Never Too Late (7 page)

“I know it hasn’t been updated, but Barrowdene is rare. It still has so many of its original Georgian features. You must have seen the beautiful fireplaces in the rooms, the panelling, the wood floors. Much of the furniture is also original, hand-made. You won’t find many other houses like this.”

But he didn’t look impressed. “The structure is sound, but it would hardly suit a family in its current state. The larger bedrooms need en-suites, the kitchen needs an overhaul, and though there’s plenty of light, the whole house still feels drab.”

He was talking about the light from the large ceiling-to-floor sash windows in every room. She pushed her point. “Well, even though a few of the upstairs rooms are small, there’s so much light they don’t feel cramped. Besides, you could easily join some of the smaller rooms together or convert them into en-suites without much affecting the house. And Barrowdene is not really that drab. A touch of polish and paint, and the whole house would be as good as new.”

He grinned at her. “I think if you had your way, you’d leave the entire house untouched.”

They’d reached Rose Cottage, and she turned to him. He would renovate Barrowdene and he would sell it on, just as Martin had said, but she wasn’t going to let the beautiful house she loved lose its identity without a fight. “I realize it needs work, but maybe not as much as you think. It would make a wonderful and unique family home, Jake, just don’t destroy its heart.”

He regarded her in silence for a moment. “How about I let you take the lead in this? You work with me, and I’ll update Barrowdene to your standards.”

“Take the lead?” She looked at him cautiously, unable to believe her ears. “You mean… like… have a say?”

He nodded. “So, we have a deal? I get you by my side throughout this.”

A chance to have her voice heard on how Barrowdene was redone? A smile of pure delight welled from her. “Yes!”

Jake stared.

When she smiled like that, the sheer joy and unaffected beauty of her nearly knocked him off his feet. His mouth curved into an answering grin. The chase was on. 

This was going to be interesting.

Molly burst into the cottage, a huge grin on her face as she shrugged off her suit jacket and hung it on the round staircase post.

He’d been indulging her. No way would Jake Hennessy allow her to hijack his plans for Barrowdene, but he’d given her a small opening, and she’d make damn sure as much of the original house was preserved as possible.

Nan came out of the kitchen. “My, don’t you look happy. Anything to do with a certain handsome young man visiting today?”

Molly’s grin snapped to a frown and her cheeks burned hot as she gathered herself. “Jake Hennessy, you mean?”

“What did you think of him?”

“What should I think? Francine seemed keen to impress him.”

Nan chuckled. “Yes, and hence a restaurant dinner. My simple home cooking wouldn’t be doing much impressing, would it?” She turned and headed back in to the bright kitchen.

“I love your cooking,” Molly said, following her. “But since you have the evening free, why not put your feet up and let me make dinner for you.”

“Now that sounds nice.”

The remains of lunchtime’s roast lamb rested beside the stove, and washing her hands, Molly picked at it. “How about super-speedy hotpot? I’ll cook the vegetables first.”

“Pass me those onions then, and you can get on with the rest.” Nan took a chopping board over to the round oak table. Reaching up to the old radio on the shelf behind her, she pushed a button, and the melodic strums of B.B.King’s guitar floated into the kitchen.

Slipping Nan’s pink frilly apron over her silk camisole and trousers, Molly got to work washing carrots and potatoes in the white ceramic sink.

“So you weren’t much impressed?” Nan asked, peeling the onions without shedding a single tear.

“What does it matter what I think of him? He’s buying Barrowdene and that’s that.”

“Well, I thought him a nice, polite young man, and good looking too. Always a welcome combination.” Her eyes twinkled as she glanced at Molly. “It’s no wonder Francine’s fluttering around him. Many a woman would. Though, I didn’t think younger men were her type, seeing as he’s only thirty.”

Francine and Jake. Sudden jealousy knotted Molly’s stomach, and she forced the image from her mind, frowning. “How do we know what her type is? What with all the talk.”

Nan tutted as she chopped onions. “Absolute rubbish. I’ve known Francine since she used to visit Barrowdene as a little girl. She married so young. He was an Indian doctor, much older than her. I met him once, a quiet, well-mannered man. I think he made Francine’s world a little more peaceful after the fall-out of her parents’ divorce.”

Enthralled, Molly peeled and chopped on auto-pilot.

“Eugenie wanted the marriage undone as soon as she found out.” Nan put the knife down with a sad shake of her head. “She was quite horrid about it, and it’s one thing I never did agree with her on. Francine refused to speak to her again and left with her husband for India. She trained as a nurse and worked with him there.”

“Where is he now?”

Nan passed her the chopped onions and sat back down. “He died a few years back. That’s why she returned to England. But he left her well enough to live out the rest of her days wanting for nothing.”

Molly paused over the sautéing vegetables and looked at her. “But there’s so much gossip about her in Appleby. Why didn’t you say something before?”

“It’s hardly my place to spread it around Appleby. You know how much Francine likes her privacy. Mind you, if someone did bad-mouth her in front of me, I’d have none of it.”

“Considering the way Eugenie behaved towards her, It’s a wonder that Francine kept Barrowdene going as she has. She could have easily sold it two years back,” Molly said, and arranging everything into a casserole dish, she placed it in the heated oven.

“We’ll never know why,” Nan said. “But Barrowdene couldn’t have found a better new owner than Jake. Do you know, he’s asked Nate and me to stay on for as long as he owns it. I told him it’s a family home and that it needs children to complete it. Well, he doesn’t have children… yet.” Nan’s smile was mischievous.

Molly stared at her, lost for words. Did Nan really think Jake was going to set up home in Barrowdene? That everything would go on as before?

She pulled out the wooden chair opposite Nan and sat down. “Nan, you don’t understand. He’s not planning to stay here and make children. He’s a developer. He’s looking to renovate Barrowdene and sell it on as quickly as possible.”

“He’s an architect, Molly, and you don’t understand. There’s something about Barrowdene. Those who come here, eventually find what they’re looking for. There’s a peace that lets you stay.”

Profit. That’s what Jake Hennessy was looking for.

She shook her head in frustration at her nan’s blind faith. “How can you say that? Francine certainly doesn’t want to stay here. And what about my dad? Why didn’t he stay? At least for me. Why didn’t he stay?”

“Oh, my Ricky.” Nan’s smile was sad. “He never meant to leave you, child. But your ma… she held his heart, and he left to bring her back.”

Molly nodded, contrite. “And the fire. I know. It wasn’t their fault. I should never have brought it up. But… I wish he’d never gone.”

The blues music played on, a broken-hearted lament for her thoughts.

Nan placed a hand over hers on the table. “Neither of them were to blame, Molly, not your father and not your mother. Not you either. You were only a little babe then. What could you have done? Your dad, he only wanted his family back together. Though, I’ll forever be grateful I didn’t let him take you to France that day.”

Molly gave her nan’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Me too, Nan. But right now we have to accept that Francine is leaving, and Jake won’t be staying.”

“Francine may just have found what she’s looking for, and as for Jake, you never know how these things work out.”

Her heart ached to hear the hope in Nan’s voice. “No matter what happens, we’ll be all right, okay? I’ll make sure.”

Nan smiled. “I know love.” She sniffed. “Smells like your hotpot’s ready.”

Molly got up and turning off the oven, took the casserole dish out. The smell of rich meaty gravy filled the kitchen. She was about to serve the bubbling contents of the dish on to two plates when there was a knock at the door.

“That’ll be Nate.” Nan eased herself up from her chair.

“No, I’ll get it. You sit there and rest,” Molly said, glancing at the clock on the wall and placing a third plate on the counter top. Quarter past six was early for Nate. Maybe he’d decided against getting sozzled down at the pub this evening. 

Wiping her hands on her apron, she went into the hallway, opened the front door and stood gaping.

Jake stood there, both hands nonchalantly pushed into his trouser pockets. His gaze roamed over her, taking in the frilly pink apron over her camisole and grey work trousers, before finally resting on her flaming face and wild hair.

Her eyes were drawn to how his stance caused his jacket to stretch over his broad muscular shoulders, and she gave herself a quick mental kick, dragging her gaze away from his body and meeting the familiar amusement in his eyes.

She frowned. “How can I help you, Mr Hennessy?” His eyebrow rose, and she amended hastily. “Jake.”

Nan bustled up behind her. “Jake! What a surprise. Come in. Come in.”

He grinned and stepped into the cottage, forcing Molly to scramble out of the way to let him through.

His tall frame dwarfed their boxy hallway as he stood and looked around, inhaling appreciatively. “Something smells delicious, Lucy.”

Nan beamed. “Molly’s been cooking dinner. And now that you’re here, you’ll have to join us. It’s only polite.”

“Oh… But…” Molly began, and they both looked at her. “Francine! She must be waiting for you. Weren’t you going out for dinner?”

“She’s getting ready.” Jake checked the gold watch on his wrist. “I have half an hour or more.”

She tried again. “But you’ll spoil your appetite.”

“I’ve plenty of that.”

The look he threw her was suggestive and she shut up fast as heat climbed her cheeks.

“Come along then.” Nan led the way to the kitchen. “Molly, you serve.”

She trudged after them.

“This is cosy.” Jake glanced around the bright, yellow and white kitchen as he stooped slightly to get through the small doorway.

Nan watched him and chuckled. “Ricky, my son, had to do that all the time. He was always complaining these old cottages were too small for him.”

“Your son?” He glanced at Molly as she squeezed into the kitchen after him. Ignoring him she went about the task of serving dinner.

“Molly’s dad. He died when she was a baby.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been a great loss for you.”

“Yes, but we had Molly to live for.” Nan pulled out the chair next to the one Molly had sat in. “Get comfortable. I hope you like the old blues?”

The slow rhythms still danced through the kitchen.

“I’m all for the blues.” He said, lowering himself into the chair.

The round wooden table was big enough for four, but seated, he took up most of the space on that side of the kitchen. Molly had to step over one outstretched leg to place the plates on the table. Shooting him a harassed look, she sat down, careful not to let an arm or leg graze his.

He grinned, and picking up his fork, dug into the heaped plateful before him and tasted a mouthful.

“Mmm, looks good, smells good, tastes good. My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank you.” She kept her gaze on her plate.

It was overpowering having him this close, and in her own house. Her nerves were shot to pieces.

He reached for his glass of water and his hand skimmed close, making goose-pimples erupt on her arm. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat.

Why couldn’t she control her body’s reaction to him? It had never been this way with Brian. Was it his size? Brian was six foot, but Jake looked to be taller by three or four inches. His shoulders were broader than Brian’s, more built, but there was something more. It was like that time at the pub. He’d radiated the same presence then, commanding and taking over whatever space he occupied.

“…don’t we, Molly?”

Nan’s voice registered, and startled, Molly looked up. “Sorry?”

Jake’s thoughtful gaze was on her. “I was saying it’s a treat to have home-cooked food. I don’t get it that often.”

“Um… Do you travel a lot?” She cringed inside. Hopefully he wouldn’t guess he was the reason for her distraction.

“I’m rarely in one place long, and hotel food is impersonal, no matter how good the place is.”

“It’s all out of cans and packets,” Nan said with a disdainful sniff. “Food belongs in a proper kitchen, and that’s why a man needs a good woman with him. Left to your own dealings, you men don’t know your pot from a kettle.”

He grinned, and Molly groaned inwardly, glueing her gaze to her plate again. What on earth was Nan thinking?

She sneaked a glance at him as he ate. Didn’t his girlfriend cook for him? Maybe it wasn’t the done thing in ultra-modern relationships. For heaven’s sake, why did she care anyway?

“Was there something in particular you wanted to speak to Nan or me about this evening?” she asked, fixing him with a baleful look.

“Francine says you’re not working tomorrow.”

Her eyebrows shot up. Since when did Francine know her working hours. “Martin, my boss, is in London on Fridays.”

Jake nodded. “Then you can spend the day with me. I wanted to look around the village.”

She gaped at him.

“We have an agreement,” he added softly.

An agreement? But that was about Barrowdene, not about being his tour guide. When he’d offered her a say in how Barrowdene was being remodelled, she hadn’t planned on spending oodles of time in his company. To hell with his high-handedness. She opened her mouth to turn him down flat.

But Nan got there first. “Now, that’ll be nice. It’s a fine day tomorrow. You can go for a walk and then stop for lunch at the pub. They cook it fresh, not out of any packet.”