Chapter One: A Mysterious Stranger Appears

Volume Three: Old Magic, Wounded Hearts and Gin at Sunset When the Veil Thins at Wyndhaven

Concept and Art Design by Doris von Tettenborn

Volume Three Old Magic, Wounded Hearts and Gin at Sunset When the Veil Thins at Wyndhaven

Somewhere in central British Columbia where mountains whisper to the lakes,

a magical Forest bestows miracles on its visitors.

Conditions subject to change.

**Chapter One A Mysterious Stranger Appears

**Returning and new staff keep busy until 5:00 pm gin and tonic gathering on the verandah.

The Okanagan Valley in early October blazed with color. The hillsides were carpeted with trees painted copper, amber and deep red, bright against mountains that faded into purple and blue in the distance. Okanagan Lake had deepened to a pewter stillness, reflecting the shorter days and the long shadows that crept across the water each afternoon.

The grape harvest was nearly finished. Along the valley roads, the last heavy clusters were being gathered from the vines and carried away to be crushed, pressed and transformed in cool, fragrant wineries. Banners announced harvest dinners, autumn festivals and final tastings before winter. Visitors wandered through farm markets beneath strings of lights, carrying apples, pumpkins and bottles wrapped carefully in paper.

The days could still be warm, particularly when the afternoon sun rested on the hillsides, but the nights had grown cool enough for frost to settle in the low places. Sunset came with shocking speed. One moment the lake shone beneath a clear golden sky; the next, the sun had slipped behind the mountains, the water had darkened and everyone was reaching for a sweater.

Wyndhaven sat in the middle of all this and looked as though it had been there longer than anything else and intended to stay.

It was a large house by any measure, three stories of stone and old-growth timber, with tall windows that caught the morning light and held it in the rooms like something collected and saved. A wide verandah wrapped around the front and south side, furnished with deep chairs and small tables that understood the value of standing still.

The gardens stretched from the front steps to the tree line in a series of terraces and beds. By October, they had the fragile, exhausted beauty of a garden that had given almost everything it had and was finally being allowed to rest. Perennials had been cut back, fallen leaves tucked around tender roots and beds covered with mulch against the coming winter. Red roses still lifted their heads here and there, particularly when Wyndhaven decided someone needed to be showered with petals.

The kitchen garden remained fragrant with herbs, though most had been harvested and hung to dry. A pumpkin or two still poked through the broad leaves, overlooked or deliberately spared, while the last tomatoes ripened slowly against a stone wall.

Beyond the gardens, Dreamweaver Forest began.

It began the way old forests often did, with a gradual thickening. The ornamental trees at the edge of the garden gave way to larger cedar, fir and pine. The light softened as the canopy closed overhead, and the ground became deep with moss, fallen needles and generations of leaves slowly returning themselves to the earth.

Together, the gardens and forest covered twenty acres, crossed by creeks, stone paths and small wooden bridges. Hidden among them were unexpected clearings, an old cabin and three secluded homes whose occupants Duchess had discovered while exploring the grounds of her new property. Over the following months, Mabel and Angus, the elderly caretakers; Grace, a Wiccan witch living in a beguiling purple cottage; and Zeb, the forest hermit, had become neighbors and friends rather than strangers living quietly beyond her windows.

Duchess had bought Wyndhaven while searching for a new direction in her life. She had not planned to open a retreat, nor had she expected the house to gather people around it as though choosing them for itself. Yet, with the help of an unlikely collection of friends, she had begun turning Wyndhaven into a place for people who needed rest, refuge or room to begin again.

The first retreat had ended only the day before.

The guests had returned to their homes carrying whatever comfort, confusion or courage they had found with them. They had left behind friendships, upheaval, several unanswered questions and enough information to help make some life-changing decisions.

Not everyone who came to Wyndhaven had left.

Angus had flown to Scotland, inheriting a castle from his father, who stubbornly held on to it until he was 107 years old. His wife Mabel had moved into Wyndhaven House and stayed to become House Manager. Jacob had spent the summer overseeing the construction of the guest cabins and had finally claimed a permanent home in the best cabin, the one he built for himself, without even realizing it.

George, an elderly wizard who was grieving his wife Nancy who had died some months previously, had arrived as a guest hoping to mend his wounded heart in ten days. Life and grief don’t work that way. But he decided to stay longer when his magic, which had died with Nancy, had slowly begun awakening in the peace and beauty of Dreamweaver Forest. He had claimed a cabin where he first met Zeb and his cat Mia, and where the three of them had spent long, quiet hours, whittling beside the campfire.

Then there was the unexpected arrival of Lucas.

Duchess had first seen him the previous evening, sitting alone at the end of the dock while the staff rested around the fire pit after the departure of the last guest.

They had been exhausted. The first retreat had asked more of every one of them than they had expected, and the quiet that followed had drawn a sigh of relief from the entire group. Duchess had been content to sit beside the fire and watch the late light fade across the lake until she noticed the stranger on the dock.

She went down to meet him and returned a short while later with Lucas walking beside her. Misty, who had apparently reached her own conclusions about him, was curled cozily in his arms, purring against his chest.

“Jacob,” Duchess said when they reached the verandah. “Meet Lucas, our new art instructor.”

Jacob looked from Duchess to the unfamiliar man and back again.

“Zeb sent him,” she added.

His expression cleared, slightly.

Duchess turned to Lucas. “And this is Jacob, our — ”

“New caretaker, if you’ll have me,” Jacob said.

Duchess laughed out loud.

The words sounded so right that she wondered if they had been sitting in a corner of her mind all along, waiting for Jacob to say them first.

He had fit into life at Wyndhaven from the beginning, quietly becoming part of the household rather than remaining the outside contractor hired to complete the cabins. He joined them for meals, fixed whatever needed fixing and stepped into every unexpected crisis as though he had always belonged there.

Still, Duchess had assumed he would eventually move on to his next project, perhaps somewhere construction work continued through the winter. She had imagined him living as he always had, following jobs and seasons wherever they led him.

Instead, Jacob proposed a salary that included accommodation, and Duchess accepted before either of them could reconsider. She offered him the cottage Mabel had once shared with Angus, noting he would likely need to modernize it.

Jacob glanced across the grounds toward the last guest cabin, almost hidden within its own small grove of trees. He and his crew had preserved more of the forest around that cabin than any of the others.

“I’d prefer the far cabin, if you have no objection.” He pushed his cap back and grinned. “I can still renovate Mabel’s cottage. Just as soon as I finish the Cat Retreat for Misty and her new friends.”

The Cat Retreat had begun as one of Jacob’s more secretive projects in the trees behind Wyndhaven. He had not managed to keep it secret for long.

With Wyndhaven and Misty apparently contributing suggestions, the structure had grown increasingly elaborate. New ideas appeared in Jacob’s sketchbook, and whatever he found there, he did his best to build.

Duchess and Jacob shook hands.

She turned back to Lucas, who still held Misty as though they had known each other for years.

“Let’s find you a room for tonight,” she said. “In the morning, you can tell us more about what you and Zeb have planned for the art classes. We have a sunlit room upstairs that two of our previous guests used as an art studio. Jan and Sylvia left most of the easels and supplies behind.”

Lucas glanced toward the upper windows of Wyndhaven.

“It will require good light.”

“We have plenty of that.”

“And space.”

The house gave a soft creak behind them.

Lucas smiled.

Now, on the first morning after the retreat, Duchess stood in the dining room and listened to furniture being dragged across the floor above her.

Lucas had found his studio.

Jacob had found his home.

The guests had gone, and the people who remained were beginning to settle into their new places.

Before Duchess opened Wyndhaven’s doors to another group of strangers, the household needed time to recover its balance.

George paid for a month in advance and moved his things into one of the cabins. He took a day trip home to close off his house and forward his mail and newspaper. He shut the door behind him and drove back to his cabin in Dreamweaver Forest with a big grin on his face. He stopped in Orchard Bay to stock up on a few snacks, some craft beer and the best jackknife he could find. He couldn’t wait for Zeb to check it out.

Jacob drove back to his apartment in Orchard Bay for the last time that evening. In the morning, he parked his truck in the driveway beside his cabin in Dreamweaver Forest. The truck fit in the driveway like it was made for it, much like everything else in his cabin.

Jacob’s cabin, the largest, had a few extra flourishes. He hadn’t consciously built himself a new home. He had simply built it the way he would have liked and Duchess had approved the changes, anticipating some guests might like to stay longer than a week.

His stops in Orchard Bay echoed George’s — his preferred snacks, some Kettle Creek craft beer, but also a bookshelf. And, after considerable arguing with himself, a dog bowl.

Finally, he laid the new WELCOME mat in front of his door. His stomach clenched and he closed his eyes for a few moments and sighed deeply.

Lucas told them he was Dr. Lucas Hayashi, PhD in Art Therapy. He had spent over a decade at a Buddhist monastery in the B.C. Interior, taking university classes and travelling throughout his tenure. Eventually, he had left for good to fulfill the internship portion of his PhD and had since worked both as a therapist and an accomplished artist.

Neither he nor Duchess could imagine a better outcome — for either of them, for the retreat or for Zeb who had summoned Lucas out of retirement to teach art and offer therapy in such a beautiful setting. Wyndhaven was happy to prepare a suite for him in the house, but nobody even suggested it. He quickly gravitated to a cabin in the woods. The natural beauty and the solitude suited him.

He shrugged, glanced up at the third-floor window of the art studio and waved. The curtains fluttered and the light burned brightly. “I prefer to keep private life and work life separate.”

Willow stared out at the still lake, the evening cooling quickly. “You know, that’s a great idea.” She was silent for a moment. “Mabel, do you mind if I move into your cute little stone cottage?”

The staff kept busy catching up on personal things like shopping, laundry, maybe reading another chapter in that mystery book they never had time for. Time was also set aside to prepare for the next group of guests. By 5:00 p.m. each afternoon, everyone gravitated to the verandah or the fire pit down by the beach for the unofficial gin and tonic gathering.

Three days later, Mabel and the new cleaning staff had scrubbed Wyndhaven from top to bottom. The House glowed with pride. Lights flashed on and off inside and out, fairy lights sparkled along the eaves, and red roses appeared along the stone path.

By the time the first car turned onto the drive, everyone had settled into their new places and Wyndhaven had settled around them.

The sound of tires crunching over gravel travelled across the lawns.

Wyndhaven’s next guest had arrived.

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