Chapter 4
Sometime in the middle of the night, the electricity came back to life.
When Riva woke up early the next morning, her alarm clock’s digits were flashing.
Outside, the sun was just rising into clear blue skies.
Feeling hopeful for a better day, she opened the French doors in the master bedroom and peeked into the backyard.
Her relief was mixed with dismay. The yard was littered with broken tree limbs and a few odd items that must’ve blown in last night.
Still wearing her rumpled clothes from yesterday, she began to pick things up, making a pile of branches and debris near the gate.
Finally satisfied with the slight improvement, she brushed off her grimy hands on the back of her blue jeans and really gave her yard a good look.
The state of her neglected garden beds was still dismal.
Paul, bless his heart, would not approve.
After his illness and treatments weakened him, Riva had discouraged him from even coming out here.
It had been too depressing . . . for both of them.
And even last year, after he passed, she could hardly drag herself out to mow the lawn or do the most basic chores.
She remembered how, only yesterday, Windy had raved about the “beautiful” yard.
Of course, she’d been looking at it from the second floor.
Up close were weedy beds, overgrown berry bushes, broken planters, and crabgrass that was taking over the fence line.
Riva took a deep breath. Well, her yard might be a disaster area, but at least the clouds were gone and the air was clean and clear.
And with her electricity back on, she could now charge her phone and brew a pot of coffee.
As she went inside, she remembered last night’s decision to take in boarders.
Of course, that choice had been made in the thick of the storm.
But in the light of day? Was that peace still with her now? Maybe so . . .
She gazed out the window above the sink as she ground coffee beans.
From this vantage point, the yard looked better but still nothing like it used to look.
At one time it had been so beautiful that Kenzie often claimed to want her wedding out there.
Riva shook her head. Not that her career-driven daughter had any plans of getting married anytime soon.
Although it would be fun to still have this house when the big event happened.
If it happened. And what about when Brent came home on leave next winter?
Riva went to her phone, shot off a short text to Kenzie, asking how her flight went.
Kenzie’s reply was brief. It was a good flight and New York was great.
So Riva decided to test the waters with her opinionated daughter.
What did she think of her mom taking in female boarders?
To Riva’s surprise, Kenzie thought it was a great way for Riva to keep the family home.
And then Kenzie had to go—busy day ahead.
Nice that her daughter already had things to do, a life to live .
. . more than Riva could claim these days.
But if all her rooms were rented, where would her kids stay when they came to visit?
Of course, if she didn’t rent rooms, she might not even have a house to visit.
What a dilemma. She could save her downstairs guest room exclusively for her kids.
That is, if they ever came home again . .
. and if she really wanted to go through with this harebrained idea of taking in tenants.
The doorbell interrupted her conflicting thoughts. Who would be calling this early? She turned on the coffeemaker, then went to answer the door. To her surprise it was Laurel and Windy and a man with a head of bushy charcoal gray hair.
“Hello?” she said as she opened the door wider.
“We were worried about you,” Laurel said.
“We called and called, but your phone didn’t seem to be working,” Windy added.
Riva slapped her forehead. “I’m just charging it now, but it was dead overnight and I lost power.”
“We thought the storm might’ve gotten the best of you last night,” Laurel said with a twinkle in her eyes. “Were you scared by it?”
“It was pretty wild,” Riva admitted.
“Some of the lightning hits sounded very close.” Windy squinted up at the tall roofline. “And with your tall house here on the hill. Well, you never know.”
“We were walking over to Starbucks for coffee this morning and decided to check on you.”
“Well, thank you for thinking of me.” Riva openly stared at the man, wondering who he was, how he fit into this picture, and whether she should invite the three of them inside. Was this a social visit or just a wellness check?
“I’m sorry, Riva. This is Marcus Millican,” Windy said suddenly. “My big brother. He offered to help get me started preparing for my move—if I ever find a place. He was meeting us for coffee so I just invited him to come over here with us.”
Marcus stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Riva. I’ve heard good things about you . . . and your beautiful home.”
“Marcus.” Windy elbowed him. “You weren’t supposed to say that. Poor Riva will think I’m moving in on her before she’s had a chance to decide.” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m really not. I just need to start getting out of my apartment.”
“Sorry, Riva. I realize you haven’t made up your mind.” Marcus winked at his sister. “But it sounds like a good plan to me. Plus, it’ll keep Windy from camping out on my couch.”
“I was actually just thinking over the whole thing . . . while I was making coffee. Do you guys want to come in for a cup? I rather absentmindedly made a full pot just now.”
“Seems you were expecting us,” Laurel teased. “And since we never made it to Starbucks, I would gladly take you up on the offer.”
The others chimed in their agreement, and as they followed Riva through the house, back to her kitchen, Windy pointed out various historical highlights of the house’s architecture to her brother.
“As you can see, the woodwork looks fairly original,” she told him.
“And the only big upgrades were done in the kitchen and the baths, and it was very tastefully done.”
“Refreshing that they didn’t change everything like some homeowners,” he said.
“And you should see the library,” Laurel told him. “It’s amazing.”
“I’d love to,” he said. “Wow, nice kitchen.”
“Thanks.” Riva set four coffee mugs on her marble countertop.
“And Riva said she doesn’t even like to cook,” Windy told Marcus.
“Well, I used to like it,” Riva said. “Just not so much in the last few years.”
“Try cooking in our apartments and you’ll give up cooking altogether,” Laurel said in a gloomy tone.
As Riva set out creamer and sugar, she wished she had something else to offer her impromptu guests. She used to make some pretty mean cinnamon rolls. But not in recent years. Windy continued to rave about how well the kitchen was designed.
“And it’s so nice you kept it separate like it was originally,” Marcus told Riva. “A lot of people are knocking down walls in these old homes to create great rooms, but it always feels like a compromise to the home’s historical integrity to me.”
Riva poured coffee as Windy gazed out the bay window into Riva’s still unkempt backyard. “But really, why would anyone want more space than you have in here?” she asked. “It’s roomy yet cozy. It’s perfect.”
“I’ve always liked it.” Riva handed each of them a coffee.
“We can take our coffee to the library.” She was smiling, but as she led them to her library, she wondered if she was getting in too deep with Windy.
It was one thing to have her home admired, but it seemed that Windy was growing increasingly more hopeful about actually living here. Was Riva really ready for that?
“What a room,” Marcus gushed as he walked around, sipping his coffee and taking in the shelves of books. “This is fabulous. You know how many people have gotten rid of paper books, relying only on electronics?”
Riva nodded. “I think it’s a shame. There’s nothing like the feel of a real book in your hand.” She looked at him. “Do you enjoy reading?”
“I sure do.” He paused by what had been Paul’s section. “And the collection you have here is fantastic.”
Riva went around and pulled Paul’s old office chair out from behind the big desk, then offered chairs to the others before sitting and taking her company in.
What would it feel like to have people in her home like this on a regular basis?
Was she really ready for it? For several minutes her guests just visited among themselves, commenting on and complimenting her home and talking about the lack of affordable housing in their area.
She watched and listened with interest. She didn’t disagree with them, but she still wasn’t convinced she was ready to become a landlady.
What would it actually entail on the business end?
Extra bookkeeping and more income taxes and possibly more maintenance bills?
Beyond that there would be more noise, more coming and going, cars parked in her driveway or out front .
. . a lot to consider. Was she up for all that?
Windy had already reassured her that, based on the lack of housing, the city was being lenient with existing tenant codes, but still . . . it was a lot to take on.
And yet there was something undeniably warm and friendly about having her three unexpected visitors this morning.
Especially after the wild night of the storm.
Besides, hadn’t she made up her mind last night?
And hadn’t she felt a genuine sense of peace when she’d decided?
She silently prayed again . . . and once again she felt a quiet comfort .
. . along with the sense that God truly was directing her path .
. . just like she’d asked. Maybe her next question was whether she had sufficient faith to follow.