Page 12 of The Guest Cottage
“Understood. My point is that I won’t miss paying my rent.” She hadn’t lied about the pampered part. She was what they called a person of means, and yet her life didn’t have real meaning. At least, not the meaning she wanted.
She’d get there, though. Relocating here was the first step. Now she just had to keep up her momentum.
The microwave dinged, and he slid the hot entrée out to a plate, got a fork from the drawer, and put both on the circular placemat on the table. He gave a quick glance at the check and contract before folding both into his pocket. “I’ll get going and let you eat.”
She walked with him to the door. “After this, I’ll find a grocery store and buy real food, but for now, I can’t wait to dig in. Thank you again for being so considerate.”
“Yes, ma’am. Around here, neighbors help neighbors. Keep that in mind.”
Standing in the doorway, she watched him get into his truck, wondering if that last comment was mere friendly conversation or a statement to let her know not to get ideas. Ha! The very last thing she wanted in her life right now was another romantic relationship. No matter how appealing the man might be. It didn’t even matter that he appeared to be the total opposite of Dylan.
But a neighbor, a friend . . . ? With a man like Cort Easton, she’d enjoy that quite a bit.
* * *
The next morning, when Marlow carried her coffee down the hill, she found an Adirondack chair on the dock. She started smiling and couldn’t stop . . . until she glanced around and failed to see Cort. Had he skipped fishing because of her?
If so, why bring her a chair? Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he’d planned to use the chair himself.
Unsure what to think, she walked out to the dock and soon became engrossed in the sunrise. It wasn’t quite as colorful this time, but it was still beautiful. The birth of a new day, full of promise.
Stepping out of her sneakers, she settled into the deep chair, pulling her knees up and loosely draping the throw blanket around her legs and over her lap. Today she’d thought to dress more appropriately because she’d assumed Cort would be there.
The morning was less eventful without him, yet she rejoiced in it anyway. The sunshine on her face, watching birds swoop and hearing frogs awaken—she enjoyed it long after her mug of coffee was gone.
Deliberately, she’d left her phone in the house. After Sandra had talked her ear off yesterday, mostly attempting to bully her or coerce her into returning to her old life, Marlow hadn’t wanted to chance another call until she was ready.
She wasn’t naturally a confrontational person, but through business and her association with Dylan and his family, she’d learn to stand up for herself. Somewhat.
Tomorrow she’d bring the phone so she could take some photos.
Shopping had been an adventure. She hadn’t planned out her own meals for years. Every ten minutes it seemed she found a new way that her marriage had changed her, and now life required a whole new skill set.
She embraced the challenge.
The most interesting part of her trip to town yesterday had been stopping back at the Dry Frog Tavern on her return. It had gotten late, and rather than cook dinner, she’d decided on more pizza.
Everyone had been interested in her, freely questioning her on her whereabouts, how long she planned to stay, and what she thought of the town so far. What she’d noticed most was the lack of artifice. There were no cultured manners, no snooty looks, but yes, plenty of judgment.
Outsiders, she’d heard more than once, always caused suspicion. The experience had been so unique, she’d stayed quite a bit longer than on her previous stop at the bar.
In fact, as her second full day in Bramble rolled on and evening approached, she decided on the same dinner plans, except this time she’d try a burger.
As she strolled into the tavern at exactly six o’clock, the first thing Marlow saw was a Help Wanted sign. Possibilities raced through her mind. Outrageous possibilities. She hadn’t done that type of job since . . . well, high school, and it hadn’t been in a bar but an ice-cream shop. The sign didn’t specify the job, so she had no idea if it’d be janitorial work, waiting tables, dishwashing, or cooking. She stood there, staring at the sign until she heard a laugh.
That’s when she saw the second thing—Cort at a table with three older people, two women and one man. Pen in hand, he wrote in a notepad while the three people all seemed to talk to him at once. One of the women laughed again, putting a smile on Cort’s face even as he shook his head. He started to say something to the woman but suddenly paused and quickly turned until their gazes clashed.
Busted. Heat crawled up her neck and into her face, but she tried to play it off with a friendly wave and an immediate pivot to the bar. Sliding onto a stool, she prayed that Herman would notice her quickly, just to give her something to do.
No such luck. The owner was busy chatting with a customer and never glanced her way. Her gaze skipped around—avoiding Cort and his friends—until she found a dartboard toward the back of the room. She pretended an interest in it, when in truth, she knew nothing at all about throwing darts.
Even before Cort reached her, she knew he was walking over. The air around her changed, as did her heartbeat.
When he took the stool beside her, she tried, and likely failed, to look surprised. “Cort, hi. I hope I didn’t interrupt you.”
“Grabbing dinner again?”
That he acted so casual helped her to do the same. “Afraid so. I shopped the other day but forgot a few things so I ran back into town again. I won’t be able to stay long because some of my groceries need to go in the freezer, but I’ve enjoyed the pizza here so much, I thought I might try a burger on the go this time.”
