How to Knit a Love Song Read Online Free Page A

marks. Abigail felt as if she’d suddenly climbed one of the oak trees to find herself in a magic tree house.
    She knew without having to ask Cade that his great-aunt sat up here, knitting, for hours on end. This room had the feeling, the spirit of Eliza. Abigail longed to go get her needles and her current project: a man’s Guernsey she was designing in dark red handspun merino. Or better yet, she could get her spinning wheel, and sit up here, looking out at the countryside and sea. But she’d have to bring that stuff through the frightening first floor, and then fight to find the space up here to put it down.
    Maybe she’d beat a retreat right now and go somewhere to think about all this, about how to start.
    Really, she ought to open a box or a bag. Start clearing out all the crap she had just inherited.
    As she tried to talk herself into getting started, she heard a loud knock from downstairs. She barely stifled the scream that rose in her throat.
    “You okay in there?” Cade yelled into the living room.
    Abigail took a moment to breathe, to still the frantic beat of her heart.
    “I’m up here!”
    “You okay?”
    “I’m coming down,” she called.
    Abigail made her way down the staircase and through the boxes, out to the porch, where he stood.
    “I found the house key. You can make a copy of it.” He held it out for her, but Abigail was suspicious.
    “Why?”
    “If something in here doesn’t work. Did you check the water? I think it’s been off for years.” He looked down at his boot and scowled. “You might have to use my bathroom.”
    Abigail nodded. “Yeah. Water’s not on.”
    “You really going to sleep here?”
    “Sure,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Especially if I can use your house for the toilet and a shower until I get things fixed up around here. That would be great.”
    “It’s a wreck. She’d come up a couple of times a year, and bring more boxes or bags, loading them in by herself, refusing all help.”
    “You don’t know what’s in them? You never looked?”
    “Nope. I’m sure it’s trash. Just more of Eliza’s craziness.”
    “She may have been a little eccentric, but she was never crazy. If she brought that stuff here, she had a reason.”
    Cade stepped in the door, and opened the box nearest him. “See? Nothing but newspaper. Saving it for Armageddon or something.”
    Abigail’s heart sank at the sight of the yellowed paper in the box. “Maybe she was a little crazy. But not much. Not really.”
    “Whatever you say.”
    Abigail stepped out of the house, onto the porch, into the sun. Cade followed.
    He leaned against the railing, then thumped the porch with the heel of his boot. “This place was built thirty years after the big house, about 1904. As far as I know, it’s sound, never had any problem with rot, but you should get that looked at. The chimney’s cracked and needs cleaning. The toilet isn’t seated right, and the tile floor in both the bathroom and the kitchen needs redoing. I think there’s carpeting under all that crap, and I can’t even begin to guess how long that’s been in there. I have no idea about the appliances in the kitchen, but I can guess they’re going to need some work.”
    Abigail took a breath and stood up straighter. She made her voice light. “Well, shoot. That’s not too bad, is it? I can have that all fixed by tonight.”
    Cade looked at her. He didn’t smile. Then he leaned forward and gripped the stair rail. “She loved this old cottage. I asked her every time she drove up if she wanted me to start work in here yet. She’d tell me to keep my grubby paws off it, that she was saving it for special.”
    He stepped off the porch, moving out into the yard, and said, “Really, it’s going to take months, if it’s just you. You should hire professionals to clean it out and fix it up. I know some guys.”
    “I can do a lot of it myself. Eliza would like that.”
    His look of disbelief was clear, one eyebrow