Chapter 24
New York City, New York, U.S.A.
2019
Colin’s cell phone rang at six in the morning. He struggled to open his eyes and look at the clock by his bed. He groaned, reached for the phone and mumbled, “Colin Heard.”
“I’m so sorry to wake you.” The feminine voice sounded genuinely regretful.
“Pardon me—who is this?” He sat upright. “Is there a problem?”
“Colin, it’s Letice. I hate to be a bother, but Amanda and I have a question. I lost all track of the time difference between Neville and …”
“America?” He finished for her.
“Yes, I wasn’t certain what city you were in, so I couldn’t calculate the exact time difference.”
“No harm done.” He rose, strode to the window, and opened the drapes. “What do you need?”
“We have the plans complete for the playground and wondered when you’d be back. We want to start on it right away and wanted to know if we could e-mail them to you for approval. Would that be possible?” She stopped long enough to take a breath. “When are you coming back?”
“I’m not certain—but, yes, e-mail the plans. I’ll go over them today and be in touch. Although, I’m sure you two did a wonderful job.”
“Thank you. Sounds splendid.” She paused. “Do you have much business to take care of in America?”
Colin’s lips curved slightly. “Not much—some lose ends to tie—I’ll be home soon. Take care and let me know if you need anything else. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye, Colin.”
Colin knew what she was about. Ever since he’d revealed Susannah’s death and meeting Ryan, Letice had acted strangely. She’d wanted any information she could find out about the mysterious circumstances behind Susannah’s departure from Neville, which was nothing to speak of, at least that’s what he’d told her. He wasn’t sure she could handle the news of the arrest.
First, he had to do what he’d come to New York to do—discover the full truth. How had she died?
∞∞∞
Tristan slowly opened the door of Books-on-the-Green careful not to disturb the tiny bell. He succeeded, and repeated the process in reverse, crept behind Polly, who knelt putting books away.
He whispered at her ear. “Hello, Polly.”
Polly screeched and jumped at the same time, turning, fists at the ready.
Tristan backed up so fast that he stumbled over a box and fell flat on his back.
“Tristan. What in the Dickens are you trying to do to me? You almost got a busted nose—are you daft?”
He moaned. “Oh … my back. I think I hurt something.”
Polly dropped to her knees and mothered over him. “Oh, no. Can I do something to help? It serves you right—sneaking up on me like that.” She sat back on her heels.
“Hey. How about some compassion here? I could be seriously injured.”
“I’m sorry. Let me help you.” She put an arm around him, carefully helping him to sit.
The door opened, and April entered, her eyes widening at the sight of Tristan in Polly’s embrace. “Well, well, while the cat’s away …”
Polly scowled and released him. “He’s hurt, you dolt.” Tristan winked at April over Polly’s shoulder.
“Oh, Polly, you don’t know when you’ve been had.” Tristan shot her an irritated look as she walked to the counter and busied herself with tidying it, turning her back on the pair.
“April, what’s wrong with you?” Polly’s voice held genuine concern.
“Polly, please. Tristan’s fine. He’s having a bit of fun with you.”
She turned to Tristan, who had returned to his prostrate position, and stared at him with a probing glare.
Finally, he couldn’t keep up the farce any longer. He broke into a wide grin. “Sorry, Polly. April’s right. I didn’t mean any harm. I was trying to be funny.”
Polly leaned back on her haunches and slugged Tristan in the shoulder. He yelped and grabbed his arm. “Hey, that hurt.”
“Good.” Polly rose and stood over him with a wide stance and reddening face. “You twit, you should be ashamed.”
Tristan burst out laughing. “You look quite comical, all red-faced and standing like a Roman warrior.”
Polly stomped off toward the kitchen. Tristan heard the kettle crash into the sink, water running, and the kettle slammed onto the burner.
April laughed. “Sounds like we’re having tea.”
He sat up. “Should I stay, or am I in danger?”
She gave him an apologetic expression. “Go browse some books, and I’ll test the waters for you.”
∞∞∞
April found Polly at the table waiting for the kettle to boil, her expression unreadable.
“Polly, Tristan was only having a laugh. Give over. He teases those he likes.” April reached for three cups and put them on the table in front of Polly with a clink.
Polly eyed the cups and looked at April curiously. Her chin propped on fisted hands. “Did you invite him to stay for tea?”
“Not yet. I thought I would.” April sat in the chair opposite Polly. “What’s going on with you? I thought you liked him. You certainly thought I should date him.”
After studying her empty cup a moment, Polly’s eyes misted. “You honestly don’t have a clue, do you?”
“What? My middle name is clueless.” She hoped to elicit a smile from her friend, but Polly’s face remained taut. April could tell that she was struggling with something but couldn’t bring herself to admit it. “Polly, we’ve been friends since primary school and have always been able to communicate well, that is, until the past few months. And I’ve no idea why you’ve been so angry—” April crossed her arms. “—out with it, Polly. What’s going on?”
“Oh, all right.” Polly peered over April’s shoulder, and she gasped.
April turned to see Tristan hovering in the doorway.
He cleared his throat. “Sorry, ladies, but I’d like to buy this book—unless you want me to nick it rather than break up your conversation.”
Polly rose and retrieved the now whistling kettle. Talking over her shoulder, she told Tristan, “Take the book. Pay later. Just leave.”
“Polly, don’t be rude. Tristan’s a friend and a patron of this shop.” April turned to Tristan. “Tristan, I’m sorry—I don’t think Polly is feeling well right now. I’ll walk you out.” She led Tristan from the room.
Tristan called out behind them. “Bye, Polly. Nice to see you too.”
“Oh, Tristan. Don’t antagonize her. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, but I mean to find out before the day ends.”
“All right.” He reached for the door and paused. “Start me a tab.” He held the book out.
“Heavy reading, indeed,” April teased, noting the book was a collection of superhero comics.
“I need a break from uni. Studying is about to do me in.”
She smiled meaningfully, nodded as they said goodbye, and he left the shop, the book tucked under his arm.
After scribbling the book title on a notepad, April returned to the kitchen to find Polly sipping tea, and her own cup was filled. April sat and took a sip, her eyes on Polly, who was meticulously folding and re-folding a napkin.
“You’re not leaving this room until you tell me what’s going on. If I have to bodily pin you to that chair, you will spill it—post-haste.”
Polly looked at April, her eyes brimming with tears. “I’m in love with Tristan. All right? I have been for years.”
April nearly dropped her teacup. “Did you just say what I think you said?”
“Please don’t toy with me.”
“I’m not.” April swallowed. “I just find it hard to believe. You’ve been trying—for months—to get me to go out with Tristan. Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
Her eyes held sorrow. “Because I thought he was in love with you.”
“He only thought he was because he misread our friendshi
p since we were in nappies.”
Polly appeared thoughtful. “He did seem to get over your rejection pretty quick, didn’t he?”
April laughed. “If I wore my feelings on my sleeve, I’d be hurt by how fast he’s moved on.”
Polly’s posture relaxed, and she nibbled on a biscuit. “I suppose you’re right.”
“Tell him how you feel, Polly. I think you two would get on well.”
Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh, no—I couldn’t do that. If he had any feelings for me, he wouldn’t have pursued you.”
April shrugged. “You can’t be sure until you tell him. But, first, you need to lighten up with him.”
Polly pursed her lips. “How so?”
“Tristan loves a laugh. He can get a bit carried away but play along. Give him tit-for-tat. He’ll love it.”
Polly twisted and folded the napkin again. “I’ll give a try.”
“That’s the Polly I know and love.” April held up the biscuit tray. “Now, how about we polish these off and get back to work.”
Grinning, Polly grabbed a few and shoved several into her mouth, the light in her eyes warming April, sparking her new determination to bring Polly and Tristan together.
∞∞∞
April bent over the open oven door to check on her herb-roasted chicken and vegetables when the knock at the door startled her. She closed the oven and strode to the door. Her parents huddled under the tiny overhang. She ushered them inside. “Oh my, you’ll be soaked.”
“Not to worry, love. Your little roof kept us dry.” Mrs. Conyers gave April a peck on the cheek and a robust hug. She glanced around the room. “I’d forgotten how charming this place is.”
Mr. Conyers repositioned the package at his hip, which suspiciously resembled groceries. “Hallo, duckie,” he said, kissing her cheek, “Something smells lovely.”
“That it does, C.C.” Her mother smiled in approval. “Need any help?”
“No, thanks, Mum. Everything is under control. Dinner should be ready in twenty. Please have a seat, and I’ll get you something to drink.”
C.C. Conyers followed his daughter to the kitchen and placed the package on the table with a thud. “Here you go.” His whisper was conspiratorial. “Your mum insisted. She’s worried you’re not eating well. She believes you may be scrimping on things to save a pence.”
“Oh, Da. That’s ridiculous.” She shook her head and unpacked the groceries. “Her heart is in the right place, but I’m fine.” April handed him a stemware glass of water. She carried two more glasses into the lounge area.
“Here you go, Mum.” She handed off the drink and eased herself into the overstuffed chair. “And thanks for the groceries. That was very thoughtful, but you didn’t have to do it.”
“I know, dear, but you look like you’ve lost weight, and I won’t have you going hungry.”
April watched her father roll his eyes as he expelled a humph before seating himself on the sofa next to his wife. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Love, our girl can take care of herself. You’ve taught her well.” Mrs. Conyers kissed his cheek.
April watched her parents, admiring their genuine affection for each other. They seemed so suited. She longed for that kind of relationship with a spouse. In God’s timing.
The oven timer rang out, drawing April from her thoughts. “You two stay put while I get everything on the table.” She winked at them. “It’s time for me to wait on you for a change.”
April prepared the table with an ivory and pink checked tablecloth. Each place setting held bisque plates with gold edging and crystal stemware. A large platter supported the roasted chicken surrounded by glazed carrots and rosemary potatoes. Another serving dish held green beans glistening with a touch of olive oil and sprinkled with chopped herbs. Fresh yeast bread rounded out the meal. It was perfect.
She called her parents to eat. Once seated at the table, she asked her father to say Grace.
Bowing their heads, Mr. Conyers began, “Lord, we thank you today for the provisions you have blessed us with. We thank you for such a wonderful daughter and for providing her with this splendid home, this meal, my lovely wife, and the wonderful life you’ve given us. Amen.”
April and her mother echoed, “Amen.”
Mr. and Mrs. Conyers savored their first bite and complimented April to the point of embarrassment. Conversation floated from one subject to another, finally moving to the purchase of Permelia Cottage.
Reaching for another serving of vegetables, Mrs. Conyers remarked on the cottage’s furnishings. “I must say the previous owner had a wonderful sense of style.” She added, “… and you’ve certainly put your touch on the place as well. With equal good taste.”
“That would be the mother of the young man I met at the shop. Wouldn’t it, April?” Her father took another bite.
“Yes, Ryan Wilkinson. You met him at the shop when you brought over my smashing sign.”
Mrs. Conyers watched her daughter. “Ah, yes, your father mentioned a rather fine young man he met that day.”
Mr. Conyers eyes widened in horror. “My dear, I said no such thing. Men do not use the term fine when speaking of other men.”
“Sorry, dear. You did say he was a rather nice-looking chap though and wondered if April had taken a fancy to him.”
“Da. Did you say that?” April exclaimed, equally horrified.
He pushed a green bean around his plate with his fork. “Well, I did think I sensed some type of interest there.” He abandoned his bean and glanced at her. “From both of you. Sorry if I was mistaken.”
“Yes, you were. I merely purchased the cottage from Ryan, and that’s that.” April’s hand trembled as she reached for her water. “Ryan is a nice enough fellow, but it’s clear he’s really struggling with his mother’s death. It was very painful for him to sell her cottage. He seemed withdrawn. A lot on his mind and perhaps in his past too.”
“He seemed nice to me,” said Mr. Conyers.
“I have a feeling he needs prayer. We should pray for him.”
“Certainly, we will, dear. You may depend on us,” Mrs. Conyers said genuinely.
“Thanks, Mum.”
After tea and cheesecake, Mr. Conyers stood and stretched. He patted his stomach. “Lovely dinner.” He glanced at his wife. “My bed is calling to me.”
“Da, it’s only half seven.” April laughed. “It’s been nice to have you over. Let’s do this often.”
“Certainly.” Mrs. Conyers stood with her plate and headed for the sink.
“No, Mum. I’ll take care of it. You go on home.”
“So quick to get rid of us, are you?” Mr. Conyers draped an arm around April’s shoulders.
“You’re such a joker. I’ll see you at church on Sunday.”
“Bye, love.”
As April locked the door behind them, she heard her mum say, “Lock tight now, dear.”
She called through the door, “Yes, Mum.” She smiled all the way back to the kitchen, shaking her head.
Once April cleaned the kitchen, she went into the office and sat at the desk. The box in front of her contained a few small mementos she had carefully packed. The items had belonged to Ryan’s mother, and she thought they may be of sentimental value. Also enclosed was a book she’d purchased at Horden Castle. She hoped Ryan would like the little souvenir. She also added a short note of thanks for all he had done to help her buy the cottage.
Memories of the week she’d spent with him rushed back. She was unexpectedly pressed with the need to pray for him. She slid to her knees and asked God to touch his heart, protect him from all forms of harm, and lead him to Jesus.
Now engulfed with peace, she rose and continued the packing and labeling of the box. Yes, she felt much better after placing Ryan in God’s hands. Who knew if he had anyone else praying for him?
∞∞∞
New York City, New York, U.S.A.
2019
Ryan checked his mail and found a small pa
ckage. He didn’t remember ordering anything. He armed it up and headed for his apartment. He sorted through bills and advertisements, pausing at the package with an international stamp. Turning it over, he noticed it was from the U.K.
He retrieved a bottle of water, stalling, his gaze fixed on the package across the room—fearful of what it may contain. As he walked by the table, he grabbed it, and strode to the sofa and plopped down. As he ran his fingers over the carefully scripted address in April’s careful handwriting, he wondered how she was and if she was still liking the cottage—his mother’s cottage.
After ripping the paper off, he opened it to reveal a tour guide his mother had penned, a few of her travel mementos, and a souvenir book about Horden Castle. An envelope tucked inside exposed a note.
Ryan,
I’m enclosing a few items of your mother’s that I thought you may want. Merely mementos, but I thought you might like to have them. Also enclosed is a book about Horden Castle that may be of interest to you, especially since your ancestors walked the halls and grounds very much as we did that nice day. I enjoyed our tour and hope you did as well. I trust you are well.
May God bless and keep you,
April
Ryan stared at the note. He read it again and tried to ignore the ache in his middle. She was a kind person. That’s all it amounted to. Yet, he’d never met a woman like her.
He tossed the empty box onto the coffee table and jumped from his seat so sudden he felt a brief wave of dizziness. She was a total stranger. They’d had a business arrangement, and that was it. He stormed off to the bedroom, placing his bottle of water on the mantel as he passed. The phone rang while he changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt.
“Hello.” He paused with the t-shirt still over his head, the phone pressed to his ear.
“Hey, old man. Haven’t seen you in ages.” The voice paused. ‘Well, since I ran into you at Nonie’s.”
Permelia Cottage Page 22
