He didn’t over hear her. If he had he probably would have told her of course she would, and whoever it was she may end up with would be the luckiest man on the planet and no he was by no means hopefully talking about himself.
“Like I said, a lot of people here have been out here for a real, real long time. That house,” he gestures back to the one they just left, “has been in the Maple family name for over sixty years now.”
She looked back over her shoulder at the lovely home, imagining a simpler time with children running around, probably on sleds. It was like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. “Wow..so your grandparent’s used to live in that house…I think that’s really nice..a house with history, you know? It gives it character.”
“It does have a lot of character.” Jack said with a nod, before a small smile crossed his face and wriggled a few fingers at her. “And ghost stories.”
Jack Maple 