Page 2 of Winter Beginnings
A soft scuttling noise in the next room made me jump. Possibly a mouse—or something bigger. Time to exit, pronto. Cass was the professional. I’d let him do a more thorough exploration. Hugging myself for warmth, I hurried back onto the porch.
Back in my SUV, I cranked the heat, rubbing my palms together. Outside, the snow-blanketed grounds glittered in the pale sunshine. Without leaves, the trees around the property resembled skeletons, their branches etched against a bleached-blue sky. The hush was absolute, as though the world paused in anticipation. In the distance, I glimpsed glimpses of distant peaks, rising high and white, like silent guardians.
I fiddled with my phone to text Bailey:Just arrived at the mansion. It’s…huge. Pretty, in a haunted-castle way. Wish me luck!
She replied almost instantly:
You got this! It’s definitely a project, but if anyone can breathe life back into that house, it’s you. Also, keep an eye out for the local cat lady, Edna—she’s a sweetheart. And watch out for black ice. XO
I smiled at her cheeriness. Breathe life back into it. Yes, that was my goal, for myself as much as the house. My ex, Julian, had drained my confidence with his betrayals—both personal and professional. Maybe forging a new path here would finally let me cast that pain aside. At least, I sure hoped so.
A soft roar of an engine approached, interrupting my train of thought. I peered in the rearview mirror, seeing a blue pickup roll up the drive. My heart skipped a beat. Cass Whitlock. My soon-to-be partner in battling this monstrous renovation.
I opened the door, bracing as a chilly gust hit me. The driver hopped out: a tall man in a green parka, wearing a red knit beanie, a matching scarf looped at his neck. He had broad shoulders, a slight stubble along a strong jawline, and as he stepped closer, I caught sight of warm hazel eyes that seemed to gleam in the winter sunlight. A peculiar flutter danced low in my stomach. Bailey hadn’t been lying about his looks.
He offered a wave. “Rory Lancaster?”
I nodded, stepping around my SUV to meet him. “Yes, hi. Cass Whitlock?”
“Yep. Good to finally put a face to the name.” He took my gloved hand, giving it a firm, confident shake. His grip was warmdespite the cold. Surprised by an unexpected tingle, I quickly withdrew, feeling my cheeks heat behind my scarf.
He turned to gaze at the mansion. “So this is the infamous Barrington place. You sure you’re not intimidated?”
A startled laugh escaped me. “I’m definitely intimidated, but I’m doing this anyway.”
He glanced over, those hazel eyes flicking briefly across my face, then dipping to my coat as though taking in the details. “Bravery or madness?” he teased gently.
I shrugged, nerves dancing in my chest. “A bit of both, maybe.”
His laugh rumbled softly. “Let’s go see what we’re up against.”
If I thought I was chilly before, touring the mansion with Cass made me realize the true meaning of cold. The interior was frigid, easily below freezing in places. Every breath we took puffed out in white clouds. My flashlight bobbed over cracked plaster, leaning doorframes, and warped floorboards. Cass periodically knelt to test beams, tapping them with a small mallet he’d pulled from his tool belt.
We ventured from the foyer into what might have been a parlor: a huge fireplace, an ornate ceiling medallion (mostly intact), and tall windows—one broken, one boarded. Dust and debris crunched underfoot, and a tattered rug lay half-frozen to the floor.
“Look at this crown molding,” Cass murmured, aiming his flashlight. The beam revealed intricate floral carvings beneath decades of grime. His voice softened with something akin to reverence. “Must’ve been handcrafted by an expert back in the day. If it’s not too damaged, we can restore it.”
Despite the gloom, a spark of excitement caught in my chest. “That would be amazing. I’d love to keep as many original details as possible.”
He nodded, shining his light on a partially collapsed arch leading to another room. “Exactly. With older properties, preserving the craftsmanship is half the fun.” A grin tugged his lips, and I felt a pang of warmth. His excitement mirrored what I was feeling, too.
Continuing on, we discovered the house’s central hallway, leading to a narrow set of back stairs. Cass frowned at a watery stain on the ceiling. “There might be a leak near that turret. We’ll have to check the roof. If moisture’s been seeping through all winter, the wood up there could be rotten.”
I exhaled a shaky breath. “I was braced for problems, but it’s still overwhelming.”
A gentle sympathy flickered in his eyes. “I get it. Don’t worry—every old house looks dire at first. We’ll figure out what’s salvageable and go from there.”
We made our way down a rickety flight of stairs to a half-basement. Cold air stabbed my lungs, and the smell of damp earth rose around us. Cass’s flashlight revealed a mess of old pipes, some likely original to the house, plus a hulking furnace that looked older than I was. Rust coated its edges, and I suspected it hadn’t run in years.
Cass whistled low. “That’s…definitely going on the replace list.”
A laugh bubbled from me—part nerves, part acceptance. “I’m guessing I can’t fix that with duct tape, huh?”
He chuckled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “Might need something stronger, like a time machine to bring us back an updated model. Don’t worry. We’ll deal with it.”
Something about his reassurance calmed the wild energy coursing through me. I hadn’t expected a contractor to feel so…comforting. Or to find myself drawn to the subtle lines of his face, the softness beneath his confident manner. Shaking the thoughts away, I followed him back upstairs, grateful to leave the basement’s chill behind.
By the time we finished on the first floor, my fingers were numb despite gloves. We paused near a wide window, whose glass was partially intact. Outside, snow glittered in the angled winter sunlight. Cass’s breath puffed near my ear as he peered around my shoulder.