Agnes didn’t like the direction this conversation was going.
He thrust the envelope at her.
She took it, noticed her name scrawled on the front, then looked at him. “What’s this?”
“The letter says it so much better. Eliza typed it. She’s the one who’s good with words.” He heaved a sigh, then scraped his sausage fingers through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “Eliza and me...well, we’ve decided to move to Arizona.”
“Arizona? You’ve lived in Shelby Lake your entire life.”
“Our daughter Jocelyn is pregnant.” Clarence beamed like a proud grandpa-to-be. “After she lost the first two, she and Aaron wanted to wait until she was out of the danger zone to announce this pregnancy.”
She forced her lips into a smile, hoping to project joy she didn’t feel. “Well, that’s fantastic. When’s the baby due?”
“November—around Thanksgiving.”
“Truly something to be thankful for.”
“Eliza and I don’t want our grandchild to grow up without seeing us but a few times a year, so we’ve decided to move to Arizona before the baby’s born. The air is better for Eliza’s arthritis, too. You know how these damp seasons make her ache so.”
“But...”
Of course she understood they wanted to be with their family, but what about her apartment?
As if reading her thoughts, Clarence laid a beefy hand on her shoulder. “We sold the building. Yesterday. That’s what I wanted you to hear from me.”
His news pushed her stomach into a free fall to her toes. “I didn’t even know it was for sale. How long do I have to look for a new place?”
“Thirty days.”
Air whooshed out of her lungs as if someone had stepped on her ribs. She slumped against the counter, crushing the envelope in her fist.
Thirty days?
Where was she going to find an affordable place in such a short time?
He mentioned selling her apartment building, but what about their cottage?
“Are you planning to rent out your cottage?”
He shook his head. “Nope. We’re listing it with Seaver Realty on Monday.”
She loved the lakefront peach-colored cottage with its white trim and wide front porch. Flower beds skirted the perimeter of the house, and a large backyard meant for barbecues and kickball games overlooked the lake. A white picket fence hemmed it all in.
The kind of place she always dreamed about, complete with rocking chairs on the front porch so she could grow old with someone who found her worth loving.
An image of Ian with silver hair flashed through her mind.
Refusing to give up on owning a place to call home, Agnes continued to put away money. Someday the right house would be available. For now, she’d keep saving her pennies. Unless...
No, that was crazy thinking.
She could barely make her rent each month, thanks to paying off her ex’s gambling debts. The cottage was going to be way out of her price range.
But Ian’s request to help with Agape House came to mind.
If she could push to sell her restored furniture, then maybe, just maybe, she could manage a down payment and get a loan for the mortgage.
Heart hammering against her ribs, she turned to her landlord and blurted, “Clarence, would you and Eliza consider selling the cottage to me?”
He scrubbed a hand over his whiskers. “Now, there’s an idea. You’ve been a great tenant. Let me talk it over with her this afternoon. I’ll give you a call this evening.”
“Sure, that’s fine. I won’t be home for a bit anyway.”
After Clarence left, Agnes checked on the ladies, then hurried to the kitchen. Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, she stared at the screen saver of her and Ian as teenagers, grinning as they hoisted the Golden Paddle Award in the air.
Good times.
They made a great team. In more ways than one.
Could she do this? Could her heart handle the risk?
No going back if she said yes.
If she wanted to put the past behind her to face a new future, she had to take the first step. And if she wanted to buy the cottage, she needed the extra income to help with the down payment.
Her thumb hovered over the two on her speed dial. She pressed it and held her breath until Ian’s deep voice answered. She released her breath. “Hey, it’s me. I’ll do it.”
No going back now.
Now she needed to find the courage to put the past to rest.
Chapter Two
When she walked out that door over five years ago, Agnes never thought she’d cross the threshold again.
But here she was.
The chipped gray paint and sagging black shutters of the house on the corner lot held nothing but echoes of angry voices and empty promises.
A sold placard nested on top of the sun-bleached for sale sign swinging in the wind, the rusting chain creaking with each movement.
If she focused on the physical attributes of the house, then maybe she could ignore memories that threatened to resurface simply by walking through the door.
“I can’t believe you talked me into coming here today. I haven’t even changed from work.” Agnes marched up the sidewalk behind Ian, her legs fighting not to turn and run with each step closer to the door.
“No time like the present.” Glancing over his shoulder, he flashed a smile that always made her insides twirl.
Dressed in faded jeans with a threadbare hole in the thigh, a gray T-shirt advertising James & Son Insurance and leather deck shoes that had seen better days, Ian inserted the key and unlocked the door, but didn’t push it open. Keeping one hand clenched on the doorknob, he dragged his fingers through his hair, tousling his sandy-brown curls in need of a cut.
His forget-me-not-blue eyes pleaded with her. “Listen, Red, if you’re not ready, then Mom and I will find someone else to help.”
She tightened her hand around her purse strap, praying this morning’s breakfast of tea and toast didn’t cause a revolt.
Why did it have to be this house?
A gentle breeze stirred the curls of her ponytail, brushing them against her jaw. She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warming rays of sunshine.
“Ready?”
She looked at him, pulling energy from the compassion warming his eyes. “Let’s get this over with.”
Ian opened the door and stepped back, ushering her to step inside.
Agnes stepped on the black welcome mat covering the stoop and tried not to scoff at the irony. She hadn’t felt welcome here in a long time. Steeling her spine, she strode inside and sucked in a breath.
A musty smell tinged with the faint odor of stale cigarette smoke tangled with the fresh air coming in through the front door. Pushing her white sunglasses on top of her head, she waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. “How long has this place been empty?”
“I think Alec said a year or so. Cliff Miller died last spring, and the family’s been trying to sell it since then.”
Flat beige walls pocked with nail holes added an air of