Unlike in Charlotte, the clerk’s office had been a quick and easy trip. Liz took the paperwork in and was back in her vehicle with the stamped paperwork in less than twenty minutes.
Her hands shook as the reality of all of this sank in. I did it. I really did it. She looked to the heavens with a clear image of her grandparents in mind. “Every day I work on this project, every day I spend here in Antler Creek is for you. Thank you for all of the wonderful memories. I’m going to bring Angel’s Rest back to life and share special moments with others just like you did.” This is what I’m meant to do.
Overcome by emotion, she took a tissue from her purse. Like none she’d ever experienced before, these were truly tears of joy.
The right things are coming together.
But amid the buoyance of the joy she wondered again why she hesitated to jump on Matt’s bid. It was more than fair. He’d proven to be a nice and decent guy, and his house proved he had the skill.
Is Maizey right? Have I become somehow so desensitized to bad behavior that I can’t even recognize a nice guy right in front of me?
“Pop,” she whispered to the universe. “What am I supposed to do? I wish you were here. You’d remember him. You’d guide me.”
A small fluffy white feather drifted down from the tree above. She leaned forward and looked up. A chunky Carolina wren puffed and whistled up a storm, flipping his feathers and chattering at a squirrel busy among the pine needles below.
She got out and picked up the feather from the ground.
“Thanks for the reminder,” she said to the bird, who continued to chirp, ignoring her completely, but who had certainly gifted her a feather.
She wasn’t going to second-guess Matt or that very attractive bid another minute.
Liz pulled out her phone and brought up the RFP from Matt. She quickly typed a note accepting his bid and asking when they could get together to talk specifics.
The sooner she could start filling in dates to get the first things taken care of, the sooner the real work could begin.
She drove up to the house. Already she was getting more comfortable with the drive up the mountain.
The driveway hadn’t eluded her this time either.
She got out and stood in the driveway. Looking at the house as the owner gave her a wonderful sense of pride. The lockbox was gone. She was the only one with a key now. It’s mine.
She got back in her SUV and took the road that cut back on the mountain—the one they’d taken to Matt’s—then followed Underpass Road back down to Main Street.
She saw the town through a whole new lens now.
The parking lot of the church was empty, but as she drove by she noticed they’d hung wreaths and greenery along the front. It looked festive and inviting. Wood was stacked at the edge of the building. She wondered if they were building a live nativity manger. That would be neat. She looked forward to coming back for Sunday service, then meeting and mingling with new neighbors.
Up the block, the hardware store was bustling with customers. Rather than taking the right to turn back on 801 toward the Creekside Café and head for home, she went straight. Ahead a flashing neon sign alongside a towering colorful metal rooster that had to be over seven feet tall with a sign hanging from his beak that read ANTIQUES just barely blocked her view of a red tractor with Santa in the driver’s seat waving in visitors to Memory Lane Antiques and Crafts.
Liz remembered Maizey mentioning this place being a couple of blocks behind the café. She wouldn’t mind stumbling into a few decorating ideas today. She parked next to the giant rooster and walked inside. A set of horse bells on a leather strap slapped against the door with a jingle.
The scent of cinnamon wafted through the air from a booth near the door filled with handmade brooms and bags of scented pinecones with pretty holiday bows.
“Welcome.” A voice came from across the way where a bony wrist waved in the air.
“Thank you.” Liz moved forward, trying to take in the vast space. Aisles, both left and right, of twelve-by-twelve cubbies were filled with handcrafted and artisanal goods. A few antiques were peppered in between, too.
“You looking for anything in particular today?”
“Not really.” Liz wasn’t entirely sure with whom she was even speaking at the other end of the bony arm. “Maybe a few good antique pieces.”
“We’ve got plenty of that. Most of these front booths are the crafters. They are always coming in and out.” A tall lanky white-haired woman came out from around the corner. “The big stuff is in the back, closer to the loading dock. Make yourself at home. Holler if you need any help.”
“Thank you. I will.” Liz meandered through a couple of the crafting booths. There was beautiful horsehair pottery, and there were hand-painted Christmas ornaments.
She stopped and folded back a stack of a dozen quilts. Most of them were hand-stitched too. Jacob’s Ladder. Log Cabin. House Block. Bear Paw. Gram had quilted and crocheted too. She wished now that she’d learned from Gram, but Liz had always preferred to spend her time outdoors with Pop. What she wouldn’t do to still have one of the quilts Gram had made for her over the years. There wasn’t anything more snuggly than a crocheted afghan on the couch in the winter, but a quilt on the bed was a must year-round. She turned back two more quilts, admiring the handiwork, and then there it was.
In blue and white, the soft worn quilt looked just like the one that had been in her room when she was a little girl. The Counting Stars pattern in varying shades of blue and silvery gray. Maybe that gray had once been blue too. A tag was safety-pinned to the corner. King-size.
Liz folded it over her arm. It was highly unlikely to be the same quilt, but it had already jogged good memories and you couldn’t put a price on that. This was going home with her. It might be a long while before the inn was ready, but this made it official. She had a starter kit and, with it, the color palette for one bedroom.
The last quilt in the pile was a used Double Wedding Ring quilt. Age-worn reds, blues, and lavenders. One day she’d have a quilt like this one, and the right man to share it with. But not today.
She stacked all of the quilts back nicely and made her way to the rear of the store. She could spend two days in this place just wandering around.
As Liz cleared the last booth on the aisle, the warehouse opened up and furniture filled it.
The first thing that caught her eye was an armoire.
The tall piece was wide enough to act as a closet, and wouldn’t that be perfect for Angel’s Rest? She turned the tag over. An 1880 Victorian Walnut Armoire. Someone had taken loving care of it. The wood was in good shape, barely a scuff on it. Large mirrored beveled glass doors on each side opened to a full-length hanging clothes space. The glass was original too. In the middle, a single carved door gave the piece an aristocratic flare over four simple graduated drawers below.
It would be perfect in a guest room. Guests could surely unpack everything they’d need to stay for a week. She was tempted to at least put the piece on hold. It would also allow her to not add a closet to that room, using this piece instead to give it a roomier feeling.
Her phone rang, and she answered it on the first ring out of sheer habit. “Hello?”
“Hi, Liz. It’s Matt Hardy.”
Surprised to hear his voice, she sat down in the solid pine rocker. “You got my email?”
“I did. I was glad to hear from you. I know you’re anxious to get started. What’s your schedule look like?”
He had a deep, soothing voice, like someone you might hear on the radio. She tried to shift her focus from the sound of his voice to what he’d said. “I was just shopping. At the antique shop. I got the deed transferred today and then stopped in here. I was actually just leaving.” Why am I rambling? Shut up.
“Great. That was fast. I could meet now. I mean, I know it’s last minute, but if it’s convenient…”
“Yeah. No. I mean that would be great. I can meet you now.” She got up from the rocker, but was stepping on the edge of the quilt and tripped herself back into the chair. She gathered up the quilt, with the phone between her shoulder and chin, and stood. “Let me just pay for this and I’ll meet you.”
“We can meet at my place if you don’t mind. We’ll have plenty of room.”
She couldn’t very well meet him at Angel’s Rest. There wasn’t even any place to sit. “That works.”
“Do you remember how to get here?”
“I do.”
“I’ll see you when you get here then,” he said.
Liz practically skipped to the register, where the white-haired woman was already waiting on her. “Will this be all for you today?”
The woman wore an oval name tag that read FLOSSIE. Liz remembered Matt mentioning her. “Yes, this will be all today, but I’ll be back.” She pulled her wallet from her purse. “Someone said you might know where some of the furnishings from up at Angel’s Rest ended up.”
“Angel’s Rest.” Flossie spoke the words as if they were special. “Wonderful place. It’s been closed a long while now, but I know several of the pieces went to a family in Williamsburg, Virginia. They were decorating their home and had seen the estate sale advertised. Nice couple. She was pregnant.”
Liz’s heart sank.
“But the big pieces, they stayed nearby. I know the Goodwins bought two of the bedroom suites. They might still have them.”
Wouldn’t that be crazy, if some of her grandparents’ furniture was under the same roof? “I’ll have to ask them about it,” Liz said.
“I own the master suite,” Flossie said. “I had it in my house up until last summer. Then, when Ben died I didn’t need a big ol’ king-size bed anymore. He left a big ol’ empty spot in that bed. I missed him so much that I switched out to a queen that I had here in the store.” She clicked her fingers in the air. “In fact, that bedroom suite from Angel’s Rest is in the back room. We haven’t moved it out onto the floor yet.”
“Really?” She was dying to see it, but it wasn’t likely to be going anywhere anytime soon if it was still in the back room. “Could you leave it there for a week or so? I’m very interested in it, but I’m in a bit of a rush this morning.”
“Sure, honey. I’m in no hurry to move it. It’s a beautiful set. Very ornate. Why are you so interested in stuff from Angel’s Rest?”
“I just bought the place.”
“Really? You?” Flossie placed her finger on her lip. “You are Lindley and Josie’s granddaughter. I’d heard you bought the place. I’m so glad it didn’t go to some city dweller who would just tear it down, or darn near ruin the place like that gallery did.” Flossie pulled her lips together. “I’m sorry. I hope I wasn’t speaking out of turn. Have you seen the inside?”
“I have and I couldn’t agree with you more.”
“Don’t you worry about that bedroom suite,” Flossie said. “If you want it I will hang on to it as long as you need. I’d like nothing better than for it to be put back to good use at Angel’s Rest.”
“Really? That would be wonderful. Yes, please save it for me. Thank you, Flossie.”
“Consider it a welcome-home favor.” Flossie ran Liz’s credit card through the machine and handed it back.
Liz signed the receipt. “Thank you.” She bundled the quilt in her arms and tucked it in the backseat, anxious to sleep beneath those stars.