Chapter 9 - The Kitchen Window
Three months later, the Blue Ridge mountains were blazing with the brilliant, fiery colors of autumn.
The estate on Hawthorne Ridge had undergone a quiet transformation. The heavy velvet drapes that had kept the sunlight out for seven years were permanently pulled back, letting the warm morning light flood into every corner of the house.
In the kitchen, the windows were wide open, letting the crisp mountain air and the scent of falling pine needles drift inside.
Nathan sat at the small harvest table, drinking black coffee laced with cinnamon and orange peel. On the counter beside him, a fresh batch of biscuits cooled on a wire rack.
Evie stood by the stove, humming an old country hymn while stirring a pot of blackberry preserves.
Nathan reached into his pocket. He pulled out Claire’s cracked watch. For seven years, he had kept the hands frozen at 11:43 p.m., refusing to let time move forward.
Slowly, deliberately, Nathan took the small golden winder on the side. He turned it once. Twice.
He reached out with his fingernail, nudged the minute hand past the break, and set the watch to the correct time: 8:15 a.m.
He placed the watch down on the table, right beside a second, inexpensive silver wristwatch he had bought the week before—simple, durable, and ticking steadily forward.
Evie turned around, wiping her hands on her yellow apron, and saw what he had done. A slow, radiant smile spread across her face.
“About time,” she said softly.
May you like
Nathan stood up, walked across the polished slate floor, and pulled out a chair for her before sitting down himself.
“Yes,” Nathan said, looking out the open window toward the valley where the fog was finally clearing away to reveal a brilliant, unending horizon. “It really is.”
