When I asked her about borrowing some, she was quick to agree. “Anytime, Sebastian. I’ll give you the code to the garage, and you can borrow them anytime.” She flashed me a smile. “As long as you fix all my stuff, too.”
“You just hired a handyman, Eleanor.”
“Great.”
“Make me a list, and I’ll start next week.”
She clapped her hands. “Now I can order those cupboards I wanted for in here!”
I looked at the vast array of white cupboards already lining the walls in the large garage. “What’s wrong with these?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I want stainless steel and wood—dark, thick wood.”
“What are you doing with these?”
She shrugged. “I was going to throw them out. I don’t want them. Any ideas?”
I stepped closer, inspecting them. They were simple, white, and still in good condition. They would be easy to match, and with new handles and a coat of paint, look like new. I could add new trim and molding, and they would be perfect. “If I pull them out without charge, can I have them?”
“For Maggie?”
I nodded. “She said how much she’d love to update the kitchen.” I grinned. “Our budget could handle these.”
She held out her hand. “You have a deal.”
“Can we keep this a secret? I want to surprise her.”
She smiled warmly at me. “Sebastian, we’re going to get along just fine.”
I laughed and followed her back into the house, already feeling at home in this new life I was creating.
CHAPTER TEN
SEBASTIAN
We had sat down to dinner, and were enjoying some wine, when Patrick arrived. He rushed in the side door, calling his apologies, kissing Eleanor, shaking my hand, and hugging Maggie, telling her how pleased he was to finally meet her. He attacked his dinner with gusto, sipping wine and telling tales from the hospital. He was of average height, his hair mostly silver, but his blue eyes were bright and intelligent. Kind. He was entertaining, charming, and effervescent.
He was also obviously in love with his wife, and the feelings were returned tenfold. The shared glances, the way he leaned over to stroke her cheek or touch her hand—they left no doubt as to their feelings. I could see Maggie and me, years down the road, being the same way. I was already very attached to her, and it had only been a few days. I was certain she was my future. As I picked up my wineglass, I caught her eye, smiling and sending her a wink. My smile grew wider as pink flooded her cheeks and she bit her lip.
Eleanor and Patrick both chuckled, and it was my turn to feel the heat in my cheeks. Patrick pushed his plate away with a contented sigh. “Eleanor, my love, that was delicious.”
“Agreed.” I nodded.
She smiled graciously. “Maggie brought dessert. Your favorite, Patrick, carrot cake.” She stood, and Maggie jumped to her feet.
“I’ll help, Eleanor.”
“Thank you, Maggie.”
They gathered the dishes and left the table, chatting amicably.
Patrick smiled at me. “So, Sebastian, Eleanor told me how you and Maggie met.”
I stiffened, waiting for his lecture. I was prepared for a long, drawn-out diatribe about how foolish I was to give up a sure job and a safe life for a new life with a girl I barely knew, no job, and no guaranteed future. What he did say surprised me.
“Insurance, eh? What a horrid thought. I can barely stand buying it, never mind selling it.” He reached over and clapped me on the shoulder. “And the added bonus of a girl who adores you? Who wouldn’t jump at the chance of a new start? And this is a great place to do so. I love this town.”
“My father didn’t think so.”
He studied me for a moment. “I understand your last name is Ruggers. And Eleanor tells me you come from Vancouver.”
“Yes.”
“My last name is Ruggers too.”
“I’ve heard.”
“May I ask your father’s name?”
“Michael Anthony Ruggers.”
He took a long sip of his wine. “And your grandfather’s name—your father’s father—was it Anthony Paul Ruggers?”
I frowned.
How did he know that?
“Yes. How—”
He cut me off. “And you—you are Sebastian Paul Ruggers?”
Now I was downright anxious.
“How did you know that? How do you know my full name? Or the name of my grandfather?”
Patrick didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he leaned back and laughed. Big guffaws of mirth echoed off the walls. I stared at him, wondering what could be so funny about my father’s or grandfather’s names. Eleanor and Maggie came in, carrying cake and coffee, and sat down, looking at me. I shrugged, having no idea what was going on.
Eleanor shook her head. “Patrick,” she admonished him. “It’s not that funny.”
“But it is,” he insisted.
Eleanor glared at him, and with a final guffaw, he stopped.
He wiped his eyes, added cream to his coffee, and took a bite of cake, chewing it slowly.
“Great cake, Maggie.”