Chapter 4 #2
Riva took a deep breath and dove in. “Windy,” she began, “if you’re still interested, I’m willing to rent you my attic room. But I totally understand if you’ve had second thoughts. I mean, that room really needs work. You might want to take a second look to see what you’d be getting into.”
“Are you kidding?” Windy beamed. “I’m happy to do the work. I definitely want that room, Riva. I just didn’t want to pressure you. I hope you didn’t feel pressured.”
“Not by you,” Riva said.
“By me then?” Laurel asked with a furrowed brow.
“No.” Riva smiled. “By God. He’s been gently twisting my arm. And that storm last night really sealed the deal.”
They all laughed and then Windy grabbed her brother’s hand. “Come up and see my new room with me. You can help me get it ready.”
“I knew there was a catch when baby sister offered to take me to coffee.” He winked at Riva.
“Marcus is a very handy handyman.” Windy tugged her brother up from his chair. “Come on, Mr. Handy Mandy, I want your opinion on a couple of things.”
After they left, Laurel turned to Riva. “So, you’re taking in your first boarder?” Her lower lip jutted out. “Does that leave me out in the cold?”
Riva nonchalantly sipped her coffee. “How about my upstairs ensuite?”
“Seriously?” Laurel’s whole face lit up. “You mean it?”
“If you want that room, it’s yours.” Riva smiled, then further confessed how scared and lonely she’d felt last night. “It really did help me make up my mind.”
“It was a disturbing storm.”
“Strange how you feel more alone in times like that.” She looked around the sunlit room. “But to be honest, in the light of day, I wasn’t so sure. Until just now . . . when I took a moment to pray.”
“And what you said about God was true? Was he really twisting your arm?”
“I’ve got a real peace about this so I’m convinced he has something to do with it.” Riva could see the eagerness in Laurel’s eyes. “Go on up to check out the ensuite. Who knows, that room might not measure up to your memory of it. You can still change your mind.”
“I doubt I’d change my mind, but I do want to look.” She stood.
“I think everything on the second floor could use new paint. The kids’ rooms are pretty atrocious-looking from where posters and things were hung.
But I’m thinking I should leave the color choices up to the tenants.
” She considered this. “Within reason and with owner approval, of course. I don’t really want to see any chartreuse or magenta or fire engine red. ”
“Ugh, no worries. I’m pretty conservative. Off-white, probably. Or at the most, a pastel shade.” She beamed at Riva. “This is exciting.”
Riva simply nodded as Laurel made her exit, but as she gathered up the coffee mugs, she wondered about this move. Sure, it was exciting, but it was also unnerving. She’d just opened the doors of her quiet home. She knew it was right but hoped she wouldn’t be sorry.
She was wiping down countertops when she heard Marcus call to her. “I’m in the kitchen,” she yelled back.
“There you are.” He joined her, leaning against the island. “Laurel wants to know if you have a tape measure she can borrow.”
Riva opened her junk drawer, then dug around a bit until she found one. “There you go.”
He pocketed it. “The two of them are already making plans to swap a few pieces of furniture, and Windy offered to share her storage unit with Laurel.” He looked rather intently at her. “Your house is going to become lots busier, Riva. Are you sure you’re up for that?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a lot to wrap my head around, but I think it’s the right choice. And if it allows me to stay in my home, well, then it’ll be worth it.”
“I noticed you have two other good-size rooms up there. Will you be letting those out too?”
She peered curiously at him. “Are you asking for yourself?”
“No.” He laughed. “I’m happy in my condo for now.”
“Oh, good. Because I only plan to rent to women.” She closed the junk drawer.
“That’s a wise plan. Do you have rental contracts?”
“Contracts?” She frowned. “Laurel is a friend . . . and Windy is your sister. Do you really think I need contracts?”
“I would if I were you. It’s not that you don’t trust them. It’s just that it will simplify your life to have everyone on the same page.”
“I’m sure that Paul, my late husband, would totally agree with you. He was an attorney and believed in dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s. So thanks for bringing it up.” She refilled her coffee mug, then asked him if he wanted another cup.
“I wouldn’t refuse a refill. Who knows how long the ladies will take upstairs.”
She handed him a steaming mug, then led them back to the library. After they were settled, she asked Marcus about his childhood. “Windy told me about growing up in a commune. Was that your experience too?”
“Somewhat. I’m six years older than Windy so my family history is a bit different.
I was in third grade when my parents joined the commune.
I wasn’t too thrilled to leave our neighborhood and my friends behind.
Windy was a toddler so I doubt she remembers much about life before.
My parents had been fringe involved with this group for a while, so I did know some of the families out there. Just the same, I never really fit in.”
“Windy told me her given name was September Wind, but Marcus sounds pretty pedestrian to me.”
“My parents named me August Storm.” He grimaced.
“They used to call me Storm. Windy sometimes still does, but I don’t appreciate it.
As soon as I was old enough, I changed it to Marcus.
” His dark eyes twinkled. “I had a childhood friend at the commune. River . . . don’t recall his last name.
Anyway, he was a couple years older than me, and he had this little black-and-white TV in his closet.
His grandma snuck it to him for a birthday one year.
Real contraband on the commune. But he and I used to get out of chores and hide in there and watch old reruns.
The Rifleman was our favorite. We’d play Rifleman in the woods, using sticks as guns.
He became Lucas and I was Marcus. So when I got out of that place, I decided to take the name permanently. ”
“How old were you when you left the commune?”
“Eighteen. I infuriated my parents by joining the Air Force.”
“My son’s in the Air Force.” She told him a bit about Brent’s military career and recent deployment to the Middle East. “He’s always been a computer wiz, and the training he’s gotten there will probably be good preparation for his next job.” She pursed her lips.
“Are you worried about him?”
“Of course.” She forced a smile. “But I try to use worry as a flag to remind me to pray for him. Better for both of us that way.”
“That’s wise.” He shared how, after enlisting twice, he’d used his GI bill to get a teaching degree. “I thought serving in the military was tough, and then I taught middle school for more than twenty years. Let me tell you, that’s really tough.”
“Did you get combat pay?” she teased.
He grinned. “I should’ve. I retired last year. I’m still getting used to having all this free time on my hands.”
“What did you teach?”
“Social studies.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“I suppose it was. More so early on. Kids have gotten a lot more complicated and less motivated. And computers are a convenient but invasive part of that. Mostly I enjoyed teaching history.” He stood to peruse Paul’s book section again.
“That’s why some of your titles here interested me. Someone loves US history.”
“That was my husband’s collection.” She wondered what Paul would think of her new plan to take in boarders.
He’d probably approve since it allowed her to stay in their home.
That had worried him a lot before he passed.
“Paul loved to read, but because of his legal work, he didn’t always have time.
Some of those books have never been opened.
They were for his retirement . . . and then, well, he passed. ”
“How long has it been?” he asked gently.
“A year and a half.”
“I’m sorry. I know that’s hard.” He removed a Clancy hardback from the shelf. “I lost my wife close to six years ago and I still miss her sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
His smile was sad as he opened the book. “It used to feel hard all the time, but I’d have to say it’s down to just sometimes now. So, you see, it does get better . . . in time.”
“Right.” She wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “That’s encouraging.”
“Do you have other children?” he asked. “Besides your Air Force son?”
“Yes. McKenzie is my firstborn, though she goes by Kenzie. She’s two years older than Brent and just took a job in New York.” She felt a twinge of maternal longing. “How about you? Any kids?”
“My wife had health issues so we never had any. I guess the school kids were enough for me.” He held up the Clancy novel. “I can’t believe I’ve never read this one before. I thought I’d read them all.”
“Feel free to borrow it.”
“Do you issue library cards to your patrons? And charge late fees?”
“No, I believe in the honor system.” There was a noise upstairs, and she paused to listen. “Sounds like Laurel is calling for me. I better go see.”
“Mind bringing her the tape measure while I finish my coffee?” He fished it from his pocket and held it out to her.
“Not at all.” She took the item from his hand, then gestured toward the room.
“Feel free to make yourself at home in here.” Then, taking her coffee and the tape measure with her, she climbed the stairs.
But as she went, her mind was preoccupied with Marcus.
He seemed like a very nice man. And if she was interested in a relationship—which she was not—he might’ve been a good candidate.
But Riva had decided years ago, right after Paul first got ill, she was a one-man woman.
She would never marry again. Just the same, Marcus seemed like a good guy. And he was a handyman too!