Page 12 of Quinn

Or maybe it wasn’t the drive at all.

Chapter Six

An unexpected surge of excitement shot through Eloise as Quinn pulled up to the restaurant. For every inch of her that prayed this move was the right thing for herself and her brother, there was another inch terrified this would be the biggest mistake of her life. After less than twenty-four hours in West Texas, her fears had completely disappeared and enthusiasm for what was to come continued to build.

Standing on the front porch, Quinn reached for Eloise’s arm. “Listen.”

It took everything in her not to jump at his touch. “Yes?”

“Ryan, Morgan, and the crew are already hard at work in the dining room.” Quinn nodded toward the rhythmic sound of hammering. “If you want to take a look at the apartment space, now would be a good time.”

“Really?” Her heart did a little two step. Even though she was settling in at the ranch, she couldn’t help being excited over a sneak peek at what would be her home.

Quinn led her down a narrow alley and a staircase leading up to a faded gray door. “Watch your step. We came up here when checking out the beams but didn’t fix any of the soft spots on the stairs.”

The steps creaked under their feet, the sound echoing in her ears against the thudding of every heartbeat. At the top, Quinn pushed open the door, and Eloise stepped into the surprisingly spacious room, and back in time about a hundred or so years.

Sunlight filtered through grimy windows, catching the dust they’d stirred up. The space was huge—spanning from back to front of the building. Strips of old wallpaper, probably stylish in its time, hung peeled from the walls after decades of stifling heat and humidity. In one corner, an ancient cast-iron wood-burning stove stood sentinel.

“Oh my goodness.” Eloise moved toward the stove, running her hand over its surface. “This is a Monarch 6210. They were the cream of the crop in the early 1900s.”

Pulling a flashlight from his pocket, Quinn flashed the beam on the old appliance. “You know about antique stoves?”

“My first restaurant job, the owner collected them.” She opened one of the oven doors carefully. “This one’s completely intact. With a little restoration effort, it could probably still work.”

“Here’s something else you might like.” Quinn moved to a corner, illuminating what looked like an old cabinet.

As Eloise drew closer, she saw the old freestanding cabinet was actually a Hoosier. Aged oak with a slate top and the original flour sifter still attached. “The woman who lived here must have loved to cook.” Eloise opened one of the cabinet doors, revealing a collection of ancient utensils. “Holy dairy. A butter mold. And a nutmeg grinder.”

“I know the kitchen is your domain, but do people still use these things?” Quinn’s gaze danced from one ancient utensil to the other.

She shrugged. “I doubt most people even know what they are, but as far back as I can remember, I’ve always loved cooking. Watched cooking shows on television as a kid, and eventually got hooked on antique shows. Oddities like this always came up. I even have a few boxed up and in storage from when I had time to hit estate sales and antique shops.”

“I look forward to seeing your collections some day.”

Surprised by the comment, she turned to see him better in the dimly lit room. Sincerity sparkled in his eyes. Had she ever known anyone who cared one lick about antique kitchen tools? She didn’t know what to make of the gruff man with few words, but she wouldn’t mind learning more. Spinning around, she reached for what she thought was an old coffee grinder. “Oh, wow. It still has beans in it.”

Quinn leaned closer, his presence warm at her shoulder. “I guess they’ve been preserved in time since the town went bust.”

Scanning the sparse dust covered, furnishings she shook her head. “It’s like somebody just walked away one day and never came back.”

“Or maybe,” he hefted a lazy shoulder, “the ghosts like it.”

“Ghosts?”

Now he had to resist the urge to chuckle at her startled reaction. “It is a ghost town.”

“Yeah, but no one said anything about real ghosts.” Turning slowly, she took in the whole space with such intensity that he wondered if she thought he was serious. “Ghosts.” With a quick bob of her head, she huffed out a deep breath and shifted to face him. “Okay let’s see the rest of it.”

Carefully following her, Quinn took his time, stopping when she stopped, leaning over for a closer look at anything that interested her. When she walked into a third room with an intact bedroom suite, including an old armoire and vanity set, she almost lost her breath.

Stopping at the dresser, Quinn opened one of the drawers. “Well crafted. You don’t see furniture like this anymore. No nails. Dove tails fit together perfectly. Fascinating.”

“There’s a lot to do, isn’t there?”

Quinn nodded. “First and foremost, we have to carve out a couple of bathrooms. You’ll want more than an armoire for closets, so most of these walls will have to be taken down and moved.”

“Bathrooms would be nice.” She flashed a toothy grin at him. “And closets would be appreciated too, but I want to keep the Monarch and the Hoosier. They deserve to be part of the new space.”

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