Eliza sat at the small kitchen table, her tea now cold, staring out of the window toward the gravel path that wound through the town. Her thoughts were tangled, unable to break free of the encounter with James Hawthorne. She hadn't expected to meet anyone so soon, let alone someone who had such a commanding presence, even in the brief interaction they'd shared.
James's voice, warm yet distant, echoed in her mind. There had been something almost purposeful in the way he introduced himself, as if he was measuring her every response. The air around him was thick with something she couldn't quite place—an intensity that made her feel both unsettled and curious.
He had seemed polite enough, but there was a certain hesitance in his manner. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye. The way he'd looked at her, almost as if trying to read her, had left her feeling vulnerable, as though he could see through the thin layers of the wall she'd carefully built around herself.
A sigh escaped her lips, and she pushed her chair back from the table, the scrape of wood against the floor loud in the silence. The town was quiet, too quiet, for her liking. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocks below had become a constant, a soft background hum that reminded her of the isolation she had sought when coming here.
The sun was setting now, casting long shadows across the floor of the cottage. Eliza hadn't planned on staying in that night, but the strange encounter had left her feeling out of sorts, unwilling to venture further into a town she didn't fully understand. Instead, she made her way to the small bookshelf by the living room window. The books she'd brought with her were a mix of fiction and poetry—her safe space, her escape from reality.
She pulled a novel from the shelf and sank into the couch, trying to lose herself in the pages. But her mind refused to focus on the words. All she could think of was James.
She'd felt a subtle pull toward him when he'd introduced himself. It wasn't just his good looks—though they were undeniable—but something deeper. Something intangible. The way he carried himself, the weight he seemed to carry in his eyes. It was as if he were holding something back, something heavy that he couldn't quite shake off.
But why would he choose to speak to her, a newcomer to the town? It wasn't as if she stood out in any significant way. She wasn't the type to draw attention. The question nagged at her, spinning around in her head until she finally set the book down, frustrated with her inability to concentrate.
It was then that she heard it—a knock at the door.
Startled, Eliza hesitated for a moment, her pulse quickening. Who could it be this time? Her heart skipped a beat, and she found herself almost wishing it would be James again. Ridiculous, she chided herself. What did she really know about him? He was a stranger.
Reluctantly, she rose to answer the door, half-expecting it to be a neighbor or someone from town offering her help. When she opened it, however, she was met by a woman.
The woman was older than Eliza, perhaps in her late forties, with short, silver-streaked hair and a friendly smile. Her eyes were sharp, yet there was a softness to them that immediately put Eliza at ease.
"Hi there, I'm Caroline Simmons," she said, extending her hand. "I live just down the road, and I noticed you moved in today. I wanted to stop by and welcome you to Windward Bay."
Eliza smiled in return, relieved to see a friendly face. "Thank you. I'm Eliza Porter. It's nice to meet you."
Caroline's eyes twinkled as she stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, her presence filling the small cottage. "I thought I'd bring over some fresh muffins from the bakery in town. It's a little thing, but when you're new around here, everyone appreciates a warm welcome."
Eliza's heart lifted. It had been a long time since anyone had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome. She took the plate of muffins gratefully, trying not to show the relief she felt.
"Thank you. That's very kind of you," Eliza said, placing the plate on the kitchen counter.
Caroline gave a warm laugh, her gaze lingering on the small, rustic space. "This place is lovely. I imagine it's exactly what you need—a little escape from the hustle and bustle of city life, hmm?"
Eliza nodded, her thoughts momentarily drifting to her old life. "It is. I needed a change of scenery after… well, everything."
Caroline raised an eyebrow, as though sensing there was more to Eliza's words than she was letting on, but she didn't press further. "We all need that sometimes. Windward Bay has a way of bringing people back to themselves. It's quiet, but there's something about the town that makes you feel like you belong here, even if you've only just arrived."
Eliza smiled politely, although her mind was already racing. She hadn't intended to spill her troubles to a stranger, but there was something about Caroline's presence that made Eliza feel like maybe, just maybe, she could.
Caroline's keen eyes softened as she continued, "I won't keep you long. I just wanted to make sure you knew that if you ever need anything—whether it's directions, a cup of tea, or just someone to talk to—I'm here. The town may be small, but we look out for each other."
Eliza swallowed the lump in her throat, touched by the sincerity in Caroline's voice. It felt strange, almost foreign, to be cared for in such an unspoken way. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time.
"I appreciate that," Eliza said, her voice quiet but genuine. "I'm sure I'll take you up on that offer soon."
Caroline smiled warmly, giving her a nod before turning to leave. "I'll let you get settled in. But don't be a stranger, okay?"
After Caroline had gone, Eliza stood in the doorway for a moment, the weight of the woman's kindness still lingering in the air. She closed the door gently behind her and turned to face the cottage once more. The town of Windward Bay seemed less foreign now, more like a place she could call home, even if only for a little while.
As she set the plate of muffins down on the kitchen table, Eliza couldn't help but think of James again. He hadn't said much when they spoke, but something in the way he looked at her—like he was sizing her up, trying to figure her out—had stuck with her.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just her mind filling in the gaps, but she couldn't shake the feeling that their paths would cross again soon.
And when they did, she would be ready to understand why.