She waited a moment before opening the door, realising for the first time just what lay ahead of her. Before she was due to return to London in a couple of weeks there was a lot of work to be done! But she’d get things moving straight away, she thought decisively. First of all she’d hire someone to help her clean the place right through, and then she’d go shopping for curtains and floor coverings. The cottage was absolutely devoid of anything, except some ancient lino in the kitchen, so at least she had a clean sheet and could start from scratch. Of course she couldn’t do everything at once, but she’d make a jolly good start, and then focus her mind on the kind of furniture she wanted. It would be simple, but comfortable.
She smiled to herself. She was supposed to be here on holiday, to rest and recharge her batteries after the heavy but very successful year which her team had had—and here she was, giving herself another set of problems with decisions to be made. Holiday? What holiday!
She unlocked the front door and stepped into a small hallway which led almost at once into the sitting room—which had windows at either end, making it light and airy. She stood quite still for a moment. In a strange way she almost expected her mother to appear, for this had been Frances’s home for more than twenty years—all the time she’d been employed at Poplars—and in spite of the total nakedness of the place, the atmosphere felt warm and welcoming to Melody. She felt oddly connected here. It felt like home, and that was what she would make it. Even if Adam Wotsisname didn’t approve, she’d come here time and time again—make it a home from home!
She bit her lip thoughtfully. She hadn’t seen Adam since that first evening—for which she was thankful. She didn’t want any hindrances, any bothersome ties here, and something about him suggested that he could be somewhat over-helpful if she gave him the slightest encouragement. Then she felt guilty—what had he done except buy her lunch and take her for a moonlit walk? In his way, he was sort of charming—and annoyingly handsome, it had to be admitted—but his attitude had rankled from the start. He patently considered her an outsider, and had no problem declaring the fact.
There was only one other room downstairs. It was small, but would be useful as a study if she needed one—or it could even be used as an occasional third bedroom. She didn’t doubt that she’d have plenty of takers among her colleagues for the chance of a short holiday here now and then!
With her feet echoing on the wooden floors, she went up the narrow stairway and into the back bedroom where, apparently, she’d first seen the light of day. From its window she not only had a full view of her garden, but in the near distance over the tops of the trees she could just see the roof of Poplars. She stood quite still for a moment, a frown crossing her features. Why was it that her mother had never wanted to come back to the area—even for a short visit? Melody had been told so much about the way of life in the village—the wonderful walks and peaceful atmosphere which Frances had loved—yet her mother had always made some excuse or other not to return. No—it had been beyond excuses. It had been a firm decision that that part of her life was over. For ever.
Melody shrugged, kneeling forward on the shabby cushioned window seat as she continued to gaze at the scene below. Suddenly there was a light tap on her front door, and Adam’s voice calling from below halted her in her reverie. She tutted to herself—he hadn’t wasted any time, she thought. She’d only taken possession of the cottage half an hour ago!
She heard him run swiftly up the stairs, his strong footsteps echoing through the place, and he came straight in to stand next to her. She turned to look up at him, trying to look pleased at his unexpected entrance. He was wearing jeans and a fine grey T-shirt, and his dark hair shone with healthy vigour…though he did tend to wear it rather long. Not that it didn’t suit his persona, she admitted—it was just that the men she usually mixed with all seemed to favour neat and formal hairstyles.
He was holding a huge bouquet of roses and lilies, and he thrust them forward. ‘Morning, Mel,’ he said easily, smiling down at her. ‘Just a small welcome gift for your first day.’
Melody was genuinely touched. ‘Oh…how lovely! And how unexpected!’ She took the bouquet from him, examining it appreciatively. ‘You must have known that these are my all-time favourites! But—thank you…you shouldn’t have!’
‘Oh, I think I should,’ he said, going over to the window, his hands in his pockets. ‘Buying houses isn’t an everyday occurrence, is it? At least, not for most people,’ he added. ‘I’ve brought a vase down from Poplars, by the way.’
‘Yes…I’ve just been thinking about all the stuff I’m going to have to buy,’ Melody said. ‘I hadn’t got around to the question of vases yet! But I shall certainly need some, because flowers always light up a house, don’t they?’
He glanced down at her, thinking how exquisite she looked in a fresh, simple green cotton sundress which showed off the lightly tanned, smooth skin of her neck and shoulders to perfection. Her long pale hair was pulled back casually and held with a tortoiseshell clip. He’d noticed at their first meeting that she wore very little make-up, but what she did use certainly suited her, because from her appearance she might have stepped from the pages of a glossy magazine. This place didn’t need flowers to light it up, he thought. She did that all by herself!
He pulled his thoughts up sharply. He didn’t want to admire this woman to the point where he started to feel anything for her, he told himself. If it hadn’t been for her, the cottage’s ownership would have been in very different hands, and it still peeved him beyond words that he hadn’t gone the extra mile. But how could he have known that he was so close? He’d only seen her, the other bidder, from the back during the auction, but there’d been something about the way she’d sat there that morning—the angle of her head, the slim, determined hand that had kept raising her card—depicting a businesswoman who was used to getting what she wanted.
He turned away briefly. What was done was done—for the moment. He knew it was a long shot, but he did have a little time to perhaps change things, to make her see just what she had taken on and maybe convince her that this wasn’t what she really wanted. That it could become more of a burden than a bonus if it turned out that she simply did not have enough time away from her London life and job to justify the financial outlay and upkeep. He also felt instinctively that a town was where she fitted in—where everything you needed was on tap at all hours of the day. In this village tomorrow was always deemed soon enough for most people!
Allowing her to go first, they went downstairs, and Melody turned on the kitchen tap and filled the large glass jug which Adam had brought with him. Pausing for a moment, she said lightly, ‘I really don’t know where to start. I mean…this kitchen could do with some work, though it seems to have been refitted at some point in the past.’ She looked around her doubtfully, then opened the fridge door and peered inside. ‘This is clean enough—and I suppose I won’t need anything any bigger.’ She stood back. ‘But there’s no washing machine, and I’ll certainly need one of those…’
‘The last owner died,’ Adam said matter-of-factly. ‘That’s why the place came on the market. And I think the washing machine was in a bad way, so it was chucked.’
‘I wonder if there’s room for a dishwasher—’ Melody began, and he interrupted.
‘Oh, I don’t think this kitchen has ever sported one of those. I’m afraid you’ll have to do everything by hand, Mel!’
Melody said nothing as they wandered into the sitting room, where the sun was streaming in through the windows, lighting up all the dusty corners.
‘What are those two boxes on the floor doing there?’ Melody said, frowning.
‘Oh, I brought them with me—for us to sit down on,’ Adam said, promptly kicking one to one side and taking up position. ‘It’s quite comfy, actually—who needs expensive chairs? Now, then—’ he rubbed his hands together briskly ‘—I’ve come to help!’
Melody looked at him, a