(Ruby's POV)
The manor looked different when we drove up the long gravel path.
The sun was out, the sky clear. The east wing windows were open, curtains billowing in the breeze. Workers moved across the grounds, carrying lumber, mixing cement, shouting to each other. The west wing was still a skeleton, but the foundation was laid, the frame rising.
It looked like a construction site. It looked like hope.
Nicholas parked the car near the front steps. I sat there for a moment, looking at the house.
"You've been sitting there for five minutes," he said.
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"About the first time I came here." I didn't look at him. I kept my eyes on the manor. "I was so scared. I thought I was walking into a prison."
"And now?"
I opened the door and stepped out. The gravel crunched under my boots. The air smelled like sawdust and sea salt. The sun was warm on my face.
"Now I'm walking home."
