Page 58 of Never Been Gargoyled
“Then I can keep working on the estate?”
“Absolutely. Until a judge tells you otherwise, this is still your property, and you can do whatever you want with it.”
She threw her arms around me. The sudden contact made my wings flare, but I wrapped my arms around her waist and held her close.
“Thank you,” she said against my chest. “I don’t know what all this means, and I’m worried I’ll lose everything.”
Her body was warm and soft against mine, and I could smell the lingering scent of the flower petals from her bath in her hair. The urge to protect her, to shield her from every worry and stress, was overwhelming.
“They're trying to wear you down,” I said. “Make you think the fight isn't worth it.”
“Is it worth it?” She pulled back to lookat me, her brown eyes uncertain. “I’m serious. They could get a real court order. What if Rebecca wins and I lose everything anyway?”
“We’ll worry about that then. I'm not giving up, and neither should you.”
She searched my face for a long moment, then nodded. “You're right. We fight.”
“We fight.”
She stepped back, and I immediately missed her warmth. “What's our next move?”
“We find those letters.”
We spent the next two hours searching through the library systematically. I took the filing cabinets while Dazy went through the desk drawers and bookshelves. We found plenty of interesting things from old photos, to expired warranties, plus recipes written in Helga's careful handwriting. But no letters from Rebecca.
“Maybe she threw them away.” Dazy closed the last desk drawer with a sigh.
“She may have kept them somewhere else. We'll check her bedroom tomorrow, and the basement filing cabinets. We’ll look everywhere until we find them.”
I could see the exhaustion creeping in around her eyes. The day had been emotionally draining, from her breakdown on the front steps to our interrupted encounter to the legal papers that had arrived like a slap in the face.
“You should eat something,” I said. “And get some rest.”
“I should make dinner.” She rubbed her temples. “I was thinking I’d make lasagna. Comfort food.”
“I can help.”
“Only one cook in my kitchen,” she said with a tired laugh. “Tonight, I’ll cook for you. Tomorrow, it’s your turn.”
What could I make?
That’s when I realized she was not only inviting me to dinner but into her life to prepare our next shared meals. My heart was thudding fast enough to outrun horses.
Could she adore me the same way I did her?
“I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready,” she said.
After she left for the kitchen, I stood alone in the library, surrounded by the chaos of our search. Papers were scattered across the floor, books pulled from shelves, drawers left open. It looked like a tornado had blown through.
The need to do something useful, something that would help Dazy, gnawed at me, so I straightened the room. After, I couldn't sit still, couldn't read or research or pretend to relax.
Then I remembered the greenhouse attached to the back of the house, a beautiful glass structure that had been Helga's favorite place in her younger years. So she’d told me. It had been neglected for decades, filled with dead plants, broken pots, and years of accumulated debris.
If I could clean it out, set it up properly, Dazy could use it to start seedlings for the botanical garden shedreamed of creating. Even if she lost the estate, she could take the plants with her wherever she went.
The greenhouse was worse than I remembered. Cobwebs draped across the insides like funeral shrouds, and the smell of decay nearly overwhelmed me. Moldy leaves squished under my feet as I made my way through the space, assessing what needed to be done.
Everything. Everything needed to be done.
