How do you paint an emotion? Something abstract and impossible to grasp? Think of something that represents that emotion: a man at a gravesite, a newborn baby, a bride holding her bouquet. When we see these things, we recognise them instantly: sorrow, hope, love.
Opening her front door, Noelle spotted the looming rain clouds, far enough away that she decided against an umbrella. Surely, she could walk the short distance to the church without being caught in a downpour. Under her long coat, she wore a dress with black lace overlaying a forest-green lining, her favorite dress she’d ever owned, bought in a small Bath boutique a couple of weeks ago. There, she’d also found the vintage black-pearl barrette that she wore in her hair, braided loosely and clasped at the nape of her neck.
Walking briskly, she reached the market center and noticed Joe, head-down in the middle of the street, fidgeting with the wardrobe bag in his hands. She called out his name.
Looking up, he smiled then whistled a catcall.
“Oh, stop. You’re getting married today.” She tapped his arm with her purse.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t tell a fellow villager how gorgeous she looks.”
“Why, thank you.” Eyeing his plain T-shirt, which held what appeared to be a jam stain near the collar, she replied, “And you look… not quite ready yet. But soon-to-be gorgeous.”
“I’m getting dressed at the church. There’s not much time left.”
“I need to hurry, too. I’m supposed to meet Mrs. Pickering and help her with something before the ceremony.” A familiar car pulled up behind them and stopped a few feet away. Adam, grinning inside his black convertible, top down.
“What are you doing here?” Noelle called out, taking the few steps to the driver’s side.
“I stayed overnight at my parents’ in Bath. Thought I’d surprise you.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“Wow. Look at you.” He stared at her hair then looked her up and down with a smile. “Nice dress. So, today’s the wedding?”
By now, Joe had stepped closer to greet him. “Adam, mate! Haven’t seen you ’round here in ages.”
“I had to take some time off from the project, catch up on work. Plus, the holidays and such.”
“Well, you’re just in time for a wedding. Join us,” Joe insisted. “Starts in half an hour!”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Nonsense. You’re part of the village now.”
Adam’s attention shifted back to Noelle. “Well, I do have a suit with me. The folks still make me dress up for dinners.” He smirked. “As long as you’re okay with it.”
“Of course I am!” But will Laurel be?
“Sorry to run, but I’m going to be late for my own wedding.” Joe took off for the church.
“So, I guess this means you’ll need some place to change,” Noelle told Adam. “The cottage?”
“Hop in.”
She eased into the black leather passenger seat. Adam followed the road, parking behind Noelle’s car outside the cottage. The moment he shifted into park, the skies opened, releasing coin-sized drops of rain.
Noelle shrieked and scrambled to get out of the car, hunching into her coat, raising the collar above her head as far as it would go. “My hair!”
“You go—I’ll put the top up!” Adam yelled as she rushed through the gate and up to the cottage.
Inside, she peered into the hallway mirror. The rain hadn’t completely ruined her hair. It would only need a quick touch-up. She had kept the front door open for Adam and watched through a sheet of rain as the top of his car clicked shut. Adam darted inside, his wardrobe bag draped over his arm.
For some reason, the sight of Adam utterly soaked and out of breath, his dark wet curls sticking to his face, struck her as hilarious. She tried to cover her mouth, turn her head away, but she couldn’t stop herself. “You’re a drowned rat,” she said.
“Thanks a lot! I’m a freezing drowned rat.” He started to unbutton his shirt. “Can you do something with this? It’s soaked. I’ve got an extra shirt in my wardrobe bag I can put on for the wedding.”
“Sure. I’ll stick this one in the dryer.” He peeled off the shirt, revealing wet chest hair. A flash of Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice invaded her thoughts. She blinked to remove the image. She didn’t have time to daydream. They could not be late for the wedding.
She took the sopping-wet shirt, careful not to hold it too close to her dress, and tossed it into the dryer. She grabbed a fluffy clean towel from a basket and returned to Adam. “Come with me. I have a plan.”
He rubbed at his hair with the towel and carried his bag up the staircase. Mr. Darcy padded up after them.
Noelle pointed to the guest room. “You have ten minutes. There’s a hair dryer in that bathroom. Do you have everything else you need?”
“My jacket might be a bit wrinkled.”
“Here. Let me have it.” He unzipped the bag and pulled out the jacket. “You go dry your hair and get warm. I’ll iron this. And hurry up! We cannot be late!”
“Yes ma’am!” He closed the door behind him.
In her bedroom, Noelle plugged in the iron and set up the board, laying the jacket across it. While she waited for the iron to warm up, she hurried to check her hair in the mirror, finger-combing stray strands. She added more gloss to her lips and a quick dab of powder to her nose. Through the wall, Adam’s blow dryer hummed.
Five minutes later, she finished ironing the jacket sleeve and saw Adam standing in the doorway. With his hair still curled slightly from the moisture, and at that distance, he looked seventeen all over again. He reached up to fasten the top button of his shirt, and she noticed it again. That tuft of chest hair peeking out at her.
“Noelle?”
“Huh?”
He nodded toward the iron.
“Oh!” She’d held it in place too long. Steam rose when she lifted it up, but she’d done no damage. She held up the jacket for his inspection.
“Brilliant.”
She turned off the iron and grabbed her coat again. “C’mon. We’re barely going to make it!”
They took Noelle’s car, since Adam’s interior was still damp with rain. At the church, she pulled into the last spot with four minutes to spare, the rain having slowed to a puny drizzle.
Noelle hadn’t stepped inside the church since yesterday, and she marveled at the lovely job Mrs. Wickham had done with the flowers. Red roses adorned the front of the church, with tall, white candles lit throughout. Beautiful.
Noelle and Adam found two of the last seats at the back of the church, on Joe’s side, and settled into the pew. A minute later, Lizzie appeared, wearing an angelic white lace dress and holding white roses. Of the fifteen or so weddings Noelle had attended in her lifetime—cousins, college friends, co-workers, even her own parents as they married other people—Joe’s seemed the most genuine. Maybe because of the candlelight or the gleam of tears in Lizzie’s eyes, but something made the atmosphere in the church tangibly romantic. The lightheaded, contagious zing of excitement that emanated from two people deeply in love.
During the vows, a bizarre, out-of-place sensation struck Noelle. Less than four months ago, she hadn’t even known where Adam lived or what he had done with his life. He really only existed deep in her memory. But today, he sat beside her, inches away. The faint rhythm of his breath, the tapping of his leg beside hers, clearly not a figment of her imagination.
After a musical rendition of “The Lord’s Prayer” by the vicar’s wife, Rachel, the vicar introduced for the first time, “Mr. and Mrs. Joe and Lizzie Tupman!” The couple kissed amidst boisterous cheers and strolled down the aisle arm-in-arm.
After the ceremony, the crowd sifted through the back door to move, en masse, out of the church and toward the pub for the reception. During the procession, no less than four women had stopped Noelle, asking her to introduce her “handsome date.” Each time, she responded, “This is Adam Spencer. An old friend of mine. And the architect for the school renovations.” Each time, the inquirer pursed her lips and said, “Ooh, nice to meeeet you,” as she shook his hand and looked him up and down. His half-smile told Noelle all the attention amused him.
The moment they entered the pub, Mrs. Pickering whisked Noelle away from Adam and assigned her cake-cutting duties at a table in the back corner. She could hardly say no to Mrs. Pickering, especially since she’d been a no-show right before the wedding, and hoped Adam could fend for himself. Occasionally, between dispensing slices of white cake, Noelle caught Adam across the bar laughing or nodding along with someone. He spent most of his time with the vicar, likely catching up about the project. They even took off for a while, still chatting away, probably going on-site to discuss the plans.
“Lass, you look lovely.” Mac stood before her, hands in pockets, dressed in a starched white shirt and dark slacks.
“Aww, thank you, Mac.” Noelle handed him a plate and fork. “And look at you! All dressed up. Did you enjoy the wedding?”
“Aye. ’Twas what any wedding should be. Short and sweet.”
“Did you get to meet Adam yet?”
“Adam?”
“Yes.” She gave the same old speech. “He’s an old friend. And the architect who’s working on the school renovations. Oh, here he comes. Let me introduce you.”
Adam approached the table with that infectious smile of his. He had charmed the entire village already. It was Mac’s turn. Noelle made the introductions, and they exchanged a firm handshake. Mac gave his best attempt at a smile, but Noelle thought she read a suspicious look in his eye as he met Adam’s gaze. Maybe Mac was just being protective. In the short months she had known him, Noelle discovered that only part of his duties were of the gardening variety. Mac watched over not only the gardens but also the cottage, as well as the occupant inside, much as he had probably done with Aunt Joy. A sort of dedicated watchdog, prowling and protective. In a sense, he was sniffing out Adam while shaking his hand.
Mac gave a gentleman’s nod to Noelle. “I’d better be off. Stayed too long as it is.”
Noelle waved goodbye then lifted a plate and fork up to Adam. “You haven’t had any cake.”
“Neither have you, I’ll bet.”
“True.” The coast finally clear and everyone served, Noelle selected a piece and joined him on the other side of the table near the fireside. “Mmm. So good. I’ve been smelling it for an hour,” she said with her first bite. Dense white cake layered with rich cream cheese frosting. “Heaven.”
They watched from their little isolated corner as the traditions began. Joe, bent on one knee, reached around his new wife’s leg for the garter. A crowd had gathered, and the bachelors of the group stood in a huddle, prepared for Joe to fling the garter. Thankfully, Noelle had already missed the bride throwing her bouquet, always her least favorite part of a wedding.
“Oh, I think that’s my cue.” Noelle put down her plate and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “C’mere.” She grabbed Adam’s sleeve and led him to a table with two baskets, each piled high with tiny bundles. Noelle placed her hands around the rim of one basket and said proudly, “I made these.” She picked up a bag and displayed it in the palm of her hand like Vanna White showing off her letters.
“Impressive. What the hell is it?”
Noelle faked offense and batted the bag at his chest. “Birdseed, dummy. To throw at the bride and groom as they leave. Not the whole bag—the seeds inside the bag.”
“Ah. I knew that.”
“Help me pass them out?”
“Sure.”
She gave him one of the baskets, and they waited for the guests to start lining up to receive the bags. In a matter of minutes, the bags were handed out and opened, the birdseed sprinkled at the bride and groom as they ducked and ran past the wedding guests. When Noelle wasn’t looking, Adam showered her with a palm-full of birdseed.
“Adam!” She feigned irritation and waited a beat before returning the favor.
“Ow!” He put a hand up to his eye.
Noelle’s smile disappeared. “Oh, no. Did I really get your eye?” She reached her hand up to his face.
“Gotcha!” he said, grabbing her wrist.
“You wanker,” she whispered, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. They had drawn unwanted attention. Mrs. Pickering had stopped to stare, which meant others would likely follow. Adam released her wrist, and Noelle cleared her throat and started to collect empty bags.
Once the happy couple had driven away, streamers and shoes attached to the trunk of their car, Noelle and Adam walked back inside to help with the cleanup, but Mrs. Forsythe stopped them.
“Oh, no, Noelle. You’ve helped enough today. And yesterday as well! My goodness, take the rest of the day off, you two. Go enjoy yourselves.”
Noelle wished Mrs. Forsythe hadn’t been so transparent, that little nudge-nudge, wink-wink as she included Adam in her command. Knowing that protesting would only egg her on more, Noelle said, “Thanks. We will.” She grabbed her purse and coat, then she and Adam headed back outdoors, where the clouds had disbanded in at least one broad corner of the sky.
On their brief drive to the cottage, Adam spotted the gallery. “I had a chat with your curator at the reception. Fred?”
“Frank.”
“He says you’re painting again. Is that right?”
“Guilty as charged. I’m also taking an art class. In London. Are you impressed?”
“Terribly. And glad for you. I think it’s important for a person to keep up with their talents.”
“You think I have talent?”
“You know I do.”
Back at the cottage, Mr. Darcy emerged from his usual sleeping spot and followed them upstairs. Noelle’s updo was giving her a headache, so she unclasped her hair and combed it out with her fingers. The braid had created relaxed, airy waves in her usually straight hair.
“Is that the room? Where you found all those paintings?” Adam pointed across the hall.
“That’s the one.”
“Mind if I peek?”
“Sure. Not much in there at the moment.” Of course, she meant in the way of Aunt Joy’s things. But the minute Noelle said the words, she remembered something else in that room, one of her own paintings-in-progress, not ready for public viewing yet. Too late now, though.
She led him to the door and cracked it open. He walked in, skimming the entire room then moving closer to the canvas on the easel.
“That’s Joy’s. Her last piece,” Noelle confirmed before Adam could ask.
“Rather haunting, isn’t it?”
“It’s probably worth something, but I couldn’t bear to part with it. I always wonder if she knew… whether it might be her last.”
Noelle’s own half-finished canvas, a church with a cemetery beside it, lay propped against the wall. “This one’s great.” He inched closer to it. “Yours?”
She nodded, her nerves rising as he squinted.
“I see some of your aunt’s techniques here. The little detail of the cross up top, the shadow beside it.” He pointed to the church’s steeple. “It’s very good.”
“Thanks.” Relief. Empty flattery wasn’t Adam’s style. “Oh,” she said, “I nearly forgot. I want to show you something else. I discovered it last night.”
“Another find?”
He followed her to the master bedroom, where she opened the nightstand drawer to produce the ring box. As with the journal, she planned to tell only Adam about the ring, no one else. Noelle wasn’t comfortable sharing either treasure with the world.
He reached for the box she offered and cracked it open.
“I found it in that same secret compartment, in the side of the desk.” She pointed to it. “Deep inside, which is why I missed it the first time.”
He inspected the ring, brought it closer. “The symbol. There it is. I wonder who gave this to her. Are you going to tell anyone, share the news?”
“You’re the only one who knows about it. I’ll keep it for myself as an heirloom.”
“Really fascinating. Wish we could figure out that blasted symbol. The answer is probably right under our noses.”
Adam returned the ring to the box then handed it back to her. He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels, producing the first pause between them all afternoon. She didn’t know what to do with it.
“Well,” she said, closing the drawer. “My shoes are killing me. And I’m tired of being in this dress. I think I’ll change.”
“Yes. And I need to go dry out the rest of my car.”
“Take anything you need—paper towels, cloth towels. And your other shirt is dry by now. I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit.”
He shut the door softly behind him, and she shook off her heels, one at a time, hoping that in trying to fill the awkward pause, she hadn’t shooed him away too urgently.
Minutes later, changed into a sweater and jeans, Noelle walked downstairs to find Adam. She’d half-expected to see the wardrobe bag draped over his arm as he stood at the front door, ready to leave for London. But he stood in her kitchen, leaning against the counter and waiting for the kettle to boil. In no hurry at all, apparently.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much. How’s your car?”
“Beyond help at the moment,” he said with a grimace. “Still quite damp. I did all I could do then left the top down to air it out. Thank God the rain stopped. Oh, and I put the towels into the wash already.”
She offered him a selection from the basket of tea bags on the table. He thumbed through them and chose Earl Grey as the kettle whistled sharply. Noelle found two matching floral-patterned mugs, and Adam poured the water. “Let’s go in here,” she suggested, and they carried their mugs into the sitting room.
As if reading her mind, Adam added two logs to the fireplace and lit a fire, then sat opposite her in a chair. Mr. Darcy sprung up into Adam’s lap and startled him. He let Mr. Darcy turn and hunch down into a furry ball, then he reached for his tea, laying his other hand on the cat’s back.
“Aww. I need my camera,” Noelle said.
“Don’t you dare.” He smiled.
“So, you were quite popular at the reception. I kept watching you being pulled aside by different people.”
“It’s a friendly village.”
“Too friendly, sometimes. Mrs. Pickering probably filled your head with all sorts of gossip. Most of it untrue.”
“The vicar and I caught up. A sort of impromptu meeting. We needed it, especially after the long holiday.” He took another sip.
“I’m sure he was glad to have you back. How’s the project coming?”
“Good. I kept working on it from home sporadically, so we aren’t really behind. But I had to catch up on the firm’s work. It’s my bread and butter. Speaking of, Michael mentioned that the school received a pledge for a large donation, thanks to an ‘anonymous donor.’” He stared at her, one eyebrow raised. “Perhaps from a certain someone who will shortly be coming into some major cash at a Sotheby’s art auction?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said with a sly tone.
“Hey, between the two of us, we’ll get this school back on its feet in no time.”
All this time, Adam hadn’t yet mentioned leaving for London. Noelle took a chance. “Are you hungry for some dinner? I only had a little cake at the wedding. I’m starved.”
“Sure. I’ll help.”
Noelle had already planned to make a simple cottage pie tonight, alone. But the thought of having someone else to share the meal with filled her with instant joy. As much as she’d gotten used to being alone, eating alone, she sometimes missed the presence of another person in the house.
She retrieved the ingredients from the refrigerator and the cabinets then found the proper pans and bowls. She knew the recipe by heart. Adam stepped in beside her at the table, watching her arrange the items, waiting to be instructed.
“How about the mashed potato part?” she suggested.
“Okay. I’m good at that.” Adam gathered the potatoes and began washing and peeling them while Noelle chopped the carrots and onions. For several minutes, they worked together in a quiet rhythm. Occasionally, their arms brushed against each other as he chopped a potato or she reached for another onion. Noelle wondered if he ever cooked with Laurel. Then she wondered what Laurel might think, knowing Adam had attended a wedding today with Noelle and had lingered at her cottage. She should feel guilty, but she was having too much fun. Besides, it wasn’t as if they’d planned all this. And if his fiancée’s reaction concerned him that much, he would have called her before now.
Adam dumped the quarter slices of potatoes into the saucepan then added water and set it on top of the burner. Noelle had already placed her chopped vegetables into her fry pan, along with the ground beef, some herbs, and tomato sauce. The spicy aroma of the sizzling mixture filled the kitchen.
“Mmm… if I wasn’t hungry earlier, I am now,” Adam said.
They worked together to create the pie. Noelle carefully poured out her mixture while Adam spooned out his mashed potatoes for the second layer. Noelle sprinkled some grated cheese on top, with salt and pepper, and placed the dish into the Aga.
“Do you cook a lot?” Adam asked.
“Not really. I go to the pub a couple days a week, I guess. And do take-out at least once a week. How about you?”
“Lots of take-away or restaurants, usually. I hardly ever eat a meal at home. Or sometimes I’ll work till late in the evening and eat at the office.”
“That was me, back in San Diego. Always working.”
“Yeah. I can relate. If I let myself, I can work seven days a week without a break. I have to make myself stop, remind myself it’s okay to sleep sometimes. But I love it.”
“You loved it as a teenager. Architecture, I mean. When you took me on my first tour of Bath, we were what, fifteen? You knew the history of the buildings and all the architectural details. I can’t look at a cathedral as ‘just’ a cathedral anymore. I see the arches and the spires and the lancet windows.”
“Good memory!” He chomped on an uncooked carrot. “I always thought I was boring you.”
“You could never bore me.”
The corners of his mouth curled up as he chewed, and Noelle’s pulse beat faster. That smile…
The timer on the Aga buzzed, and Noelle stooped over to look at their creation.
“Here, let me.” Adam slid his hands into two oven mitts and pulled the golden pie from the oven.
Sitting at the kitchen table, savoring all the flavors in the meal, they continued chatting about the project, the gallery, and the quirky people that made up the village. “They’d make for some great characters in a TV show, wouldn’t they?” Adam smirked.
“Definitely. Feels like I’m in Ballykissangel or something.”
Halfway through the meal, the hall clock chimed, and Adam put his fork down with a clink. “Bollocks. It’s six o’clock? I didn’t realize. Sorry. I need to check my messages. I shut off my phone during the wedding and forgot to turn it back on.” He reached in his pocket and checked the cell’s screen. He winced. “Four messages.”
“Go ahead, check ’em. The food can wait.”
For privacy, he walked to the sitting room. Noelle imagined all four messages were from Laurel, each growing sterner, wondering where he might be.
A minute later, he spoke into the phone, just scattered phrases. His tone sounded almost too matter-of-fact, as if he was trying to make his excuse too ordinary. “Stopped off… see an old mate…”
When he returned, Noelle pretended to be absorbed in her meal. Adam’s shoulders drooped slightly. She assumed he often looked that way after speaking to Laurel. Especially if she often chewed him out.
“I need to head out. Sorry to be so hasty. I wanted to help with the cleanup.”
“It’s fine. No worries.” Noelle walked him to the door.
He gathered his bag, fished his keys out of his pocket, and gave an apologetic grin. “Thanks for dinner. And for a great afternoon. I hope you didn’t mind my dropping in, crashing the wedding.”
“Didn’t mind at all. And looks like you’ll have good driving weather now.” She cracked the door open and confirmed a dark, cloudless sky.
“Yeah. My interior should be dry by now, too.”
He hesitated. The slight wince, almost regretful, told her this wasn’t the way he wanted the visit to end, so abruptly. He gave a little wave with the flick of his hand, and walked down the stone path to his car.
Palpable, the immediate stillness in the house when she closed the door. For an entire afternoon, Adam had unexpectedly brought her companionship and laughter. And as suddenly as it came, it disappeared.