Grace felt very restless that evening. Even spending time sitting in Aine's over-sized chair didn't help to comfort her. She paced the cottage. Walked in and out of the kitchen as if she thought she might do some cooking, but there was nothing she needed, or wanted, to prepare. She felt like the cottage was closing in on her.
It was still a little light out, so she decided that the roses in the garden could use a little watering. That might help her to settle down. As she moved from bush to bush she recalled the names of the roses. This was not something she would have ever known in Dublin. Small flat, with a small kitchen, and no garden. Would she feel closed in when she got back there?
She looked up to see Donovan peering out his window. He didn't come out, just shook his head and walked away closing the curtain. He was still upset about her selling the cottage. She needed to rectify this situation, but at the moment didn't know how. Once the garden was watered Grace went back into the cottage and headed upstairs to shower thinking that a hot shower would help her settle down from the news of earlier today.
Grace tried to convince herself that she was feeling better after the shower, but she knew she was only fooling herself. A wee bit of some whiskey would help, that's for sure. It was a bit more than a wee bit when Grace had finished off a good portion and headed to bed hoping the whiskey would do it's job and let her get a good night's sleep.
A restful sleep was not to be had this night. It was full of visions of Aine and visits to the cottage as a young girl. And somewhere in those visions she caught a glimpse of Sheila and Peter as a young couple. They were vibrant and happy as they walked through the garden. Smiling and very much in love.
Grace dreamed about seeing Aine and Donovan chatting at the stone wall, Donovan much younger with a twinkle in his eye. She dreamed of the hum of a busy cottage full of guests chatting with each other, laughing, dancing to the phonograph, and sitting in a quiet corner writing. There was so much life to the cottage. What had she done?
It must have been around 4:00am when Grace dragged herself out of bed. She ached all over from tossing and turning all night. She went downstairs and curled up in Aine's chair with a notepad and pen. As was her best strength, she needed a plan and the one she had was not going to work. It was time to open her mind to some different options.
Grace was due to head back to Dubin in 2 days and had an appointment with a property consultant that afternoon. She needed information to make a plan and hoped that meeting with the property consultant would help. She brewed a strong cup of tea and started her list of questions.
As she worked on questions that needed answers, her body finally relaxed and she dozed off until the sun came streaming through the window. Her tea was cold, but she felt at least somewhat refreshed with the few hours of restful sleep. Still with no definite resolution as to what she would do, she washed up and started her day with a recipe of scones for Peter when he came over that evening. As she made the scones she smiled remember back just over a week that she could barely make these and Peter had helped.
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