Page 65 of Manors & Mischief

I lean down, giving her a chaste kiss. “I don’t know what you wished for, but I know it’s going to work out.”

“I certainly hope so.” She chews over her lip. “So, it’s the well, isn’t it?”

“Hmm?”

“The well. I remember back when you were being a jerk that you used to specify that it was the property you wanted, not necessarily the house. I thought it was a weird way to word things, but I chalked it up to being from up north, or maybe even from a small town, but things are clicking into place for me?” She asks the last bit like it’s a question she’s not sure she has the correct answer for.

“I used to think it was just the well, but then when you bought the house, I lost it. There are a lot of memories with my grandfather tied up in the entire property.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“A myriad of reasons. I’m a grown man who wants a well. In the beginning, I even thought maybe if you didn’t know it existed, you’d be willing to give up this parcel.”

“You must trust me now,” she notes, and there’s a hint of a tease in her voice. “What do you want to do with it?”

I shrug, peering over at the structure. Suddenly, it sounds like I’m a little kid again and she won’t take me seriously. These are the kind of stories you believe in when you’re little, but at some point, you’re supposed to grow out of them.

“Come on,” she says, needling me in the side.

“I want the well to become a Harvest Falls attraction, I guess. I think it’s another landmark to be shared with everyone. I’d like for it to be frequented again. It’s a shame no one comes here anymore, and I’m not even sure anyone actually remembers it exists, which is sad. The magic should be shared with everyone.”

She doesn’t balk at my statement, even though I feel stupid saying it. She only smiles. “I like that idea.” Backing away, she surveys how we got here. “This is on the manor property, right?”

I nod.

“We could make a trail. The trailhead can either be at the road or somewhere off the manor property. We can ask your mom to get a plaque erected, explaining about the well. I suppose we’ll have to play nice with Nichols because he’s the one who will have to make it a historic landmark, if it isn’t already.”

“You would do that?”

“We,” she clarifies.

I like the sound of that. I like the sound of that so much that I don’t want to even put it into words.

She seems to guess that I’m too emotional to talk. “You’re lucky you know the owner now. Let’s make it happen, Devon. I love the idea of making the well a tourist stop. Imagine everyone coming here and throwing their coins into the well every year, like a tradition. Maybe if we ever have a little village tour or walking tour, we could add it as a stop by itself.”

“Maybe next year we can actually do our skit at the well itself. We’ll have to come up with something different to do at the manor.”

“Yes!” she says. “I love it. We can add a few permanent benches, maybe even have the pathway circle around the well. I don’t want anything too big that will interfere with the natural beauty of the forest here, but I don’t think a path could hurt that much. Not concrete, but maybe mulch or stone, and we should make it wide enough so that anyone with mobility issues can access it too.”

I pull her close and kiss her, almost like an exaggerated peck you see in old-timey movies. “You’re perfect.”

She has to catch her breath when I let her go, but she blushes anyway. “We got this, Devon.”

I believe her. I don’t know how, but I do, and at least one good thing happened. She must believe in the well, too, because she doesn’t talk about having to pay the fine again. The whole way back to the house, she asks about my grandfather and the well. She asks if I know of anyone else who has wished on the well and had it come true. Then the first thing she does when we get back is try to look it up on her laptop.

That doesn’t last very long though. She shuts it. “Nothing. I’ll have to try the library.”

This woman is nothing short of amazing.

23

EMBER

Aspare room upstairs looms dark and empty despite the heat still lingering in my body from how close Devon and I were standing by the well, staring into each other’s eyes. Like two opposing magnets, pulling each other in.

I flick on the overhead light. A simple black, antique chandelier blooms to life and flickers before becoming solid. The bulbs need a good dusting along with the rest of the room. A monstrosity of a bed sits against the wall on the right. To my left, a huge dresser sits topped in white marble with a mirror vanity. Across from the door, there’s a floor to ceiling window with elegant emerald green drapes weathered by the sun and neglect.

The primary bedroom was my first project. A similar feel to this, only larger with a fireplace, settee, and a wardrobe that looks like something straight out of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I even checked it for doors to secret worlds, or another cool, hidden passage. No such luck. Just moth balls and years of settled dust. The room I cleaned up for Bea to sleep in was next. An even smaller room than this that I could accomplish within a few hours. But this one, this is one of the bigger ones.