The House on Blackberry Hill (Jewell Cove 1)

The waitress came and served Abby’s meal. The smell was enough to make her nearly wilt with pleasure. With a smile the woman turned to Tom. “You want a pint of the usual, Tom? Something to eat?”

“I ate at Bryce’s, thanks, Tanya. But a pint would be good.”

So much for getting rid of him, then.

Abby poured a little of her dressing over her salad and speared a circle of cucumber. “I hope you don’t mind if I eat. I’m starving.”

“Feel free.”

She was self-conscious eating in front of him, wondering if he could hear every chew and swallow, but refused to let him take away her enjoyment of the food.

She washed down the cucumber with her rum and ginger and put down her fork. “Tom … may I call you Tom?” At his short nod she continued. “I’m not going to unload the house on an impulse or because someone pressures me.” Tanya came back and served his beer and slipped away again. Abby cleared her throat. “I’m spending the next few weeks evaluating, and that’s all. I’ll be talking to my lawyer and looking at my options, which may include contractors. I’m sure you’re not the only game in town, and I intend to cover all my bases.” She looked squarely into his eyes. “I feel like you’ve ambushed me twice today. It’s not exactly doing you any favors.”

He took a long drink of his beer and put it down on the table. “Since we’re moving to a first-name basis … Abigail.” He sighed. “Look, maybe I seem a little pushy—”

“A little?” She raised her eyebrows, challenging. “You barged into my house an hour after I arrived and now you’ve interrupted my dinner.”

His lips curved. “Okay, a lot pushy. The truth is, I have a thing for old houses and the one you’ve inherited is a doozy. It was and still is a landmark and just needs some TLC. It’s no more complicated than that. The idea of restoring a house like that is a dream come true for a guy like me.”

He was being completely honest. She could read it in his gaze and the passion in his voice. Why couldn’t he have said that earlier? Knowing he had a personal stake in it rather than simply seeing dollar signs softened her a bit.

“All right. I’ll consider your offer. After looking into all my options, of course.”

He turned his glass in a circle on the tabletop, leaving a wet ring. “Thank you,” he conceded. “It’s just that the house is a real treasure. It deserves to finally be looked after. If you don’t want to do it, I’d like to. There’s so much history there, it would be a shame for it to disappear or be covered up.”

“If it’s got such historical significance, maybe it should be a museum.”

His eyes widened. “The town tried to convince Marian to sell it to them for years. She always said no. Said it was supposed to stay in the family.” He looked away. “Or so the story goes.”

The last sip of her drink soured in her mouth. “In the family? That’s odd, considering we never met when she was alive. Family couldn’t have been too important.” She felt tension build at the base of her neck. So the town had pestered Marian. They’d probably approach her, too. She should be prepared for that.

“Maybe she wanted to make up for that by leaving you the estate.”

“It’s not like I can exactly ask her, can I?” Abby replied bitterly. There’d been ample time for Marian to connect with Iris or even Abby, but she never had. Not once. The idea of selling it outright and being well shot of it had a certain allure. “Look, as I said, I’ll consider your offer. I can’t promise more than that.”

“That’s all I ask.” He sat back in his chair and she examined his face once again. Did he really have to be so good-looking? It wasn’t fair. Maybe it made her shallow but it was harder to say no to a man like Tom than it would be if he were short, fat, and balding.

But it was more than just good looks with Tom. He was so sure of himself, so confident in his abilities. She envied him his self-assurance. It came naturally to him, while she had to work at it every day.

She cut into the rest of her sandwich with vigor, Tom be damned. She was hungry and she was tired and she was starting to come around to his way of thinking and didn’t want to. If she hired him—and it was a big if—he would be at the house all the time. She would see him on a regular basis. She would be tied to him for weeks. And while the idea of being tied to someone like him was attractive, in reality it would be trouble. He was interested in her house and that was all.

And wasn’t that a laugh. Someone was interested in her for her money when all her life she’d barely had two pennies to rub together. It was why she had to keep a clear and logical head about this whole thing.

“What do you do, Abby? For a job, I mean?”

She finished the last crumb of French bread and pushed her plate aside, feeling ridiculously giddy that he’d called her Abby instead of Abigail or Miss Foster. “I’m a teacher. Kindergarten and grade one.”

His smile widened and his eyes gleamed. “Of course you are.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you look like a teacher. Sound like one, too.” He tapped the rim of his glass. “Do you read?”

She smiled then. “I would hope so. Being a teacher and all.”

His lips twitched. “I mean for pleasure.”

“Constantly.” The admission came quickly. Reading took her away from reality. Taught her new things and took her places she could only dream of. As a kid she’d always had her nose in a book.