“Well, now that you have your own place, you won’t need our guest room anymore. I’m turning it into a gym.”
She smiled.
“You should probably pack tonight.”
I had spent years helping them.
Cooking.
Cleaning.
Running errands.
Supporting Jared financially whenever something went wrong.
And during Thomas’s illness, I had somehow continued taking care of everyone while also caring for my dying husband.
I could have reminded Jared of all of that.
I didn’t.
I simply stood.
“Fine.”
I packed two suitcases, placed their house keys on the counter, and left.
Four hours later, I was driving into the mountains.
I expected Thomas’s old cabin to be exactly what everyone had always called it.
An aging wooden structure.
Leaky roof.
Old furniture.
Maybe enough heat to survive the winter.
Thomas had spent many weekends there during the final two years of his life.
Whenever I asked why, he said he was doing maintenance so we could eventually sell it.
I believed him.
Then my headlights swept across the property.
I hit the brakes.
The “old cabin” was glowing beneath automatic porch lights.
The timber had been restored.
The windows were new.
The porch looked beautiful.
Fresh gravel covered the drive.
I unlocked the front door using the brass key Thomas had left with my letter.
Then I stopped again.
Inside was a huge stone fireplace.
Beautiful leather furniture.
