A Garden in Cornwall (A Wedding in Cornwall Book 12)
With their lives exactly what they've always dreamed, Matt and Julianne await the arrival of the third member of their family — but their happiness is threatened when their landlady Mathilda announces her intention to sell their beloved Rosemoor Cottage for an impossible value. Devastated, Julianne struggles to accept the cold reality of her and Matt making their home elsewhere.
Matt's life has taken a new turn as he finally puts aside his academic work to pursue his gardening hobby as a career: his first new job as a landscape designer involves neglected Penwill Hall's 'lost' garden — one with a truly romantic Cornish past. But the task of restoring its legendary beauty from nearly seventy years ago proves difficult among the ruins lost in weeds and wilderness.
With notions of secret gardens and wartime stories echoing in her thoughts, Julianne is determined to help Matt and the estate’s new owner after the discovery of a hidden mural in the hall itself, depicting a breathtaking garden that may well be the lost one. Her efforts to uncover the past lead her to a curmudgeonly local gardener who just may hold the knowledge that would restore the 'lost garden' to its former glory. Will Julianne's quest help her find a way to deal with losing the home she loves?
Hellos and farewells abound as Dinah returns to lend a helping hand at Cliffs House and Julianne relives her favourite memories of her and Matt's beloved cottage in Book Twelve — the final instalment in the bestselling series A WEDDING IN CORNWALL.
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A big thank you to Nicole for inviting me to share an extract from my novella A Garden in Cornwall! It is the last book in my series about plucky American event planner Julianne who finds a new life in Cornwall. In this scene, Julianne is struggling to face the reality that she and her husband Matt may be losing the beloved cottage they’ve come to think of as home:
Be rational, Julianne. It's just a house. I curled up on the bed, closing my eyes to block the escape of tears. I had packed up my possessions here once before. I put everything I loved into boxes, and locked this door for what could have been the last time when Matt and I moved to Seattle for a few months. The whole time I had been hoping to come back, but what if we hadn't? Would I have fallen apart like this if Mathilda had found another permanent tenant while we were gone, and Matt and I had been forced to find a new place to live?
Be rational. Think of the future and the baby. Think of the possibility of more children, and the need for more room. Matt was probably right — adding one small bedroom would be difficult, much less two. Our lives would be too crowded in five or six tiny rooms filled with shabby furniture and random knickknacks. Even if those tiny rooms were ones that we loved madly and deeply.
I put my hand over my stomach. At this rate, our baby wouldn't ever be part of this place. Its first night under our roof would be spent in a different house, whatever we could find before the year was over. No first word from our baby in this house; no first Christmas, no first crawl across the moth-eaten Oriental carpet in our parlor, the way I had imagined in the weeks following my discovery that I was pregnant.
A couple of tears escaped now. I sniffed, trying to pull them back, knowing I shouldn't cry. How could something this insignificant to the fate of the universe make me so unhappy? We weren't homeless, we weren't destitute, and if we moved somewhere else, we could guarantee our baby would have a roof over its head — and room for a cradle that wasn't an open drawer in our bureau, too.
Crying combined with the biscuits I had sneaked in the kitchen made me feel ill. I wondered if I should get up now to throw up, or wait until the rest of the suppressed tears finished sneaking down my throat.
The door opened, letting in some light from the parlor into our drape-darkened bedroom. "Are you all right, Juli?" Matt asked, softly.
I knew he probably sensed I was crying. That made me feel worse. "I'm fine," I said. I didn't roll over to face him, so he couldn't see any of the tear tracks on my cheeks, in case they hadn't quite dried. "I just feel a little tired today. The baby's stealing half my energy, you know."
The bed creaked as Matt settled on its edge behind me, the mattress sinking a little deeper beneath his weight. "It will be all right," he said. I felt his hand stroke my hair, a slow, gentle touch. "Remember that promise. I will keep it, Julianne. I know it seems difficult right now ... but we'll find a solution. No matter what happens, we'll be happy in the future."
"I know." I managed not to sound choked up as I answered. "I trust you. Honest I do." I held up two fingers, scout's honor fashion. I felt Matt's hand close over mine, holding tight to it.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked. "Chamomile? Peppermint?"
To soothe my stomach, I imagined. He knew me better than I did. "That would be nice," I said. "Thanks."
"I'll go make you one." He smoothed my hair once more, then rose to his feet. "I think there are a few digestive biscuits in the cupboard as well."
I wiped away the tear streaks on my cheek as soon as he was gone. Sitting up, I rested my cheek against the cool metal of our wrought iron headboard. It wasn't really ours, I thought, because it had been in this cottage when Matt moved in years ago. It would have to stay behind when we left.
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