Chapter 5

 

Nearly all of the furniture had been claimed. Phoebe couldn’t even recall which buyer had just purchased Mrs. Austin’s buffet cupboard. After today, the rooms of Baywood House would be as bare as they’d been when the mansion was first built.

Phoebe’s heartbeat spiked again as it had over and over since the auction had begun. Inside her gloves, her palms felt clammy. Her mother sat beside her, a picture of calm. At the front of the ballroom, James was seated in a stiff-back chair, his demeanor growing more and more sorrowful as his family’s furnishings were sold off one by one.

“Only a few pieces of furniture left, which means we’re almost to the house,” her mother murmured in her ear, squeezing her hand.

Phoebe nodded stiffly as her gaze strayed to James again. Before drifting off to sleep last night, she’d thought more about their kiss, the hopeful look in his green eyes as he’d told her about his plan to buy a farm, and his question that day in the attic. Did he mean as much to her as Baywood? Frustration and confusion pinched her anew as she considered the inquiry again. How did she really feel about James?

Ignoring the auctioneer’s cries, she focused her attention on all she and James had shared the last month. She’d thoroughly loved spending time with him and coming to know him as a friend, and then something more. From that moment fluffing pillows, she’d felt a pull, a connection, between them. He was a man of loyalty, integrity, and kindness. His face was the one she couldn’t wait to see each morning and the one she pictured each night. She loved knowing his thoughts and sharing her own, loved teasing and laughing with him, loved how he appreciated and encouraged her independence.

In short, she’d been falling in love with him for weeks now. But in this moment, she knew what her heart had been trying to tell her since their kiss. I love him. I love James.

She couldn’t imagine living in Baywood House without him. Her memories of this place would always be magical, but what made this place so wonderful was James. The mansion would never embrace her, or tease her, or watch her in adoration. It was merely a beautiful façade, especially now that it was bereft of all its furnishings.

Perhaps, like James and his farm, it was time for her dreams to change and evolve.

“Who will start the bidding on this magnificent gentleman’s chair?” the auctioneer drawled. “Genuine leather, folks, and years of life still left in it.”

Phoebe saw James flinch. He’d mentioned to her that this was his father’s favorite chair. A new idea bolted through her mind like a comet. A way to show James that what, and more importantly whom, meant the most to her was him.

The auctioneer threw out an opening bid and Phoebe immediately raised her number card in the air. James reared back a bit, his expression puzzled.

“What are you doing?” her mother whispered. Phoebe had already explained to her that she wouldn’t be acquiring any of the furniture in order to put more money into her bid on the house.

Phoebe kept her voice low as she answered, “Something I should have thought to do much sooner.” Her mother didn’t question her; she simply clasped Phoebe’s hand again in a show of understanding.

Gratitude and love filled her. Looping her arm through her mother’s, Phoebe kept a vigilant focus on the bid for the armchair. In the end the auctioneer pronounced it hers. She smiled at James, who tentatively returned the gesture, though he still looked unsure.

When the last of the furnishings had been sold, the auctioneer announced it was time to bid for Baywood House itself. James visibly cringed before his countenance settled back into steely resolve. The opening bid was named, lower than Phoebe had anticipated. But it no longer mattered.

Seated up front, she couldn’t see those bidding behind her, but the price began to creep higher. She met James’s gaze and watched him tip his head toward the auctioneer. His silent question was obvious—wasn’t she going to bid? Phoebe gripped her number card tightly between her gloved hands. She could feel them trembling, but she didn’t know if it was from lack of courage or the presence of it. Everything inside her whispered she was doing the right thing.

Margaret tensed beside her, though she didn’t urge Phoebe to bid. Her silent trust bolstered Phoebe. She could do this. The bidding price rose up and up until finally reaching a sum far beyond what she could’ve afforded. A few minutes later the auctioneer declared the winner of the bid and the new owner of Baywood House.

Phoebe exhaled a long breath—it was over. The other buyers rose from their seats, their conversations rising and falling like ocean waves inside the vast room. Setting aside her number card, she stood, eager to speak with James.

“You didn’t bid,” her mother said, lovingly regarding Phoebe.

She watched James shake hands with the auctioneer. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

“Is that because you’ve possessed the most precious thing inside Baywood House for some time now?”

Phoebe glanced down at her mother, wondering what she meant. “What would that be?”

Margaret smiled. “His heart.”

Bending down, Phoebe gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for understanding, Mother. And I promise we’ll get a house soon.”

“I can afford my own small place, my dear, if that’s necessary.” Her gaze went to James. “And something tells me it might be. Now go on.”

Her heart thumping chaotically, Phoebe went to stand calmly beside the only thing she’d purchased today—the armchair. James caught her eye and slowly approached. Would he forgive her for taking so long to understand her heart? She hoped and prayed so.

“You didn’t bid on the house.” There was no mistaking the confusion in his tone.

“No. But I did win this wonderful chair.” She rested her hand along the leather back. “It’s a gift for someone I know. Someone very special.” Her voice caught and she hurried to swallow. “He’s come to mean the world to me, far more than any house here or anywhere else.”

James studied her for a long moment. “Any house?” he said as he placed his hands over hers. Phoebe linked her fingers with his. “Even Baywood House?”

“Yes, James. Even Baywood House.”

A hopeful glint lit his green eyes. Throwing a glance at the buyers still milling about the room, he led her by the hand out through the ballroom’s French doors. He didn’t cease walking until they reached the canopy of trees outside. Then he stopped her beside one glowing with golden leaves. “Thank you for buying my father’s chair.” He brushed his knuckle against her cheek, renewing the swift thrumming of her pulse.

“I knew what it meant to you.”

“Why did you change your mind, Phoebe? Why didn’t you bid on the house?”

She glanced at the mansion, suddenly afraid he might have already changed his mind about her. “You asked me the other day which was more important, you or this house.” Licking her dry lips, she pulled in a breath for courage. “Sitting there during the auction, I realized Baywood House is only a place that holds wonderful memories, if you aren’t here to make new ones with me.”

Looking at him again, she bravely continued. “I love you, James Austin. With all of my heart. You mean far more to me than a hundred mansions.”

A slow grin brightened his face. “How do you feel about living on a farm now?”

Phoebe squeezed his hand as joyful tears pricked her eyes. He still loved her. “I find the idea far more appealing today than yesterday. If that’s where you’ll be, James, then I want to be there too.”

His gaze intensified along with his smile, filling her stomach with flurries of anticipation. “In that case, will you be my wife, Phoebe Hill? I’ll have only a humble farm to offer. But it will be ours, a place to make a life together.”

Winding her arms around his neck, she drew close, feeling as bright as the leaves swaying above their heads. “I would be honored to be your wife, James.” She offered him an impish smile. “You can milk the cows while I fluff the pillows.”

He grinned. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”

“I can,” she said teasingly, bringing her mouth near his.

Understanding lit his green eyes right before he indulged her with a long kiss. Phoebe kissed him back—soundly, firmly, and with all the love in her heart. She’d come to Newport to purchase Baywood House, but God had other plans for her and James. And she couldn’t think of anything more magical than that.

 

• • •

 

Five years later

 

Phoebe jostled little James against her hip and smiled encouragement at her husband. Their little family, along with her mother, stood facing the small white house. The wind from the ocean whipped the ribbons of Phoebe’s hat and scattered colored leaves across the expansive lawn.

“I christen this house Woodbay Cottage,” James said in a commanding voice, his hand gripping the smaller one of their daughter, Maggie. “May you reside here through storm and calm for generations to come.”

“Hear! Hear!” Margaret Hill clapped her hands. They’d picked her up in the family motorcar, with Phoebe at the wheel, and drove her from her modest house in town to their new seaside cottage. James’s mother would also want the details of the informal ceremony in Phoebe’s next letter, especially since she, her husband, and children would be coming to stay with James and Phoebe next summer.

Mrs. Austin had been reticent about her son’s marriage and his plans to stay in America as a gentleman farmer. But time, and plenty of letters back and forth across the ocean, had soothed and overcome her hesitation.

Phoebe stepped forward and kissed James’s cheek. “A beautiful speech.”

“Will we get to live here next summer, Daddy?” Maggie asked, tugging on his pant leg.

James tousled her dark locks. “All summer, Mags. Just as your mother and I did a long time ago.” He exchanged a tender glance with Phoebe.

Setting their son on his feet, she watched as he toddled after his sister and grandmother, who took his hand in hers. Then Phoebe turned to face the little house. “It’s a wonderful cottage, James.”

“It’s no Baywood,” he said in a playful tone. The cottage and the mansion were situated only a few miles apart, and Phoebe still liked to walk past it every chance she got. James put his arm around her waist and pulled her snuggly to his side. She would never regret choosing him over the grand house.

“This cottage is something better. Because it’s ours to make new memories in.”

“Like the farm,” he added, pressing a kiss to her brow.

“Yes.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, relishing the happiness of the moment and the love she shared with him. “You’re here with me, James, and I’m here with you. And there’s still no other place I would rather be.”