Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Just a few things.”
“Off with ye, then. Anything you can’t find, ask. I might have it in the back. Now, if you’re wanting good bread or sweets, I suggest a stop at the bakery.”
I took a basket and browsed, surprised how well stocked the shelves were. I wasn’t planning on cooking a lot, but I got some cold meat, eggs, and their bacon—which I loved here—some canned soup, and I chose several kinds of cheese from the refrigerated section. I added some crackers and more crisps, plus a small container of cream and a package of coffee. Bonnie assured me there was a French press I could use. Mrs. Harris, as she informed me was her name, rang me up and placed the items in two canvas bags. She made sure I knew how to get to the cottage, following me outside and pointing the way.
“To the right by the weather vane. There’s a path. It takes you to the sea. The cottage has another path off it to the left, ye ken? Ye canna miss it.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem, lassie. If you need anything else, we’re here every day.”
I smiled and headed first to the bakery, then down the road. Everyone that I encountered was friendly, smiling and saying hello. The bakery was bursting with delicious smells, and I ended up not only with two loaves of fresh bread, but some buns, tarts, and a few delectable-looking pastries I couldn’t resist. They even had some prepared meals, and I grabbed a couple that tempted me.
Loaded down, I headed to the cottage, laughing to myself. I doubted I would eat all this food. But I wanted it, and for the first time in a long while, I was allowing myself to have it. I had been denied long enough. Told hundreds of times to stop eating and try to be thinner. Have “more pride” in my appearance.
I had finally gotten to the point where I liked how I looked, and if I wanted a sticky bun, I would have one and not feel guilty. It had taken me a long time, but I loved it.
I admired the scenery, finding the path to the water easily. I went over a hill and stopped in astonishment. Before me was endless sea and sky. The lake was blue, gray, and green, waves rolling along the top constantly. The sky was blue today, although I had heard a forecast of possible snow tomorrow.
I turned and looked to the left when I came to the next path. Ahead of me in a little secluded spot was the cottage. It was set against the trees, and the stones were whitewashed and old. I hurried toward it, suddenly anxious to be inside. Set down the bags I carried and sit on that porch. Explore the beach, breathe in the salty air. Listen to the waves.
The stairs were thick and soundless as I went up. The key slid in easily, and the door opened with a low squeak. Inside, I looked around, enchanted.
The pictures hadn’t done it justice. I carried the bags to the counter in the kitchen and set them down. I shrugged off my knapsack. I hurriedly unpacked the groceries, putting everything away in the small fridge and the cupboards. Then I headed outside and took in the views. Listened to the waves and the wind—the only sounds I could hear.
I had to blink away the sudden moisture in my eyes. I needed this. I had no idea how badly I’d needed it until this moment. I walked to the beach and along the pebbly shore. The wind was chilly this time of year, but my coat was warm and I drew up my hood, not wanting to go inside just yet. I looked back at the cottage, hugging myself at the thought of staying here. It was everything I imagined and more.
I was going to love it. I already knew that.
The next night, I curled up in the big chair by the fireplace, the flames crackling in the hearth, the warmth welcome, looking around in wonder. The mantel was substantial, the timber thick, and it shone from years of oil and elbow grease. The floors were smooth under my feet. The kitchen had been updated but still suited the style of the cottage. I had slept better last night than I had in months. I spent the day exploring the beach, walking along the shore, and returning to the village to get more sticky buns and a few other tempting pastries. I added some large potatoes, the idea of baking them in the fire tempting. I got more cream, finding myself drinking more coffee than usual as I sat by the fire. The weather had turned colder in the afternoon, and snow had started falling in the early evening. A huge storm now raged outside, but in here, I was snug and cozy. On the table beside me was a glass of wine and an open bar of chocolate. I had my Kindle and a warm woolen blanket over my knees.