Agnes nodded once, passing by me to place the box on the thick rug at the foot of the bed. I hesitated to follow her through the door. I’d been in this room many times over the years—running in to collect Gran for tea, climbing into bed for comfort when I’d had a nightmare as a boy, or standing around in my rain gear while I trembled with excitement, waiting for Grandad to layer up in his woolen jumper and fleece to go off for a stalk.
This room had been a safe space.
I’d sat in that very window seat as a boy, running my toy trains along the windowsill, looking out at the snow that blanketed the fields in the winter while Grandad sat in his armchair, reading aloud. And I’d stood in this very doorway before Gran’s funeral, watching Grandad fasten his cufflinks with that quiet strength I’d always admired.
The memories flooded me as I stepped across the threshold, my heart thumping hard against my ribs. I felt sick. But I was leaving for Houston in a couple of days, and his affairs needed to be seen to.Allof them. Not just his finances, but his personal effects too. That was half the reason I’d come all the way out here, and this was the last room that needed sorting before I left. Lena had asked about it a couple times, but I kept pushing it off. Now I almost wished I hadn’t.
I wished I’d let her help me through this. She’d have made it easier. That was her superpower.
A heavy, bitter ache twisted inside me, and I stuffed it aside. The combination of missing Grandad, missing Lena, and trying to convince myself Iwasn’tmissing Lena was a toxic mix. Thinkingabout her that day in the courthouse, about how angry she’d been, how determined she was not to let me hold up my end of the agreement…It had been abundantly clear then how much she wanted to purge me from her life. Just like we were about to purge this space of Grandad’s things—clothes he would no longer need, the bed he’d never sleep in again, knickknacks that would no longer bring him joy.
“I’m happy to start going through his wardrobe for donation,” Agnes said. “I don’t think there’s any need for you to faff about with most of what he kept in there. We both already know your Grandad had an unhealthy obsession with plaid.”
A laugh caught in my chest.
“I’ll hold back anything I think you might want to keep,” she said.
“Sounds good,” I agreed, voice rough.
She turned to me. “You all right?”
I nodded, heading for his dresser and pulling out a drawer. I was good. Ihadto be good. What other option was there? Did I wish that Grandad was still alive and that Lena was still by my side? Of course I did. But wishing wouldn’t change anything. This was my reality now, where I had to figure out how to manage without both of them.
“I don’t suppose you want any of his suits?” Agnes said, holding a luxurious three-piece navy wool suit. “I think they’d all be too narrow in the shoulders for you.”
I hummed in agreement. “Though if you find his kilt and Prince Charlie jacket and waistcoat, I’d like to have those.”
“Of course,” Agnes said. She returned to her task, gently folding items of clothing and filling the cardboard box. She used the same gentleness and care as she did with everything else, and I took comfort in the certainty that the estate would be in good hands while I was away. Agnes would look after the interior while Callum managed the exterior. I’d return a couple times a year with Milo to check on things and oversee the progression of the wind farm construction, but Braeburn couldn’t be home. Not long term. It would be too difficult to manage the business from this far away without someone like Lena around to help me.
And there would never be anyone like Lena, my mind screamed.
No one else could ever hold my life together with such efficiency. No one else would deal with my bullshit the same way. No one else would have a smile that could make my stomach drop and my heart crash against my ribs. I shoved away the pang of regret her absence caused me. There was no use thinking about her, because everything was different now.
“Oh, Lord,” Agnes said. “I remember this monstrosity.”
I turned around just in time to see her stumble out of the closet with a horrible tartan jacket. It was bright red and green and gold with overstuffed shoulder pads.
“He wore that for Christmas dinner sometimes,” I said, caught by the flash of memory. This one made me smile. “Gran always complained.Loudly.”
“Because she said he looked like a sofa. Pretty sure she’s the one who hid it way back here.”
“Gran would probably want us to burn it.”
Agnes cocked her head. “Maybe we should keep it and have a little turnout blanket made for Bonnie for the winter.”
“Mmm…dressing her up, Agnes?” I said, laughing in spite of myself. “Sounds like a pet to me.”
Agnes huffed. “I just don’t want the little thing to be cold traipsing around our garden.”
“If she’s going to be so insistent on hanging out here, maybe you should reach out to her owners about adopting her.”
“She’snota pet,” she said with scowl, but I caught a partial smile.
I smirked. My hand itched for my phone, itched to message Lena this most recent Bonnie update, but then I remembered why I couldn’t, and my smile fell away. How long would it take me to stop wanting to share these things with her?
I turned back to my work, shifting through the drawer of Grandad’s belongings. I found both sets of his favorite cufflinks—the ones with the stag’s head and the ones with Celtic knotwork—and tucked them into my pocket. Those would be coming back to Houston with me.
“What about all the pictures?” Agnes asked, glancing around the walls from one thick frame to the next. Grandad and Gran out on the estate. Me as a boy. Grandad with his hunting rifle on his shoulder.
