“This is a cozy house—with a spectacular view.” She gave the space an appreciative sweep, her gaze lingering on the vista of the sea through the large bay window that took up much of the back wall. “I wonder why no one lives here?”

He wasn’t obligated to respond to her rhetorical question. But he found himself answering anyway.

“The story I heard is that a husband and wife from Kansas were building it as a retirement home. When she died suddenly during the construction, he didn’t have the heart to finish it—or sell it. It fell into disrepair, and after he passed away, the property was tied up in probate for a long while. Someone bought it from the heirs several years ago, cleaned it up—but never moved in.”

“Why not?” She pivoted back to him, forehead wrinkled.

Jack shrugged. “Whoever owns it may be holding it as an investment. The property will only go up in value.”

“It’s such a shame to leave it sitting here empty.” Her features softened as she took another look around. “This is the kind of house that should be filled with love and laughter.”

He agreed—but he didn’t have to tell her about his futile attempt to buy the place, or his rebuffed proposal to rent with first dibs to purchase if it ever was for sale.

“The owner—or owners—can do what they want.”

“Are they local?”

“I have no idea. No one does. The property is handled by a management firm.”

Her brow crinkled again. “Why would the owner be secretive?”

“Like I said, it may be someone who views this as an investment and prefers to remain anonymous. Assuming they live in the area, it would be less awkward to negotiate a higher price if personalities are left out of the equation.” He motioned toward the door. “Shall we?”

She toted her belongings past him, stopping to examine the sea glass sidelights illuminated by the rising sun. “These are beautiful.”

“They’re why this place is called Sea Glass Cottage.” He didn’t have to say anything more—but he seemed to have a case of motor mouth today. “According to the story I heard, the original owner created these for his wife using pieces of sea glass they gathered during their walks on the beaches here. Apparently they vacationed in Hope Harbor for years before they bought this land.”

She juggled the bedding in her arms to trace around one of the opaque aquamarine-colored pieces with her fingertip. “What a thoughtful gift.”

He steeled himself against the sweet smile curving her supple lips. “Not in the same league as a piece of Tiffany jewelry, though.”

“No. It’s better.”

Was she kidding? Tiffany’s had always been her go-to store for bling.

He watched her as she examined the sidelights. There wasn’t a trace of artifice in her demeanor. Only appreciation for the workmanship—and the sentiment.

Curious.