“Thanks, Grandad.” I stand and hoist the box under my arm again, giving his hand a final squeeze. I’m getting better at reading his good days and bad days—the ones where he doesn’t make it into the kitchen or goes to bed before we can all have dinner—but today is a good day.
“Anything for you, Jameson. Anything for you.” His grey eyes glitter behind his glasses and he holds my gaze for just a beat too long.
“See you for dinner?” I ask, breaking whatever odd tension there is between us. What I wouldn’t give to be able to read his mind.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Avi’s been working over the meat pies all afternoon, so you know I’ll be there.”
“Can’t pass up a meat pie out of your kitchen,” I say, backing away toward the door.
“Avi’s kitchen. Hers are better,” he says matter-of-factly, unwavering pride resonating in his voice.
“Well, I guess I’ll find out tonight.”
The anticipation of digging into the letters makes me light on my feet as I head for my room.
I’m staying in the inn’s owner suite. Which I appreciate, considering the other option was my old room in the cottage—and my six-foot-two frame was not made for a twin bed. I didn’t want to impose on Gran and Grandad’s space either, and I like being inside the inn so the night manager can come to me instead of bothering them in their cottage if there’s an issue.
In my room, I sit back against the headboard and peer into the box. There must be hundreds of letters inside.
Love letters.
I’m so out of my depth here. I’ve never so much as written a love letter—unless I count the emails I attempted to send to Avi, but I’m not going to count those. Nope, and I’m not going to think about them either.
I’m leaving all that behind. Time to move forward. No more looking back.
I grab a few of the loose sheets from the top of the pile and am met with two sets of distinct handwriting. My grandmother’s is a loopy script, feminine and soft. My grandfather’s is more precise and shows his steady hand, thoughtful and exact. I take note of the dates written in the top right-hand corners:February 1965,March 1970…
I pull them all from the box and begin arranging them in order. Logically, I should read them that way, right? But it’s hard to focus on the dates when the obvious affection pours off the page like water over the falls into the Fairy Pools. It’s so clear, so obvious, how much they care for each other with every word written.
Once I finally have them all stacked together—483 letters in total—all I want is to dive into what I’m sure is one of the most beautiful love stories ever written, but there’s a knock at my door that pulls me away. Glancing at my watch, I realize it’s gone six o’clock—dinnertime. This is going to have to wait.
I’m surprised to find Avonlea standing on the other side of my door.
How is she this stunning in a T&T Pub apron?
“Hi,” she says, and ducks her head away from my searching gaze. “Your gran asked me to come get you for dinner.”
“Of course she did,” I mumble. “You okay, after this morning’s scare?”
She nods and I step out of my room, closing the door with a click behind me.
“Aye. Thank you for keeping me from becoming roadkill.” She chuckles under her breath and glances up at me from beneath her lashes. I’m glad she can laugh about it, because my heart was riotous the whole walk back to the inn. I think I looked over my shoulder a dozen times to make sure she was okay.
“Happy to be of assistance,” I say.
When we reach the dining room, I expect her to go back to the kitchen, but she follows me to the booth in the corner. She hasn’t eaten with us since the night she arrived. I think she’s been hiding inthe kitchen to avoid me. Maybe my apology this morning paved the way for her to feel comfortable eating with us again.
“Aren’t you going to take your apron off, dear?” Gran asks.
Avi glances down and laughs. “Oh. I forgot I had it on. Back in a mo’.” She saunters into the kitchen, her lithe hips swaying as she goes.
I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them only to see my grandparents watching me with knowing, conspiratorial smiles on their lips.
Well, shit. My propensity toward blushing has never gone away, and I feel the tips of my ears heat. I glance back toward the kitchen where Avi comes out the swinging door a moment later.
My heart stops.
Now I can see what I couldn’t before.
