Page 54 of Of Heather and Thistle
Duncan continued, “As the sole heir, ye have a few choices. Ye can sell the estate outright—though it’d be worth more with renovations. Or ye can restore it, either to keep or to rent. There’s historical value, but that comes with its own set of rules.”
Heather swallowed. “Rules?”
“Aye.” He tapped one of the documents. “Because the house is a heritage property, there are preservation guidelines if ye choose to renovate. Ye’ll need approval for major structural changes, but there are grants and resources to help with restoration.”
She exhaled, trying to process it all. “And if I sell?”
Duncan exchanged a glance with Reid before answering. “To a developer? Maybe a private investor? Someone who might tear it down, is most likely.”
The words hit harder than she expected. “I see.”
Reid spoke up, voice gentler than Duncan’s. “It’s a lot to take in, lass. No need to rush a decision. But once ye sell, there’s no goin’ back.”
Heather tried to listen—tried to focus—but her chest felt tight. She glanced around the room again, her throat becoming unbearably tight.
The cracks in the ceiling. The sagging wallpaper. The weight of generations pressing down on her.
She needed to breathe.
Just breathe.
But it was crushing her, this place—this history that had waited for her, wrapped in silence.
Focus on the paperwork. Don’t think about the dust, the decay, the expectation.“I’ll need time to think.”
Duncan nodded, sliding the documents toward her. “Of course. Look it over, and when ye’re ready, we’ll discuss next steps.”
Mr. Reid replied, “If ye need anything else, dinnae hesitate to reach out.” His tone was gentle but businesslike.
Mr. Duncan nodded in agreement, his expression unreadable. “Aye, we’re here if ye need us.”
Reid exhaled, adjusting his coat. “It’s a lot to take in, lass. But there’s no rush.”
As the conversation wrapped up, Heather lingered by the door. Mr. Reid was about to step outside when Mr. Duncan spoke up from the corner of the room.
“If yer thinkin’ about restoring the place,” Duncan said, glancing at her with a thoughtful expression, “my son runs a business specializing in historic homes. Lad’s got a knack for it.”
Reid huffed, shaking his head. “Aye, and a stubborn streak.But he’s good at what he does.”
She barely absorbed the name Duncan mentioned, her thoughts still too tangled, but the idea of renovations suddenly felt a little less impossible.
As they stepped outside, Reid hesitated by the door. “If ye’d like, I can take ye back to yer accommodations? No point in wanderin’ about in the cold.”
She shook her head. “I think I’ll stay for a little while. I’d like to take a look around.”
Reid’s eyebrow quirked, but he nodded. “Very well. Just be careful.”
Heather offered a small smile. “I will. Thank you.”
She watched him step into the rain, mist curling around him as he hesitated—just for a moment—before glancing back. Something in his gaze made her pulse stutter, as if he could see the questions tangled in her mind. But he only nodded once and walked away, leaving her in the looming shadow of Glenoran House.
The night pressed in, thick with unanswered questions, but beneath her unease, something else stirred. Possibility. Whatever this was, it wasn’t over.
She stepped back inside.
One step at a time — for her mother, for herself… and for the history that refused to stay buried.
Chapter 13
