by Donna Alward
“You want to recommend this one, don’t you?” she asked. “You like it a lot.”
He nodded. “I think it suits Branson, but it’s pretty isolated. And did I mention the best part? It has its own lighthouse at the edge of the property. Look.”
He pointed southeast, where the land jutted out into the ocean. It wasn’t huge, but sure enough, a red-and-white lighthouse stood sentinel, looking a little worse for wear. “Is it still active?”
“No,” he replied, sounding disappointed. “But the owner assures me it’s still in working order. Solid as the cliff it’s built on.”
It was undeniably romantic. Who wouldn’t want to have their own lighthouse?
“Can we see it?”
He shook his head. “It’s a different key, and I don’t have access to it.”
“Oh.”
They wandered through some more, and Tori was quite taken with it all. When he told her the price tag, she laughed and said a girl could dream, but then laughed again and asked what she’d ever do with all that space. It needed people to fill it up. It needed not only priceless views but life and laughter.
They headed back toward Liverpool, went past the exit and on to a third house that was on Jeremy’s short list. She didn’t like it nearly as well, though. It was in the same price range as the others, but was a little too avant-garde for her in its design. The house itself looked like a giant block dropped on the sand, and inside it was nearly as austere.
“You don’t like it,” he said as they walked through.
“It has every amenity a person could want,” she remarked, “but I feel off balance. I don’t feel at home here. And I know it sounds weird, but I feel like it could just tip over into the Atlantic.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.”
She put her hands on the cold railing of the stairs and said, “It’s the kind of place that people call ‘innovative’ and ‘remarkable’ but there’s not a lot of comfort here.”
“So let’s take it off the list.”
She looked at him with some alarm. “Oh, gosh, don’t take anything I say into account! I have no idea about real estate.”
He came over and stood next to her, his hand on the railing close to hers. “But you do know what goes into making people feel comfortable and at home. It’s part of why the Sandpiper is such a success. That’s what my friend needs right now.”
Her heart stuttered a bit. He was a surprise for sure. “Which one gets you the biggest commission?”
He laughed. “This one, actually. But it’s never about that.”
“It’s not?”
“I don’t need the money. But I like finding people places to live. I like to imagine them happy there.”
“You surprise me, Jeremy.”
“Why?”
She put her hand on his chest. “Because in there is the heart of a man who is looking for a home.”
His face closed off immediately and he stood back. “That’s just you being sentimental.”
She’d touched a nerve; it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. She dropped her hand. “Oh, maybe. I still think it’s nice that you think about what suits the person and not just the biggest payoff.”
He lifted his chin, gesturing toward the front door. “Should we find some lunch?”
Her stomach had been growling for an hour, so she readily agreed. “I know just the place.”
He followed her outside, and she waited while he locked up. All the while Tori realized she was getting a better glimpse of what made Jeremy Fisher tick. And so far, what she saw made her heart soften. He could deny it all he wanted, but she’d been right. He was looking for home.
She’d always known what home meant. She’d always been wanted and nurtured and valued. What must it be like to have to search for those things?
CHAPTER FIVE
JEREMY WAS STILL shaken by Tori’s observation back at the house. Was she right? Did everything come down to wanting to find a place he could call home? He’d done that, hadn’t he? He loved his place, with the view of Central Park and the bustle of New York all around him. He was in the middle of it all. Work, restaurants, theater, museums.
But still, there was something missing. And how astute of Tori to realize it.
He buckled his seat belt and turned to her. “Okay, so where are we going?”
She took him to a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant with scarred wood tables and plastic tablecloths, and ordered them both fish and chips. “It’s the house specialty,” she insisted, and when the food came he goggled at the size of the platter. The whole plate was covered in crispy fries, with two pieces of battered fish on top, a paper cup of tartar sauce and a dish of coleslaw on the side.
“Vinegar?” the waitress asked, as she put down the steaming plates.
“Oh, yes, please.”
Jeremy watched as Tori liberally shook vinegar on her fish and fries. “Come on,” she said, grabbing her paper napkin and putting it on her knees. “Dig in.”
He cut a piece of fish off with his fork and popped it in his mouth. Delicious. Light batter, perfectly crispy and flaky haddock inside. “Mmm.”
“See?” She grinned at him as she speared a fry and dipped it in some ketchup.
He took another bite, then ate a fry and then tried some of the tangy coleslaw. Everything was amazing. He was glad he’d had only a fruit cup at breakfast with his coffee. The portions were huge.
“Why didn’t we come here last summer?” he asked. It was close to her place, close to the Sandpiper.
“Because you can’t get in the door here in the summertime. It’s packed.” She grinned up at him and let out a breath. “I need to slow down.”
“Don’t do it on my account.” Truthfully, her love of food amused him. The last few dates he’d been on, the women had barely tasted their food and then insisted they were full. It had never made sense to him. People needed to eat to survive. It was also an experience to be enjoyed. Seeing Tori’s grin as she bit down on a french fry made him happy for some reason.
“You’re probably used to nicer restaurants,” she said, pausing to take a drink of water. “Honestly, last summer I had no idea you were so rich. I would have recommended a few places. Particularly in Halifax.”
He met her gaze. “At the time I was happy with whatever filled my hunger.”
Her cheeks colored as she interpreted a double meaning he hadn’t intended. But it was true. He’d been hungry for her. He still was, if he were being honest with himself. Knowing she was carrying his child only made her more beautiful, if that were possible. He had no trouble remembering the taste of her lips or the softness of her skin, the scent of sunscreen filling the air and the tangle of her hair in his hands. It was what had driven him to come back here in the first place. Branson’s request had simply given him the excuse.
He shifted in his chair and dug into the fillet once more. Then he changed the conversation to safer topics, like the houses they’d already looked at. “You’re going to recommend the one on the bluff, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I think so, yes. I’ll show him all three and give him my impressions, but overall I think that’s what he’ll pick.”
“It was my favorite. I love how the ocean is so wild there, right on the point.”
They’d made it through their fish and half the fries when Tori pushed her plate back. “Okay, I really have to stop if I’m going to have dessert.”
He gawped. “Dessert?”
She laughed. “Yes. Because they make all their pies on-site and the coconut cream is my favorite.”
He wasn’t sure where he was going to put it, and he wouldn’t have to eat for the rest of the day, but when the waitress came back, they ordered pie—the coconut cream for her and butterscotch for him, something he’d never had before. He had another coffee and she ordered a decaf, an
d they lingered a long time, sipping and picking at their dessert.
“This was nice,” she said, absently fluffing her fork through some of the cream on top of her pie. “I think it bodes well for us getting along.”
“Me, too. Though we didn’t really talk about the future.”
Her face turned troubled, with her lips tightening and her lashes cast down. He wondered why she did that, because he’d noticed it a few times now when there was the potential for conflict.
“Hey,” he said softly, making her look up at him. “We’ll get there. I’ve got more time here. Another week, anyway. I’ve got to go up to Halifax for a few days, too. You can take some time, and I will, too, to see if we can come up with a plan.”
She nodded. “I know. It’s fine, really. I just realized that this really wasn’t how I’d planned to start a family. With his or her parents living in different countries.”
“It’s not ideal, but it’s the reality we have to work with.” At her downcast expression, he put his hand over hers. “Hey. Look on the bright side. I have the means to come visit, or have you come to New York. That sounds okay, right? We won’t have to stress over money.”
Her eyes brightened. “You mean you’d be okay with us staying here?”
He hadn’t meant to agree to that so readily. Truthfully, he’d thought about how great it would be to have her move to New York so he could see his kid whenever he wanted. But he didn’t want to get into that now, and mar the great day they’d been having. “There are a lot of options,” he deflected, pulling his hand away and reaching for the last of his coffee. “So maybe what we need to do is think about what we each want and then sit down and have a discussion about it. See if we can find some middle ground.”
“That sounds fair,” she agreed. “I mean, so far we’ve managed not to argue about anything, and that’s quite an achievement, considering.”
He nodded, but something felt a little bit off. Like they hadn’t argued...yet. And that something was going to come along and cause some friction, and he really didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t want to argue with her at all. Quite the contrary.
Jeremy frowned as he picked up the check. That was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He still desired her, and now that they were spending more time together, he was discovering he still liked her, too. The woman he’d met last summer was the real Tori—smiling and easygoing, easy to be with, and a knack for making him smile. He’d been drawn to her charm and easy laugh, and had felt like he could simply be himself.
The combination made her more dangerous than she could imagine. Because the last thing he wanted was a ready-made family. He didn’t know the first thing about how real families worked. His had always been dysfunctional. His most normal relationship had been with the gardener who had come around twice a week to look after the grounds and cut the grass.
Lord, what would Mr. Adley have to say about this predicament?
He’d tell him to do the right thing. The only trouble was, Jeremy had no idea what the right thing might be. It certainly wasn’t a slapped-together marriage for the sake of a baby. For a marriage, there needed to be love, and Jeremy was relatively certain that he wasn’t capable of that particular emotion.
They got in the car and headed back toward the hotel, where Tori would be able to pick up her car and head home. When they were maybe five minutes away, Tori sat up straight in her seat and pointed. “Slow down...there.” She looked over at him and then pointed again, right at a small for-sale sign on a stake at the roadside. “Turn in here, Jeremy. Please!”
She said it with such urgency that he immediately braked and turned into the side road. “What are you looking for?”
“There was a for-sale sign, and there are only a few houses in here. I’m curious.”
They’d finished their viewings, and it was still early, so he figured he might as well indulge her. “It’s definitely off the beaten path.”
“And straight down to the beach. Not the one by the inn, but a kilometer or so down the coast. It’s not as big, but it’s lovely. And it’s on private property.”
They found the for-sale sign close to the end of the lane, but the gate was closed. Tori looked so disappointed that he picked up his cell and dialed the number for the agent.
Then he turned to Tori with a smile. “He can be here in twenty minutes. It’s vacant—do you want to get out and walk the property?”
“I could stand to walk off some lunch,” she replied, her eyes brightening again. “I’m gonna confess, Jeremy. I’ve always wanted to see this property. I’ve seen it from the water. I had no idea it was for sale, though.”
“Then let’s go.”
He parked the car along the side of the lane, then took Tori’s arm as they navigated their way around the small gate that was more for show than security. The drive was about a hundred and fifty yards long through a stand of trees, but then it opened up to a cleared yard and a property that was smaller and less grand than the others they’d seen, but impressive just the same.
“Oh, wow,” Tori breathed, letting go of his arm as she moved forward. “Look at that.”
The outside of the house was done in gray siding with white trim, with an oversize front door and stone steps and a stone walkway leading toward the drive. He’d seen and dismissed this property listing earlier in the week; at under three thousand square feet and a price tag below a million, it was less than what Branson was looking for. That didn’t detract in any way from its charm. Under the film of snow, they saw stone gardens dotted with evergreen shrubs, and other areas that would no doubt sprout into a profusion of perennials come spring. The back of the house faced the water, and a path that ended in a set of steps led to the white-sand beach below. A quick assessment told Jeremy that the property probably included about three hundred feet or more of shoreline.
Tucked away in a corner was another smaller building, what Jeremy would have assumed was a converted boathouse. It too was gray, but with shaker shingles and a charming red front door. He was acutely aware of Tori at his side, eyes wide, falling in love with the place.
Her current house was about the size of the boathouse, certainly under a thousand square feet. Charm galore, but tiny.
“Oh, isn’t this lovely?” She peeked into the front window. “It could be a guesthouse, or...” She turned to him, her eyes bright. “Something the owners could rent out or something. I mean, it’s nicer than renting a room or basement. Guests would have their own space. I wonder if there’s a little kitchen. It’s cute as anything.”
She was beautiful like this, so animated and with her eyes full of possibilities. It was what made her sweet, what made her entirely suited for her job at the Sandpiper. As she circled the little house, he realized with a sinking heart that she belonged here. She wasn’t the kind to be happy in the city, was she? She loved the ocean, the open spaces, the wildness. It was as different from New York as sun from rain.
And he couldn’t live here. Oh, financially he didn’t need to work another day in his life if he didn’t want to. But he’d be miserable otherwise. He needed a purpose. A challenge.
By the time she’d finished examining the lot, the Realtor arrived and was ready to show them the house. Inside was just as stunning as he’d imagined, with surprises in some of the detail, such as the iron-and-glass doors to a hidden patio. The iron was in the pattern of lilies, scrolling up through the glass. It was one of the nicest custom-made pieces he’d seen, and that was saying something. There were three large bedrooms upstairs, sweeping views, a chef’s delight of a kitchen, and a garden with a stone firepit in the back.
“Oh, look. That’s so pretty! And you could put chairs around it and have fires and roast marshmallows in the summer. And hear the ocean.” Tori stood at the window, her face nearly touching the glass. “I know you said it wasn’t on your list, but this is my favorite one yet.”
&nb
sp; “It’s a bit small for the client. But you’re right. It’s a wonderful property. How long has it been on the market?”
The Realtor, who’d been wisely letting the house speak for itself, stepped forward. “Since September.”
“Really.” Jeremy lifted an eyebrow.
“It’s not really a seller’s market at the moment, as I’m sure you know.” There was no harm in saying it, Jeremy knew exactly what the market was like and the other man knew it. “But the owners don’t want to sell it for less than it’s worth.”
Of course not. And in truth, they could have added a good fifty-to-one-hundred thousand to the price and it would still be a good deal.
“I’ll keep it in mind for other clients,” Jeremy said, offering his hand. “Thanks for coming out today.”
“My pleasure.”
They stepped outside the house again and walked down the lane to where they’d parked the car. Tori lifted her hand in a friendly wave as the Realtor passed them on the way by. He smiled to himself; it was such a small-town thing to do.
They settled back into his car and started on the short drive back to the hotel. Tori sank into the seat and let out a sigh, resting her hand on her tummy. It was such a maternal gesture that his heart wrenched a little. She was going to be a good mother. There was genuine warmth and gentleness to her and he was at least thankful that his child would be in a happy, nurturing environment.
He cast his eyes back onto the road again. He was already thinking in terms of his child living with her as if everything was already settled. Was that really what he wanted? To just back off and leave his kid here, while he returned to his previously scheduled life, with occasional visits so his son or daughter at least knew what he looked like?
He thought back to his upbringing, and his gut twisted. He actually couldn’t remember what his father looked like, and it had taken many, many years for him to stop hoping that one day Brett Fisher would show up for his birthday or for Christmas, and take him away from the cold, lonely life he led. He refused to let any kid of his feel that way—always looking out the window, wondering if his father would come, disappointed when he didn’t, only to have his hopes raised and dashed again and again.
