Page 14 of Falling for the Grumpy Stranger

I walked over to the chest, traced the initials with my finger and touched the small lock. I wondered how many timesMargaret took the tiny key out of her locket or dresser to unlock it, so she could add linens and blankets and other treasures for her trousseau. The small, insignificant article had referred to her as Margaret Grimstone. Back then, women didn’t hold on to their maiden names, so it was easy to conclude that she never got married. Her hope chest had been just that, a wooden, beautifully decorated box that held all her hopes that she’d one day be a wife.

Rhett’s footsteps caused a little jolt of what felt like nerves. Only it wasn’t the waiting-for-the-dentist-to-drill-a-tooth case of nerves. It was a good case of nerves, one that left me feeling slightly giddy. I froze for a second trying to understand that strange reaction.

His smooth, deep voice floated around the paneled room. “I think this screwdriver will work. I left all my tools at—” He stopped and shook his head. “I didn’t bring much with me.”

Seconds later, he held the screwdriver and the latch. “I guess that high school shop class came in handy, too.”

I smiled. “So, you weren’t one of those guys who was always covered in grease, leaning under the hood of an old truck?”

He patted his chest. “Computer nerd. Although, I did occasionally lean under the hood of my 2000 Honda. Should we open it up?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s. Come on, Margaret, ole gal, don’t fail me now,” I said. It took some strength, mostly Rhett’s, to unstick the lid from the bottom half. It was quite heavy.

“Craftsmanship was something to brag about back then,” Rhett noted.

We both stared down into the chest. For a fun second it felt as if we were in this together, and I was enjoying this new connection I had. The top layers were neatly folded and, it seemed, never-used linens, all embroidered with tiny violets. The chest was full, and I couldn’t wait to get past the top layer.

“Well, my theory about it containing a lot of moth-eaten fuzz has been busted.” He knocked on the heavy lid. “I guess this is cedar, and the quality is so good, even the moths didn’t manage to get in.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Rhett. Do you mind if I take all the items out? I could place them on the desk.” Something occurred to me then. “You can’t send this chest and Margaret’s belongings off with the second-hand collectors. Even if everything else goes, this belongs with the house. It belongs in Margaret’s house.”

I was sure I caught the slightest glimmer of a smile, but it might have been wishful thinking or a trick of the shadows in the room. “You would make one heck of a lawyer, Ella. I’ll consider keeping it, and yes, feel free to look at all of it. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

“Right.” His gaze held mine for a touch longer than was necessary. Right then, it occurred to me that after the rather rough start, we might very well become friends. I hoped that was the case. Something else occurred to me. My hands flew to my mouth. “I forgot to bake cookies. I was so excited about digging into Margaret’s things, I forgot all about them. I promise I’ll bring them tomorrow.” Then my posture shrank. “That is—if I don’t finish here today. I don’t want to presume.”

“Let’s see how far you get today. I’ve got some work to do on the computer.”

“Right. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse,” I promised. There it was again—the glimmer of a smile. Something told me that full smile would not disappoint.

Rhett walked out of the room. I turned back to the chest and took a deep breath. “All right, Mags. Hope you don’t mind if I call you that. Margaret seems so formal considering I’m about to rummage through your trousseau. I promise to treat it all with respect.”

The linen still felt remarkably sturdy considering its age. Towels, hand towels and even two sweet satin pillows had all been embroidered with purple violets. A yellowed ribbon was tied around a stack of white handkerchiefs. The top of the desk was covered in dust. I couldn’t possibly place the linens on top of it. I glanced around the room but couldn’t find anything to wipe the desk with that wasn’t also covered in dust. Rhett had not been exaggerating about all the dust in Whisper Cove settling inside the house.

I headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. I’d seen a roll of paper towels on the counter. I froze as I stepped inside the kitchen. Rhett was sitting at the table with his laptop.

I shrank down and pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh, it’s me, your mouse,” I whispered. “I need a paper towel to wipe the desk,” I continued in a whisper that was probably louder than my normal speaking voice. I hurried across the floor and hit a majorly squeaky board. I froze again and looked back over my shoulder and shrugged coyly before continuing to the roll of towels. I grabbed a square and pulled to tear it from the roll, but I pulled too hard and the entire roll fell over. I was still holding the end as the roll leapt from the counter and raced across the floor, leaving a long, white trail of paper behind it. I looked up in horror.

Rhett stared at me, plainly, over the top of his laptop.

Again, I pressed a finger to my lips and quickly began rolling it back up. I was keenly aware that Rhett was watching the entire circus act from behind his laptop. The roll felt ten times fatter and was quite messy by the time I got to the end of the trail. I placed it back on the counter and slipped back out with my one square. I probably should have taken two for the big desk, but considering how the first tear-off went, I didn’t dare try again.

I left the kitchen and then I heard something. A chuckle, a deep chuckle. Had I imagined it? Was it Rhett? Or maybebesides being cursed, the house was also haunted. Nowthatwould make a great story.

Chapter Twelve

RHETT

The six people stared at me from the grid of boxes on the monitor. Some were familiar, employees who’d decided to stay on when the new owners took over, and some were new hires, people I’d never worked with. Either the new hires were getting younger or I was getting older. Liam was the new manager for the research and development team. He’d worked for Mike and me from the start, when we were just a disorganized, dream-chasing, caffeine-pumped start-up. I was glad to see him take a leadership role in the newly structured company. I was also glad to be leaving the company for good. I hadn’t planned such an abrupt departure, but that was how things worked out after the accident.

“I think there should be an entire team dedicated to moving the AI software forward,” I continued. I’d been instructing the team on how to structure their projects. Continuing as a consultant for the first six months had been part of the sale contract.

A squeal made everyone, even the people who were obviously paying more attention to their phones than the meeting, look up in surprise.

“Everything all right there, Rhett?” Liam asked, sounding slightly amused. “Something you want to tell us?” he continued.

There was a second squeal but not quite as boisterous.

“Mice,” I said plainly. “I’ve got mice. Anyhow, I feel as if I’m losing people’s attention because it’s getting close to the lunch hour. We can continue this next week, same time.” We signed off. I got up from the table and decided to find out what the squeals were about. I only hoped it wasn’t due to real mice. I was pretty sure I’d heard squeals of delight and not terror.

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