The cottage and property showed classic signs of neglect. What was once a pebbled drive was now dotted with weeds and small saplings. The lawn was too high with wild grass and wildflowers, obviously forsaken by the teen Shane had hired to mow the place once in a while. Shutters hung drunkenly from wood-framed windows. A couple of the steps and boards on the small front porch were rotted and warped. Several shingles lifted in the slight breeze; undoubtedly there would be more in a good, stiff wind or one of the frequent thunderstorms that popped up this time of year. And that was just the outside.
Kieran wondered what Shane was thinking, selling a property in this condition, even with the current distractions in his life. While unusual for him to buy a property in such a state of disrepair, it was not unheard of. In those infrequent instances, the purchase was usually made as a joint venture with their cousin, Johnny Connelly, who ran a construction and home remodeling company in the next town. But Johnny clearly hadn’t been working his magic out here, and Kieran had trouble believing his overly-cautious brother would let anyone buy it, let alone a single mom. Even if she was the female equivalent of Bob Villa or Ty Pennington she’d be in over her head with this place.
At first glance, the inside wasn’t much better. A thick layer of dust and cobwebs covered everything. It was minimally furnished – at least Kieran supposed it was furniture beneath the heavy drop cloths scattered here and there. What looked like a couch in the living room. A rickety table and two chairs in the kitchen. Nothing in the bedrooms.
Not surprisingly, the electricity was not turned on, though the place did seem to have running water. He turned on the spigot in the kitchen, letting it run for several minutes until the rusty brown started turning clear again. Thank goodness for small miracles, he muttered.
At least the cottage seemed to be structurally sound overall. The interior would need a lot of patchwork, and a few sheets of drywall here and there, but nothing too overwhelming, he admitted reluctantly, then wondered why it mattered so much to him.
He knew why. Jack Callaghan had raised his boys the old-fashioned way. Women were exquisite creatures that were to be coveted and cared for. He had a very strong protective streak in him when it came to things like that. Oh, he knew it wasn’t exactly a politically correct viewpoint, but such things were hard-wired into him, right alongside his sense of honor and loyalty and Irish pride.
He respected a woman’s right to have the same choices as a man, but he also felt a responsibility to look out for them, some deep-rooted belief that it was simply the right thing to do. It was what his brothers consistently referred to as his “knight” complex, though in truth, they were all guilty of feeling the same thing to some degree.
Kieran rubbed at his chest again. The strange unease he’d felt all day was intensifying. He looked up into the late afternoon sky expecting to find the hint of an approaching storm – it felt just like that, like a warning that something powerful was headed his way – but found nothing except cloudless blue all around. The sensation seemed much stronger here than it had earlier at Maggie’s or Lacie’s.
He tried to shrug it off, believing it to be his own conscience rebelling – first at helping Michael distract Maggie, and now at the thought of a single mom moving into a place like this.
Most of the time he kept his views to himself, at least tried to, but this was just going too far. Deciding that something had to be done, Kieran got back into his Porsche and returned to the Pub with the intent of telling Shane he simply had to find another property.
Maybe then this anxiety would ease.
*
Faith felt a stab of excitement when she made the right onto Sycamore Lane. According to the realtor, the property was all the way down at the end on the right hand side. She cruised past the houses, reciting the numbers on the mailboxes aloud, Matt’s soft echoes synchronized with hers.
A sleek black Porsche passed them going in the other direction, earning a murmur of appreciation from Matt. Faith felt a brief but intense shiver of anticipation, a warming tingle that began deep in her belly and radiated outward.
“Ready?” she asked, shoving the odd sensation out of the way when she stopped the car at the massive evergreen that marked the property end of number 1780 and the beginning of 1782. Beyond that tree lay the culmination of dreams over the last ten years: a home, a real home.
Matt took a deep steadying breath. “Ready,” he answered with his irresistible grin. Faith held that picture of him in her heart, knowing that in only a few years he’d be off on his own.
Faith edged the car forward, turning into the pebbled drive and continuing all the way up toward the cottage. They sat there, the two of them, wide-eyed and silent as they got their first look at their new home in the approaching twilight. Faith scanned the overgrown lawn, took in the sagging and cockeyed porch as well as the drunkenly hanging shutters.
“It’s perfect,” Matt said, his voice filled with awe. A single tear slipped down Faith’s cheek.
She couldn’t have agreed more.