Page 22 of Loyally, Luke
She didn’t look like an Ellie. For some reason the name seemed too short or simple for her. Luke mentally slapped himself at the ridiculous notion. And what did it matter anyway? Ellie was a fine name. Rolled off the tongue easily enough.
She pulled her gaze from his.
Was she trying to figure out if his name fit him? It did. Concise. To the point. His mama told him once that the name meant “light-giving,” which he never shared with anyone because the meaning sounded like it fit Penelope more than him. But there was something... nice about the sentiment. Bringing light to folks.
“I see Mrs.Kershaw has already emptied out everything from the cupboards.”
“The closets too.” He gestured against the door with the hammer.Had he always talked with his hammer? And why was he suddenly noticing it now? Being in a different country brought out all sorts of weird things.
“She’s keen to have a new kitchen. It’s been a dream for a long time, but the last few years other projects took priority, like updating the plumbing and wiring.” Her focus zeroed in on the two closets and she proceeded to walk over to them, examining their positions. “Yes, this would add a great deal of space for storage.”
“And you already know what cabinets and updated appliances you want?”
She nodded, peering into the smallest closet. “Mrs.Kershaw and I have those ordered and I’ll email you the specifics to help with your planning. There are no lights in these closets either.” She cast a look over her shoulder as she stepped inside. “I don’t think I added that to our list.”
Luke took a few steps closer. She’d worn simple navy slacks and a white dress shirt today. A little more approachable than the suits, but still clearly a physical reminder of their differences. High-class. Country grown?
Keep your head down, boy!
“It’s on the estimate. Any sizable pantry needs good lighting.”
She sent him a brief smile and then turned on her phone flashlight, stepping farther into the closet.
What on earth was she doing?
“Are you looking for something in particular?” He waited at the threshold of the door. The closet was easily five feet by five feet, but it was still too small for him to enter with her.
Well, not literally, but... in all other ways.
“Mrs.Kershaw told me that this particular closet has some preserved signatures of children from the World WarII era.” Her words came muffled from inside the shadowed closet. “They’re not visible when the closets are full, but with them empty, I thought I’d try to find them.”
The lilt in her voice, the childlike curiosity, pulled him another step.
“Oh yes! They’re here.”
He barely recognized her voice at this point. Gone was the distant, controlled woman. She still seemed pretty prim and proper, but something had shifted in her personality, and it was more than just going from Ms.St.Clare to Ellie. He’d even noticed it when they met an hour earlier. Could it have something to do with trusting him?
Curiosity drew him, like a loon, around the doorframe. The sweet scent of oranges and flowers almost had him hightailing it right back out of the space.
Oranges never smelled so distracting before.
He gave his head a strong shake. As soon as he got back to the cabin, he was watchingRambo. These “sweet” references in his mind had to go.
She looked back at him as he entered, a broad smile his unexpected greeting. “Look there. These are the reasons preserving this place is so important.”
Dozens of names marked the old wooden, paneled wall at the back of the closet. Different handwriting. Some sharp, others curved. Dates like April1940, September1941. The earliest he could see from his cursory view was November1939. Almost a century ago.
“Malcolm Ferguson was an orphan himself before he worked his way in trade to become one of the wealthiest men in Scotland.” Her finger slid across one of the names and she dropped to her knees, the light from her phone following her movements. “He met and married a woman from Crieff and built here. When he lost two of his three sons in the Great War, he and his wife left Skymar, taking their remaining son with them back to Scotland, but as he left, he donated Cambric Hall to the royal family in hopes of it being used to care for the many orphans of Skymar.” She looked up at him from her crouched position, her eyes glowing from the flashlight... or the story. “It’s one of thereasons I requested this appointment.” She turned back to the names, her voice lowering. “It seemed a good place to find hope.”
He ignored the sudden softening around his heart and stepped back. Within twenty-four hours, she’d gone from being Cruella de Snarl to an... interesting anomaly. Snarky with tenderness underneath. Reminded him a little of Princess Leia and Han Solo’s first few meetings. That was definitely an enemies-to—
He halted his thoughts right there. How on earth was Penelope sneaking into his brain, even ruining one of his favorite classic movies with her crazy, heart-eyed romance talk?
And the last thing he needed to do was focus on any “broken” parts of Ellie St.Clare. The fixer inside him was already having a Rambo-style war with his rational don’t-get-involved side.
So he just stayed quiet and took another step back.
“I wonder why they would cover the bottom part of some of the names by placing this board here?”
