He left a message for the Realtor, including his own number, rather than Heather’s.
When he’d disconnected the call, she was scowling at him. “You should have left my number,” she said. “You’ll just tell the woman you made a mistake or something.”
He frowned at the accusation. “Have a little faith in me. It doesn’t really matter which one of us she calls. I know the right questions to ask, and I’ll pass the information on to you.”
She continued to look annoyingly skeptical, but she let it drop.
“Can we have that picnic now?” he asked. “I remember a perfect spot just up the road.”
Heather nodded, but cast one last look of longing over her shoulder as they drove on. Even when they were finally settled on the beach in the chairs Connor had thought to bring along, to sit atop a blanket to avoid getting sand in Heather’s cast, she couldn’t seem to stop talking about the house. She had a million ideas about what she could do with it if it were hers. By the time they’d finished dessert, Connor could envision it all, from the white paint and bright red shutters on the exterior to the sun flooding into the rooms onto highly polished hardwood floors.
Most of all, what he could see with heart-clutching clarity, was the three of them living there. And no matter what reservations he might have about the soundness of Driftwood Cottage, he knew he had to make that happen.
* * *
“There hasn’t been a house for sale along that road for ten years or more,” Mick said when Connor described it later that evening. “Are you talking about the old Hawkins place?”
“I guess,” Connor said.
“Looks like a stiff breeze would blow it down,” Mick assessed. “Agatha Hawkins died two or three months ago. She was in her nineties. With her health declining and no family around to help, she hadn’t done a thing to keep it up.”
“I didn’t see any other place in bad shape along there, so that’s definitely the one. If I get in touch with the Realtor, can you go with me tomorrow to take a look at it?”
“Of course, but if you want a house, why not buy one right here in town? They’re newer and I can vouch for the quality of the construction.”
“Dad, believe me, I know your houses are in better shape, but Heather likes that one,” Connor finally admitted. “Has her heart set on it, in fact.”
Mick studied him with a narrowed gaze. “So which one of you is considering buying it?”
“I am,” Connor said. He hesitated for a minute, then added with a touch of defiance, “For us.”
Mick let out a yelp, then shouted for Megan. She came rushing into the living room, looking alarmed. “What on earth is going on in here?”
“Connor’s finally seen the light! He’s buying a house for him and Heather,” Mick announced as if he personally had made it happen.
His mother’s eyes lit up. “You are? Oh, Connor, it’s wonderful that you two are finally getting married. I’m so happy for you! I’ll call Bridget first thing tomorrow and see what I can do to help with the wedding.”
Connor closed his eyes against the powerful tide of parental enthusiasm. “Slow down,” he warned them, hating to put a damper on their excitement. “I never said anything about marriage.”
Both Mick and Megan regarded him with confusion.
“Then what the devil are you talking about?” Mick demanded, looking as if Connor had pulled some sort of bait-and-switch con on him. “Living together didn’t work out so well before. What makes you think Heather will agree to that again?”
“She won’t,” Connor conceded.
“But you’re not getting married?” Megan said, clearly bewildered.
“Not yet.” He finally sighed. “I’m hoping the house will get her to take my proposal seriously.”
“Now I really am confused,” Mick said. “You proposed?”
“And she said no?” Megan looked shocked.
“Pretty much,” Connor told them. He didn’t think his pride could take explaining yet again that she’d turned him down more than once.
His parents exchanged a look. “Buying a house worked for Trace,” Mick commented, his expression thoughtful. “It got Abby’s attention. No reason to think it won’t work in this situation.”
“It is a dramatic gesture,” Megan added approvingly. “Women love things like that.” Then her brow creased with worry. “Are you sure Heather likes this house? I’ve driven by there. It just strikes me as sad.”
“I actually think that’s part of its appeal,” Connor said. “Against all odds, she’s crazy about it. I’m the one who’s skeptical. That’s why I want Dad to check it out, see if it’s worth renovating.”
Megan smiled. “If Heather has her heart set on this house, for whatever reason, she’s not going to be persuaded by logic if it turns out to be a construction nightmare. You do know that, don’t you?”
Connor sighed. “Yes. I just need to know how expensive this nightmare is going to be.”
* * *
Heather couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Driftwood Cottage. She had no idea how she could afford to buy a house, even if she sold her tiny apartment. It wasn’t so much the timing. These units in the heart of town were always in demand, and summer, when tourists flooded the community, was the perfect time to sell. The problem was the likely income from the sale compared to what it would take to buy beachfront property, even outside of the town limits. Still, she couldn’t seem to keep herself from daydreaming about that house.
Two days later, when she hadn’t heard from either Connor or the Realtor, she dug the slip of paper out of her purse and called the Realtor herself. This time Willow Smith answered right away.
“I’m calling about a house on Beach Drive,” Heather told her. “I couldn’t spot a number, but it’s called Driftwood Cottage. Could
