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THE DAYS BLENDED INTO each other, a continuous stream of hard, tedious work and progress. The whole time, I poured my heart and soul into the restoration of Gloriana Manor.
The first floor was nearing completion, a testament to the dedication of the skilled subcontractors who had become an integral part of this project. We were ahead of schedule. They were making me look good. I could tell they were all invested in this place.
The kitchen was coming along nicely. It was beautiful. Earlier renovations had expanded it beyond the original footprint but most of the cabinetry was original. It was stunning to think these cabinets had been around for over a hundred years.
I squatted down to get a view of the floors that I had spent hours and hours on. They were pristine. I couldn’t help but smile as I got to my feet and surveyed the work once again. I could see myself cooking a meal in this massive kitchen.
I could hear the stone masons working diligently outside, each chisel strike echoing through the halls as they breathed life back into the grand exterior.
Summer had arrived with a sizzling heatwave. I felt bad for the men working outside, but they assured me they were used to it. I was thrilled the HVAC team had shown up yesterday.
The ventilation system was another update that had been made in the eighties. Unfortunately, with no one living in the home for twenty years, things had gotten a bit rough. Duct work had to be replaced. The heating and AC units as well. I didn’t even want to think how much it cost to try and cool a place like this, but I was grateful it was up and running now.
I walked by one of the vents and let the air wash over me.
Fortunately, our grumpy boss had been gone all week. I had not seen him since the night he came home and sent me away. He was in New York City. He didn’t get to see the metamorphosis taking place in his old mansion. My only connection to him was through text, if I had an issue or needed approval to make a purchase.
I had sent him an update on the progress, along with some photos of the polished flooring and cleaned-up exterior.
“Looks good,” was all he replied.
It wasn’t exactly effusive praise, but then I didn’t expect much more from him. As long as he was satisfied with the work, that was all that mattered. He had never been one to gush over anything.
Today, I was looking forward to getting into the library to start on the built-in shelving. It was a carpenter’s dream. Thousands of books on shelves that reached the ceiling covered three sides of the room. It was one of the few rooms that didn’t have the benefit of a lot of natural light. It would have ruined the books if it had.
The library had been painted in a dark burgundy color, which worked, but Timothy wanted it brightened up a bit. I agreed. We were going with a warm honey color, a shade that would make the room feel cozy yet adequately lit. After all, a place that was the center of many, many ghost stories needed to be inviting.
The colossal fireplace with the aging mantel would provide all the heat the room needed. It was such an amazing room. If I lived here, I would spend a lot of my time in here. It was just so cozy.
As I slowly made my way around the towering shelves, my fingers trailing over the weathered spines of the books, I couldn’t help but imagine generations of Timothy’s family sitting in this room.
But I didn’t have time to daydream. I pulled the books off the lower shelves, neatly stacking them on one side of the room. I didn’t dare risk getting even a drop of stain on them while I worked on the shelves. To be extra careful, I was going to cover the stacks with plastic.
I mounted the sliding ladder, climbed up to grab a few books, and carried them back down. I cleared one shelf and then climbed a little higher to get the books off the next shelf.
It was hard to stay focused. Every time I pulled a book, I wanted to open it and search for old letters hidden within the pages or maybe some other treasure. Stack after stack, up and down the ladder I went, knowing my ass was getting one hell of a workout.
I was at the top shelf, balancing on the ladder as I took a few extra books off the shelf. I was getting tired of going up and down and was looking for a way to cut a few corners. I heard a noise and turned to look but I moved too quickly.
“Oh shit!”
The world shifted beneath me, and for a split second, the ground seemed to slip away. Panic gripped me, fingers scrambling for a hold on the ladder’s rungs with the books I’d been holding dropping to the floor. I reached to grab a rung with my free hand, but it was too late—I was falling.
Gravity was no longer my friend. Just when I thought I was going to suffer countless broken bones, I found myself cradled in Timothy’s embrace. I gasped at the contact.
He set me down gently. “You should be more careful,” he scolded.
“I was. I’ve been doing this for a while, and it’s been fine. Besides, you startled me. You shouldn’t go around sneaking up on people.”
“It’s my house. I don’t think it can be considered sneaking.”
“Well, you don’t have to be so territorial about it,” I muttered.
“Like I said, it’s my house.”
I took a deep breath, reminding myself it was his house, and if I wanted to keep working here, I needed to keep my temper in check.
“How was your trip to New York?” I asked, smoothing down my hair.
“Fine. The usual. I spent the week with my daughter.”
“How old is she?” I asked.
“Fifteen going on fifty,” he muttered.
“Did she go back to your ex-wife?” I asked.
“No. She’s in New York with Bennet. He’s keeping an eye on her. I should say both eyes.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I had been fifteen once. I knew I was a pain in the ass. I wanted to ask more questions, but I didn’t want to pry. I had a feeling it would make him shut down.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“I’d like to show you something in the back gardens.”
“Yeah, I’ll take care of this later.”
I followed him outside, the transition from the dimly lit library to the sunny outdoors momentarily blinding. As my eyes adjusted, Timothy gestured toward an old gazebo. I followed him to the structure that looked to be very old and in desperate need of repair.
“I’d like you to restore this,” he said. “Do you think you can or is a teardown?”
I walked around, inspecting the beams and testing the strength. “It’s solid, but I think a couple of the supports would need to be replaced to make it safe.”
“I’ll obviously pay the additional cost,” he said.
“I’ll work up a bid.”
He looked around the landscaping that was slowly being brought back to life. “I used to love coming here,” he said. “My grandparents lived here full time. I used to come and visit for the summer. I loved this place. I loved exploring the house and the gardens. I guess I’m being a little nostalgic. I’m trying to rebuild something that is long past its shelf life.”
I glanced back at the house and the overgrown gardens. Even though there was so much work to be done, it was not hard to see why Timothy loved it. The house was inviting. I liked that I was helping to restore a piece of history.
“I think if you can see the potential in this place, then it’s not past its shelf life. It’s beautiful. Yes, there is some nostalgia, but who cares? In this case, I think you’re restoring your family legacy.”
“I wish I would have taken the time to restore this place earlier. I feel bad I waited so long.”
“But you’re here now,” I said, sighing. “It’s not like it’s beyond hope. I’m guessing it would have been the same restoration process as it was ten years ago. It’s not like you lost anything. Gloriana Manor is something we’re all proud of.”
“Did you grow up in Sleepy Hollow?” he asked.
“I did,” I said, smiling. “Born and raised. A lot of the people I went to school with have left. They always ask me why I’m still here.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“My dad needed me,” I answered honestly. “It’s been just the two of us for a very long time. He tends to get a little too devoted to his work. He doesn’t always take care of himself. He’s the only family I have. He took care of me and now it’s my turn to take care of him.”
“That’s noble. I think this is a great place to grow up. I wanted to raise Paisley here, but my ex wasn’t fond of the small-town life.”
“She doesn’t know what she’s missing out on,” I said, laughing.
We started walking around the garden, going nowhere in particular as we talked about small-town living. He was actually decent to talk to for a change.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked softly.
“Sure.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Not anymore,” I muttered.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I just got out of a long-term relationship,” I told him.
“What happened?”
“Apparently, only one of us understood the meaning of monogamy. I got to witness his failure to be faithful with my own two eyes.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “Honestly, I feel bad that I’m not too upset. I probably should be crushed. Maybe I knew it was over long before it actually ended.”
He looked at me for a long moment, his eyes reflecting a soft understanding. “Sometimes, we know things in our hearts before we’re ready to admit them to ourselves. Trust me, I understand how you feel.”
It sounded like he knew what I was talking about. We fell into silence, strolling through the garden, each of us lost in our own thoughts. His ringing phone broke the comfortable quiet.
“I have to take this,” he said. “Get back to me with a bid for the gazebo.”
He walked away with the phone to his ear.
“I will,” I promised, watching him stride toward the manor.
Timothy’s voice faded away with distance as I turned back to the gazebo. The sun streamed through the missing slats in the roof, casting long shadows on the mossy floor. The worn wood creaked under my weight as I stepped up to examine the structure more closely. I imagined stolen kisses from young lovers sneaking out to meet without anyone knowing.
It was going to be my personal project. I wanted to restore it for Timothy.
