“Of course,” the man replied. “I’m not about to leave you out here at midnight in a snowstorm. Heard it was going to get worse in the next hour. Where is it exactly you’re heading towards?”

Emily was overwhelmed with gratitude. “West Street. Number Fifteen.”

The man cocked his head to the side with curiosity. “Fifteen West Street? That old, beat-up house?”

“Yes,” Emily replied. “It belongs to my family. I needed to spend some quiet time to myself.”

The old man shook his head. “I can’t leave you at that place. The house is falling apart. I doubt it’s even watertight. Why don’t you come back to mine? We live above the convenience store, me and my wife, Bertha. We’d be happy to have a guest.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Emily said. “But really I just want to be by myself at the moment. So if you could tow me to West Street I would really appreciate it.”

The old man regarded her for a moment, then finally relented. “All right, missy. If you insist.”

Emily felt a sense of relief as he got back in his truck and drove it in front of hers. She watched as he removed a thick rope from his trunk and tied their two vehicles together.

“Want to ride with me?” he asked. “At the very least I have heat.”

Emily smiled thinly but shook her head. “I’d prefer to – ”

“Be alone,” the old man finished with her. “I get it. I get it.”

Emily got back into her car, wondering what kind of impression she had made on the old man. He must be thinking she was a little mad, turning up underprepared and underdressed at midnight as a snowstorm was about to descend, demanding to be taken to a beat-up, abandoned house so she could be completely alone.

The truck ahead of her rumbled to life and she felt the pull as her car began to be towed. She sat back and glanced out the window as they moved off.

The road that carried her the last couple of miles ran beside the national park on one side and the ocean on the other. Through the darkness and a curtain of falling snow, Emily could see the ocean and the waves crashing against the rocks. Then the ocean disappeared from sight as they headed into the town, past hotels and motels, boat tour companies and golf courses, through the more built up areas, though for Emily it was hardly built up at all compared to New York.

Then they were turning onto West Street and Emily’s heart lurched as they passed the grand red brick, ivy-covered house on the corner. It looked exactly the same as it had the last time she’d been here, twenty years earlier. She passed the blue house, the yellow house, the white house, and then she bit her lip, knowing the next house would be hers, the gray stone house.

As it appeared before her, Emily was struck by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. The last time she’d been here she was fifteen years old, her body raging with hormones at the prospect of a summer romance. She’d never had one, but remembering the thrill of possibility hit her like a wave.

The truck pulled to a stop, and Emily’s car did too.

Before the wheels had even finished turning, Emily was out, standing breathlessly before the house that had once been her father’s. Her legs were shaking and she couldn’t tell if it was from the relief of having finally arrived or the emotion of being back here after so many years. But where the other houses on the street seemed unchanged, her father’s house was a shadow of its former glory. The once white window shutters were now streaked with dirt. Where once they’d stood open, all of them were closed up, making the house look far less inviting than it used to. The grass of the sweeping lawn out front where Emily had spent endless summer days reading novels was surprisingly well kept and the small shrubs either side of the front door were trimmed. But the house itself; she understood the old man’s bemused expression now when she’d told him this was where she was heading. It looked so uncared for, so unloved, falling into disrepair. It made Emily sad to see how much the beautiful old house had decayed over the years.

“Nice house,” the old man said as he drew up beside her.

“Thanks,” Emily said, almost trancelike, with her eyes glued to the old building. Snow fluttered around her. “And thank you for getting me here in one piece,” she added.

“No problem,” the old man replied. “Are you really sure you want to stay here tonight?”

“I’m sure,” Emily replied, though really she was starting to worry that coming here had been a huge mistake.

“Let me help you with your bags,” the man said.

“No, no,” Emily replied. “Honestly, you’ve done enough. I can take it from here.” She rummaged in her pocket and found a crumpled bill. “Here, gas money.”

The man looked at the note then back up at her. “I’m not taking that,” he said, smiling kindly. “You keep your money. If you really want to pay me back, why don’t you come down to mine and Bertha’s some time during your stay and have some coffee and pie?”

Emily felt a lump form in her throat as she stashed the bill back in her pocket. This man’s kindness was a shock to the system after the hostility of New York.

“How long are you planning on staying here anyway?” he added as he handed her a little slip of paper with a phone number and address scrawled on it.

“Just the weekend,” Emily replied, taking the paper from him.

“Well, if you need anything, just give me a call. Or come to the gas station where I work. It’s by the convenience store. Can’t miss us.”

“Thank you,” Emily said again, with as much heartfelt gratitude as she could.

As soon as the noisy engine faded to nothing, the stillness descended over her again and Emily felt a sudden sense of peace. The snow was falling even more now, making the world as silent as silent could be.

Emily returned to her car and grabbed her stuff, then waddled up the pathway with her heavy suitcase in her arms, feeling emotion rising in her chest. When she reached the front door she paused, examining the familiar worn doorknob, remembering her hand turning it a hundred times over. Maybe coming here had been a good idea after all. Oddly, she couldn’t help but feel that she was exactly where she needed to be.

*

Emily stood in the dim hallway of her father’s old house, dust swirling around her, stupidly hoping for warmth but rubbing her shoulders against the cold. She didn’t know what she had been thinking. Had she really expected this old house, neglected for twenty years, to be waiting for her, heated?

She tried the light switch and found that nothing happened.

Of course, she realized. How stupid could she be? Did she expect the electricity to be on and running?

It hadn’t even occurred to her to bring a flashlight. She chided herself. As usual, she had been too hasty and had not taken a moment to plan ahead.

She placed her suitcase down then paced forward, the floorboards creaking beneath her feet; she ran her fingertips along the swirly wallpaper just like she’d done as a little girl. She could even see the smudges she’d made over the years through that very motion. She passed the staircase, a long, wide set of steps in dark wood. It was missing part of the banister but she couldn’t care less. Being back at the house felt beyond restorative.

She tried another light switch out of habit but again, no luck. Then she reached the door at the end of the hallway, which led into the kitchen, and pushed it open.

She gasped as a blast of freezing cold air hit her. She paced inside, the marble floor in the kitchen icy beneath her bare feet.

Emily tried turning the faucets in the sink but nothing happened. She chewed her lip in consternation. No heat, no electricity, no water. What else did the house have in store for her?

She paced around the house, looking for any switches or levers that might control the water, gas, and electricity. In the cupboard under the stairs she found a fuse box, but flicking the switches did nothing. The boiler, she remembered, was down in the basement – but the idea of going down there without any light to lead the way filled her with trepidation. She needed a flashlight or candle, but knew there’d be nothing of the sort in the abandoned house. Still, she checked the kitchen drawers just in case – but they were just full of cutlery.

Panic began to flutter in Emily’s chest and she willed herself to think. She cast her mind back to the times she and her family would spend at the house. She remembered the way her father used to arrange for oil to be delivered to heat the house during the winter months. It drove her mom crazy because it was so expensive and she thought heating an empty house was a waste of money. But Emily’s father had insisted the house needed to be kept warm to protect the pipes.

Emily realized she needed to get some oil delivered if she wanted the house to be warm. But without a signal on her cell phone, she had no idea how she would make that happen.

All at once, there came a knock at the door. It was a heavy, steady, considered knock, one that echoed all the way through the empty corridors.

Emily froze, feeling a jolt of anticipation in her chest. Who could be calling, at this hour, in this snow?

She left the kitchen and padded across the hallway floorboards, silent with her bare feet. Her hand hovered over the knob, and after a second’s hesitation, she managed to pull herself together and open the door.

Standing before her, wearing a plaid jacket, his dark, jaw-length hair peppered with snowflakes, stood a man who Emily couldn’t help but think resembled a lumberjack, or Little Red Riding Hood’s Huntsman. Not her usual type, but there was certainly beauty in his cool, blue eyes, in the stubble on his well-defined chin, and Emily was shocked by the power of her attraction toward him.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

The man squinted at her, as though sizing her up. “I’m Daniel,” he said. He held out his hand for her to shake. She took it, noting the sensation of the rough skin of his hands. “Who are you?”

“Emily,” she replied, suddenly aware of the sensation of her own heartbeat. “My father owns this house. I came for the weekend.”

Daniel’s squint intensified. “The landlord hasn’t been here in twenty years. Did you get permission to just drop by?”

His tone was rough, slightly hostile, and Emily recoiled.

“No,” she said, awkwardly, a little uncomfortable to be reminded of the most painful experience of her life – her father’s disappearance – while being taken aback by Daniel’s gruffness. “But I have his blessing to come and go as I please. What’s it to you anyway?” She matched his rough tone with her own.

“I’m the caretaker here,” he replied. “I live in the carriage house on the grounds.”

“You live here?” Emily cried, her image of a peaceful weekend in her father’s old home shattering before her. “But I wanted to be alone this weekend.”

“Yeah, well, you and me both,” Daniel replied. “I’m not used to people barging in unannounced.” He glanced over her shoulder suspiciously. “And tampering with the property.”

Emily folded her arms. “What makes you think I’ve tampered with the property?”

Daniel raised an eyebrow in response. “Well, unless you were planning on sitting here in the dark and cold all weekend, then I’d expect you to have tampered. Got the boiler running. Drained the pipes. That sort of thing.”

Emily’s gruffness gave way to embarrassment. She blushed.

“You haven’t managed to get the boiler working, have you?” Daniel replied. There was a wry smile on his lips that told Emily he was slightly amused by her predicament.

“I just haven’t had the chance to yet,” she replied, haughtily, trying to save face.

“Want me to show you?” he asked, almost lazily, as though doing so would be no skin off his nose.

“You would?” Emily asked, a little shocked and confused by his offer to help.

He stepped onto the welcome mat. Snowflakes fluttered from his jacket, creating a mini snowstorm in the hallway.

“I’d prefer to do it myself than have you break something,” he said by way of explanation, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug.

Emily noticed that the falling snow outside her open front door had turned into something of a blizzard. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was beyond grateful that Daniel had shown up when he did. If not, she probably would have frozen to death overnight.

She shut the door and the two of them paced along the corridor to the door leading down to the basement. Daniel had come prepared. He pulled out a flashlight, lighting a path down the staircase into the basement. Emily followed him down, a little freaked out by the darkness and cobwebs as she descended into the gloom. She’d been terrified of the old basement as a child and had rarely ventured down there. The place was filled with all the old-fashioned machinery and mechanicals that kept the house working. The sight of them overwhelmed her and made her wonder once again whether coming here had been a mistake.

Thankfully, Daniel started the boiler up in a matter of seconds, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Emily couldn’t help but feel a little put out by the fact she’d needed a man to help her when the very reason she’d come here in the first place was to regain her independence. She realized then that despite Daniel’s rugged hotness and her undeniable attraction toward him, she needed him to leave ASAP. She was hardly going to go on a journey of self-discovery with him in the house. Having him on the grounds was bad enough.

Finished with the boiler, they both left the basement. Emily was relieved to be out of the dank, musty place and back into the main part of the house. She followed Daniel as he went down the hall and into the utility room out the back of the kitchen. Straightaway he got to work draining the pipes.

“Are you prepared to heat the house all winter?” he called to her from his position under the worktop. “Because they’ll freeze otherwise.”

“I’m just staying for the weekend,” Emily replied.

Daniel shuffled out from under the counter and sat up, his hair ruffled and sticking up all over the place. “You shouldn’t mess with an old house like this,” he said, shaking his head.

But he sorted out the water nonetheless.

“So where’s the heat?” Emily asked as soon as he was done. It was still freezing cold, despite the boiler being on and the pipes now unblocked. She rubbed her arms, trying to get the circulation going.

Daniel laughed, cleaning his dirty hands on a towel. “It doesn’t just miraculously start working, you know. You’ll need to call for oil delivery. All I could do is start the thing up.”

Emily sighed with frustration. So Daniel wasn’t quite the Knight in Shining Armor she thought he was.

“Here,” Daniel said, handing her a business card. “That’s Eric’s number. He’ll deliver to you.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. “But I don’t seem to get service out here.”

She thought of her cell phone, of the empty bars, and remembered how wholly alone she really was.

“There’s a pay phone up the road,” Daniel said. “But I wouldn’t risk going there in the middle of a blizzard. And anyway, they’ll be closed now.”

“Of course,” Emily mumbled, feeling frustrated and completely at a loss.

Daniel must have noticed that Emily was put out and feeling dejected. “I can get a fire going for you,” he offered, nodding toward the living room. His eyebrows rose expectantly, almost shyly, making him look suddenly boyish.