Page 64 of The Clifftop Cottage

For a heartbeat she forgot to hide it. Surprise. Gratitude. Something dangerously close to being moved.

Then she swallowed, straightened, and the focus snapped back into place.

“Let’s see what they’ve got.”

His friend slid a pair of gloves across the table beside a cabinet marked: Church Records. 18th Century.

Gabriel watched as she pulled them on, already approaching the drawers, drawn in by the promise of what might be inside.

He hadn’t meant to stop her before. He’d only been afraid.

Some people listened, his mother had said. Some people noticed.

And standing there, in the dust and the half-light, he realised he wanted to be one of them.

22

Erica felt a bounce in her step as she padded barefoot into the kitchen, the cool floor grounding her. She barely needed coffee this morning – the excitement buzzing inside her was enough. She reached for the kettle anyway, out of habit.

She couldn’t believe her luck.

She had found an Isobel.

Born in Rock Cove, in the outer village where farmland had once stretched wide before giving way to neat little housing estates. Gabriel had told her as much. It had to be the Isobel.

She’d nearly kissed him then and there.

The thought made her pause mid-step.

God, what was wrong with her? That wasn’t like her. She wasn’t impulsive. She wasn’t reckless. And yet since arriving in Rock Cove, she didn’t quite recognise herself.

Gabriel was helping. That was all. This was professional.

Right?

She reached for a mug, then hesitated.

Her blog. Her research. Was it just a passion project – or could it be more? Something that might actually support her once the payout from her old business dried up.

Her old business.

The thought dulled things slightly.

She hadn’t checked her emails in a while. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe not.

She sat at the kitchen table and pulled her laptop towards her, lifting the lid. Then a small weight landed squarely on the keyboard.

“Lucky,” she laughed.

The kitten’s fluffy paws danced across the keys, filling the screen with nonsense. He meowed, stretching up to bat at her, blue eyes bright and insistent.

She scooped him into her lap, scratching behind his ear. “You are a menace.”

At least he was a good one.

Taking a breath, she clicked into her inbox.

There it was.