Mr Scaglin thought for a moment, while Nessa crossed her fingers. If he said no, her plan to improve the cottage would be over, just like that. But his next words warmed her heart.
‘I believe that would be acceptable. The landlord has been bleating about me not clearing the shop completely so he can’t complain if you take some of it away. And there’s no need to pay. There’s not much left and it will end up in a skip otherwise.’
‘That’s so kind of you. Are you sure?’
‘I’m very sure. I felt bad about having to let you go.’
‘You shouldn’t feel bad about that. You had to do what was best for you.’
‘Yes, though I wonder now if it was best for me.’ He sniffed. ‘Anyway, I’ll contact the landlord to let him know you need access. What’s the DIY project you’re tackling?’
Nothing much. Just moving into a derelict Ghost Village cottage for a month and making it habitable.
Nessa shook her head. ‘It’s a bit hard to explain but I’ll tell you about it when Lily and I come to visit. Thank you so much, Mr Scaglin.’
‘You’re welcome, and I’ll look forward to your visit. Oh, and Nessa…’
‘Yes?’
‘I think you should call me Desmond, don’t you? Take care, dear.’
And with that he ended the call.
Nessa hadn’t cried since she’d scattered her grandmother’s ashes to the wind. Even though she’d since had to deal with a difficult ex mother-in-law, dwindling finances, a perpetually disappointing ex-husband, and a posh businessman from the city who wanted to destroy her family’s heritage.
But being invited to call Mr Scaglin by his first name, after all these years, was the final straw. Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.