Page 18 of Lime Tree Hill

Tayla hesitated. It had been years since she’d been inside, and she had no idea how she’d feel after all that time. The thought of him lying dead in his bed still freaked her out.

Mitch cocked his head in invitation. “Come on.”

Following him along the hallway, Tayla trailed her hand along the wood paneling. “I love this, how you’ve painted the tongue and groove off-white,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “Everything’s so much lighter.”

“Thanks. The place was a depressing dump before. All that floral wallpaper and dark wood.” He opened the door to Norman’s bedroom.

She looked from the doorway, reluctant to venture inside but also surprised by her lack of reaction. There were no goosebumps or shivers up her spine. “It’s beautiful. The palette reminds me of the silkworm cocoons lying in a straw basket that my biology teacher had on a shelf in her classroom.” She glanced over her shoulder and caught his amusement.

“Come see the kitchen.”

Apart from the black enamel coal range, the kitchen was new. Tayla couldn’t believe how the cabinets and appliances nestled into the space as if they belonged. In the adjoining sunroom—Norman’s nook as she’d once called it—his antique writing desk still held pride of place, and wing-backed chairs in sapphire blue velvet sat on a plush ivory rug.

She sat at the desk, smoothing her hands over the inlay. The smell of leather took her back. “I always loved this desk. I’d sit here to read to him. He’d sip tea and eat scones or shortbread. Occasionally, he’d ask me to reread a line or paragraph so he could grasp the meaning.”

“East of Edenwas one of the books you read to him, wasn’t it?”

She smiled at the memory. “It was. We finished it two weeks before he died. How did you know?”

“He talked about it. Reading fiction was one of the few things we had in common.”

Tayla glanced up. On the wall above the desk, a woodcut of a famous Tolstoy quote caught her eye. She read it aloud: “‘If you look for perfection, you’ll never be content.’ Where did you get that?”

“I made it. It was one of Norman’s favorite quotes. Not one he lived by, unfortunately.” He watched her with the same intensity she’d felt the day he’d asked her to marry him—with questioning eyes and that hint of amusement. “What do you think? Of the cottage, I mean.”

“It’s beautiful.” She swallowed hard, a physical reaction to how talking about Norman made her feel. “You’ve done a great job. You’ve never thought about moving in?”

“What, here? No. Too many ghosts from the past.”

Tayla rose from the desk and walked through to the living room, Mitch following two steps behind. She stood back to admire the colorful artwork. “I love these Gauguin prints. They add a touch of vibrancy that lifts the whole interior. I’ve always been a fan of his work.”

“Yeah? I found them rolled up in an old trunk in the spare bedroom. I love how he used bold color to offset the expressions of his subjects.”

Tayla stepped forward and ran her hand over the frame of the first print. She hadn’t thought of that before, but now Mitchmentioned it, she understood what he meant. “I miss him. Norman, I mean.”

Mitch inhaled deeply, a sadness in his expression. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen his vulnerable side. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Thanks for the tour. He’d be impressed with what you’ve done, not just here, but with the orchard too.”

“I’m not so sure about that. Norman didn’t approve of my choices as a rule.” He followed her through to the hallway. “At least he came to Massey for my graduation though. That was something.”

“You went to university?”

“You sound surprised. Do you see me as uneducated, Tayla?”

Turning, she caught his wry smile. “Any man who quotes Tolstoy and understands Post-Impressionism is obviously educated. But education comes in varying degrees. What did you study?”

“Engineering.”

“Norman told me you loved constructing bridges, dams, and tall buildings. But in my imagination, you were a cute little boy tinkering with that old-school Meccano set he kept in a box on his bookshelf.”

“So, you imagined me as cute?”

Tayla looked his way. “Our imagination can play tricks when we don’t possess all the facts, don’t you agree?” And her imagination was playing all kinds of tricks right now. Ones it had no business playing. What would he taste like if they kissed, how would she feel wrapped in his arms?

He nodded, his gaze holding hers.

“Anyway, I should go.” She broke eye contact. “Thanks again. I wished I’d had the chance to say goodbye. He was such a lovely man.”

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