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“I'll purr for you too, if you rub me like that.”
She laughed. “I know how to make you purr. You're easy. And Fenway is growing on you, admit it.”
She was right, of course, but he wasn't about to admit it. “He's all right,” Will said, and scratched Fenway’s head. “For a cat.”
* * *
Not only hadthey been living together for eight weeks, but as of today—and unbeknownst to her—he’d owned the house on the Vineyard for seven weeks.Theyowned the house on the Vineyard. Things had progressed rather quickly, and the sale had gone through without a hitch.
The first time Will had walked inside of it was the day the purchase and sale agreement was signed; up until then, Ed had been his eyes, and he’d assured Will that the house was in remarkable condition considering how many times it had been bought and sold over the years. The foundation and chimney were sound, and the basement was dry. There was no rot or insect infestation anywhere—except for a large, abandoned wasp nest in an attic vent. The original woodwork was intact, including the large built-in china cabinets in the corners of the dining room. The crown molding, the cabinetry and shelving, the wood flooring—everything was solid and only in need of some care.
Ed had been instrumental in helping Will with the restoration. He knew who to call when Will wanted something done a specific way, and understood Will’s goal: to bring back the house from Elizabeth's memories. The wiring and plumbing were updated, walls were repaired and repainted, cabinets and floors were refinished, and landscapers were hired to work on the property. The only thing missing was furniture, but he wanted Elizabeth to pick out what she wanted.
Most of his other ideas revolved around making the place more energy efficient without making any drastic changes. He’d called Stephanie Hanscom, and she’d provided him with a wealth of information. He explained that it was a very old home, and while he wasn't looking to go completely green, he wanted to do what he could without compromising the house’s integrity. She understood and gave him information on easy, basic changes that could be made without altering the house too severely. He wanted to get a jump on them, but again, not without Elizabeth's permission, and so he would wait. Patiently.
Charles had accompanied Will to the Vineyard for the closing and finally confessed to him on the telephone just this morning that Jane knew about everything.
Will's mouth hung open. “Are you kidding? You said you wouldn't tell her.”
“I didn't. She found the stub from the boat ticket in my pants pocket when she was doing laundry. You should have heard me trying to come up with a story for why I was on Martha's Vineyard.”
“If she tells Lizzy—”
“She's won’t. She's thrilled you've bought the house, and she knows how much that place means to Lizzy. She was practically in tears when I finished telling her the whole story of how it all came about. She won’t say a word. When are you going to tell Elizabeth, anyway? You've done most of the work, haven't you? What are you waiting for?”
“Everything is done. Well, everything that I can do without her, anyway.” Will paused. “I'm actually a little nervous about how she'll react.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’ve been having this ongoing discussion about the household bills and the fact that she's not having to pay anything… I’m worried about how she’ll feel when she finds out I bought her a house.”
Charles laughed. “Ah, the independent Bennet sisters. I had that conversation with Jane.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I might not make as much as you, but I make enough. Her income doesn't really factor in. Everything we make goes into one account now, so it's all one big happy pile anyway.”
Will laughed. “Yeah, well, we're obviously not at joint-account level yet.”
“Soon?”
Will spoke quietly. “I'd marry her tomorrow, if she'd have me.”
“I think she would.”
“I don't know if she would, not yet. I'm still amazed she agreed to live with me. When the time is right, I'll know. We'll know.”
“It's not like you just bought heranyhouse. Jane told me how sad Lizzy was when the house was sold out of the family, and how she's always dreamed of getting it back. Why would she be upset?”
“I don't know. But there's always a chance.”
“Don't worry about it, I'm sure it will be fine. So, back to my original question...when are you going to tell her?”
“I have a plan. I just have to talk to the Gardiners.”
* * *
Thanksgiving morning dawnedcrisp and sunny, a beautiful fall day on Martha’s Vineyard. Elizabeth woke early and climbed from bed to don a pair of flannel pajamas she’d packed, and as she dressed, Will woke as well.
