The Landlords Secret Desire

An Olive Branch Among the Roses

The sun hung high in the sky, its warmth melting away the lingering morning chill. Clara stretched by her cottage window, her fingers smudged with charcoal from a morning spent sketching. She was just contemplating a break when a knock at the door startled her.

She opened it to find Nicholas standing there, a wicker picnic basket in one hand and Trouble perched precariously on his shoulder. The sight was so absurd it took Clara a moment to process.

“Good afternoon,” Nicholas said with a sheepish smile. “I come bearing peace offerings.”

Clara crossed her arms, eyeing the basket. “And what exactly are you apologizing for?”

Nicholas shifted, looking genuinely contrite. “Victoria’s behavior the other day. She… doesn’t always know when to stop. I should have stepped in sooner.”

Clara studied him for a moment before letting a small smile slip through. “You’re forgiven… if the contents of that basket are as good as they look.”

Nicholas grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, there’s a perfect spot by the rose garden.”

The rose garden was as picturesque as ever, the blooms in full array of reds, yellows, and pinks. Nicholas spread out a plaid blanket under the shade of an ancient oak tree, setting the basket in the center.

Clara sat down, the scent of roses mingling with the earthy aroma of the freshly cut grass. Trouble had hopped down from Nicholas’s shoulder and was now investigating the perimeter like a self-important guard.

“What’s on the menu?” Clara asked, peering curiously at the basket.

Nicholas began unpacking. “Fresh baguettes, cheese, fruit, and some chocolate truffles I may or may not have bought to bribe you into forgiving me.”

Clara laughed. “You’re really going all out, huh?”

He shrugged, handing her a plate. “I’m determined to make amends. Plus, I figured you could use a break.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of chirping birds and Trouble’s occasional squawks filling the air. Clara found herself relaxing, the tension of the past few days melting away.

“So,” Nicholas said, breaking the quiet, “how’s the book coming along?”

Clara sighed, picking at a piece of bread. “It’s… getting there. My editor and I had a bit of a disagreement. She wants faster results, but I don’t want to rush the process.”

Nicholas nodded thoughtfully. “Creativity doesn’t work on a schedule. It’s admirable that you’re standing your ground.”

“Thanks,” Clara said, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the sun. “It’s just hard not to doubt myself sometimes. Especially when the stakes feel so high.”

“Doubt is normal,” Nicholas said. “But it’s clear you’re passionate about what you do. That’s what matters.”

Clara looked at him, struck by the sincerity in his tone. “You’re surprisingly good at pep talks, you know that?”

He chuckled. “I’ve had practice. Running an estate like this comes with its own set of doubts and challenges. You learn to push through.”

They fell into an easy rhythm of conversation, talking about everything from their favorite childhood books to Nicholas’s adventures in trying to manage the unruly peacocks. Clara found herself laughing more than she had in days, the weight of her deadlines momentarily forgotten.

As the afternoon wore on, Nicholas leaned back against the oak tree, his gaze thoughtful. “You know, Victoria wasn’t always so… intense.”

Clara blinked at the sudden shift in tone. “Oh?”

“When we first met, she was… different. Passionate, yes, but not the way she is now. Somewhere along the way, things changed.” He hesitated, then added, “I think she’s struggling to let go of what we used to have.”

Clara didn’t know what to say. Part of her wanted to ask why he was telling her this, but the vulnerability in his voice stopped her.

“It’s not your responsibility to fix her,” she said softly.

Nicholas looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “I know. But it’s hard not to feel like I owe her something.”

Clara reached out, placing a hand on his. “You’re allowed to move on, Nicholas. You deserve to be happy, too.”

He held her gaze, the air between them charged with something unspoken. For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them beneath the shade of the oak tree.

Then Trouble squawked loudly, flapping his wings as if to remind them he was still there. The spell was broken, and they both laughed, the tension dissolving into the late afternoon breeze.

“Thank you for this,” Clara said as they packed up the picnic. “I needed it more than I realized.”

“Anytime,” Nicholas replied, his smile warm. “Consider it a standing offer.”

As they walked back toward the cottages, Clara felt a flicker of something she hadn’t dared to name before: hope. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone in this as she thought.