nod, silently offering a hello. He didn’t pause as he continued down the stairs, leaving Millie disoriented. Her own smile slipped away. Did he see her after all?