Page 8 of Love Takes A Tumble
"The door to her room was sticking," Harrison said, hearing the defensive note in his voice. "And that window latch was loose."
"And the bookshelf that needed leveling? The curtain rod that suddenly required tightening?"
Harrison stared into his coffee. "Keeping busy."
"Well, you've certainly been that." Jacob's tone softened. "She's good people, Harry. Reminds me a bit of Elise when she first arrived here. All plans and structure, trying to keep the world at arm's length."
Before Harrison could respond, Elise herself appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Are you two gossiping out here like a couple of old hens?"
"Just discussing our resident handyman's project list," Jacob replied, shooting Harrison a conspiratorial grin.
"Well, if you're looking for more work," Elise said, her eyes twinkling, "I'm sure Ms. Whitaker could use some help with her research. Something about lighthouse history?"
Harrison's heart gave a traitorous little leap. "Is that so?"
"Mmhmm. Though it seems to me we might need a handyman for more than just repairs around here." She exchanged a knowing look with Jacob. "Sometimes what really needs fixing isn't quite so obvious."
Harrison felt suddenly transparent, as if they could see right through him to the growing attachment he'd been trying to deny. To the way he found himself looking for Audrey each morning, inventing reasons to check on her, simply to hear her voice, to see the flash of humor behind her initial reserve.
"I'm not—" he began, then stopped, unsure how to finish that sentence honestly.
"Not what?" Jacob prompted, his voice gentle now. "Not staying? Not interested? Not ready?"
Harrison sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know."
Elise patted his arm. "Well, when you figure it out, she takes her coffee with a splash of cream. No sugar." With that, she headed back inside, Jacob following after one last knowing smile in Harrison's direction.
The morning had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the kind that made Harrison both restless and content. He sat on the porch, watching a pair of cardinals dart between the oak trees that lined the drive. His coffee had gone lukewarm, but he made no move to refresh it.
"Mind if I join you?"
Harrison looked up to find Miss Doris standing at the porch steps, a tray balanced in her hands containing a coffee carafe and what looked suspiciously like her famous blueberry muffins.
"Be my guest," he said, rising to help her with the tray.
"I can manage," she insisted, but allowed him to take it anyway. "Always have to be the helper, don't you?"
Harrison set the tray on the small table between the rocking chairs. "Force of habit."
"Mmm." Miss Doris settled into one of the chairs, the wicker creaking softly beneath her. She poured fresh coffee into his mug without asking if he wanted any. "Habits can be comforting. They can also be traps."
Harrison took the seat beside her, accepting the refreshed cup with a nod of thanks. "Speaking from experience?"
"Six decades of baking taught me a thing or two." She passed him a muffin on a napkin. "About bread, and about people."
The muffin was still warm, the berries bursting with sweetness when he took a bite. For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the gentle creak of their rocking chairs and distant waves.
"So," Miss Doris said finally, "how much longer are you planning to stay on our little island?"
Harrison hesitated. "Not sure. I was supposed to leave days ago."
"And yet here you are."
"Here I am," he agreed.
Miss Doris rocked slowly, her knowing eyes fixed on the garden. "Wouldn't have anything to do with our Ms. Whitaker, would it?"
He nearly choked on his coffee. "I'm just being neighborly."
