Page 37 of The Beach Cottage
A message had come through with a notification that glared bright in the dim hall light. She stared at it a moment, then shouted for joy. The grant had been approved. The refuge would live another day.
With a flick of her finger, she switched on the kitchen light and set about looking for her frying pan, which she found in the dishwasher, then stopped again to stare at her phone. The message said she should complete the appropriate paperwork to have the money transferred to her account. The attachment was twenty pages long.
Her heart sank. Twenty pages of paperwork? She needed the money yesterday, but with her schedule the way it was, she wouldn’t have time to fill out the forms until Thursday night. That was five days away. And she was exhausted after a full week of work, plus gardening around the house and cleaning most of the day — Saturday was designated time for domestic duties.
A thought popped into her head — Rowan had told her she could call him when she needed help. He was good at paperwork. As a journalist, he spent his life writing, filling out forms and working on computers. Perhaps she should make the call. She hated to be needy. Hated needing him for anything. But maybe it was time she made herself a little more vulnerable. She didn’t have to be Superwoman and do everything on her own all the time. At least, that’s what her mother always told her whenever she wore herself out trying to manage alone.
“Fine,” she said to herself. “I’ll call him. It’s not a big deal. He offered, he’s a friend … sort of . . . and anyway, I need the help. Otherwise, I’ll be up all night doing this.”
A cat slunk around the corner and into the kitchen. It mewed at her.
“I know, Bart, I’m talking to myself. But I’m not crazy, I promise,” she said to the cat, who rubbed himself against her legs, tail raised high.
She dialled and waited, heart pounding. His voice sent a thrill up her spine she wasn’t expecting.
“My grant was approved, and I have twenty pages of paperwork…”
“Say no more,” he replied. “I’m coming over.”
“I’ll make dinner,” she said.
“Great—I’m starving. I’ll bring the wine.”
By the time Rowan arrived at her house, the eggs were ready and served at the table on sourdough toast. The pancakes were slathered in butter and piled high on a plate, and she’d brewed a batch of steaming hot coffee. Although she wasn’t sure either of them should imbibe caffeine right now since Rowan was always high energy and she was extremely nervous about him coming over. In fact, she’d almost called him back three times to cancel, but had talked herself out of it.
It made no sense for the two of them to spend time together. They didn’t get along, they drove each other crazy, and her brother wouldn’t be happy if he heard about it. No matter how much she convinced herself it was none of his business, she still jumped when she heard the car door slam outside and wondered for a moment if it was Rob home from the mainland early before realising it was Rowan.
With a slow intake of breath to calm herself, she hurried to answer the door and let him in with bright, cheery conversation, completely out of character for her usual quiet, subdued self.
He listened with a slight smile on his face for several seconds before putting a hand on her shoulder, looking her in the eye and saying, “You seem a little wound up. Are you okay?”
She blinked. “Fine. I’m fine. Would you like coffee?”
“No, thanks. I don’t drink caffeine at this time of night.” He sat at the table across from her. “Are you worried about the paperwork? Or is there something else?”
That was when she sat at the table, held Bart as he purred on her lap, and told Rowan about the murder investigation she and her friends were undertaking and how it’d brought up issues she hadn’t thought about in years. How she was concerned for a little girl who’d shown up one day at the refuge and wormed her way into Penny’s heart. There were so many things on her mind that had her nerves all twisted up.
But the one thing she didn’t tell him was that he’d overturned her nice, happy little existence, where everything made sense, and elicited feelings she thought were long behind her.
Finally, she stopped and held her breath, waiting for his response. She’d said too much, revealed too big a piece of herself to him. Regret swamped her.
“You’re carrying a lot of things around on your shoulders. I’m not surprised you’re anxious. Let’s tackle one thing at a time, starting with the paperwork, and go from there.” He smiled at her, and her shoulders lowered. His face was open and caring, his posture relaxed. He didn’t judge her. Wasn’t going to make a smart quip like he usually did. She’d been waiting for the remark that would drive a knife through her heart, but it didn’t come.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
They sat at her computer, side by side, working. As they did, they talked together about the past and the future. His hopes and dreams, her plans and procrastination. They laughed over the mistakes he’d made or the times she’d fallen on her face. And slowly her heart opened, piece by piece, until she’d forgotten all about guarding it from him or that she’d once seen him as the enemy.
When they completed the final section of the form, she submitted the details, and it was done. It hadn’t been nearly as cumbersome a process as she’d thought it would be. At least, not with Rowan’s help. They’d had fun together, and the time had flown. She couldn’t believe it was almost midnight by the time they finally switched off her computer. But just as she pressed the button, the entire house fell into darkness.
“What on earth?” Rowan’s disembodied voice floated in the air between them.
“Oh, no,” she said.
“Maybe you have a short?”
She sighed. It wasn’t a short. “No, I don’t think that’s it.”
“Well, what is it?”
