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“Not unless they need me for backup or for local information of some kind.” He hesitated. “If you want to go back in, we can—”
“Oh, no.” Laughing, she threaded her arm through his and started for his car. “I don’t think your family was particularly thrilled by my presence. Let’s let them relax in peace.”
Once they were back in his car, Nathan started the engine, then gave her a boyish, hopeful smile. “I don’t suppose you’d like to see my place on the way back?”
He’d stopped by her garage apartment many times, but she’d only been to his place once, when they went fishing, and then she hadn’t gone inside. The big old Victorian had intrigued her ever since.
“I’d love to.” She reached into her purse for her cell phone. “Josh and his dad can let Harold out into the backyard for a while.”
While she talked, Nathan eased his car around the circular drive and out onto the road that followed the shore of Lake Ryan.
Banks of snow lined both sides of the road, while out on the frozen lake, little villages of ice-fishing shacks were clustered together. Snowmobile tracks crisscrossed the ice like a network of unmarked freeways.
As they drove down Nathan’s driveway, Sara felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. When he opened the front door of his house, she hesitated, then stepped in and waited for her eyes to adjust.
“I promise I don’t bite,” he said. “I just want to show you what I’ve been working on.”
Maybe he really did want to show her his house, but...
She firmly reined in those errant thoughts as she moved through the entryway to a central hall with wide, double French doors opening into a parlor at the left and dining room to the right. An open staircase led to the second story. When he flipped a switch, a sparkling chandelier bathed the varnished oak floors in light.
“This is lovely,” she murmured, peering into the dining room.
In the middle of the room, a cardboard box held a dozen upright rolls of wallpaper, and plastic sheeting still covered the floor. She could imagine the huge windows hung with airy lace curtains.
“I just redid the parlor woodwork,” he said as he moved across the hall. “Now I need to start going to estate auctions to find the right furniture.”
This room had the same oak flooring, but a good portion was covered with a lush Oriental rug in navy and deep tones of emerald and ruby. A massive fireplace dominated the opposite wall.
She could imagine the mantel decorated with brass candlesticks and draped in greenery. A half-dozen Christmas stockings hung from one end to the other. And just over there—in front of the bay window—was the perfect place for a towering Christmas tree and brightly wrapped packages.
Nathan looked at her. “You haven’t said anything.”
The hint of uncertainty in his voice made her heart melt. “I was just imagining the house decorated for Christmas. Some houses look beautiful. But this house has—” she searched for the right words “—such warmth and character. Stepping inside makes me think of all the happy families who must have lived here through the years.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know much about the families who owned it after my great-aunt, but she certainly was a free spirit. Raised her children like that, too, from what I hear. I’m not sure Ryansville was ever quite ready for Aunt Grace.”
“When will you be done redecorating?”
His smile turned rueful. “Never. But that’s okay—this place has turned into a hobby as much as a home. Want to see the rest?”
With every room she saw, Sara loved it more. The music room and the sunny sewing room in the back. The huge country kitchen, with honey oak cabinets, and windows facing the deep timber to the south. The screened porch off the back entry to fend off the clouds of mosquitoes that would arrive every summer.
That porch would be a beautiful place to curl up with a good book on balmy summer evenings, she thought. I could serve supper out here at the wrought-iron table, and light candles...
But of course she would be in Dallas, not here. And someone far more suited to Nathan, someone of his privileged background, would be the one lighting those candles.
Ignoring her twinge of regret, she followed him back through the main floor and up the staircase.
“You’ll need to really use your imagination here,” he said when they reached the landing. “Five bedrooms—but only one is finished, and the bathroom is still a bit of an adventure.”
She’d already used her imagination too much. The images of having supper with Nathan on the porch and cuddling on the sofa in the glow of a Christmas tree strewn with lights had been entirely too real. Almost as if she’d lived here in another time and had finally come home...
He showed her one bedroom after another with exposed areas of lather and plaster, and patches of water-stained wallpaper where the walls were still intact. “I replaced the roof first thing. Now these rooms will need new flooring and drywall.”
“Would it take long for a contractor to do all this?”
“Maybe not. But I’m doing it myself.”
