Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Austin
“Just a bit longer,” he kept saying in that oh-so-subtle British accent, more to himself, I thought, than to me.
The snow was starting to stick, but the roads were passable.
The real issue was the swirling snow in front of us, practically blocking our view of everything except its blinding, chaotic fall.
He’d made only one turn off the road from the supermarket and onto one with a steep incline, and Randall took it slowly and steadily, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel, his face scrunched up in concentration.
I left him to it, quietly looking out the windshield in an effort to assist, if needed, with staying on the road.
Eventually, he flipped his turn signal and let out a sigh. “Here we are.” He smiled, relaxing his face and shoulders. All I could see was more swirling snow and a narrow driveway or roadway, lined on both sides with tall trees.
“Winter wonderland,” I muttered, and he laughed. The stretch of road was long and secluded, the dense line of trees eventually opening up to a clearing, with a modern cabin at its center, all glass and blond wood and stone.
“No, seriously,” I insisted, looking up at the picturesque scene. “This place looks like a fucking snow globe.”
“I imagine everything from here to the Jersey Shore looks like a snow globe right about now,” he countered.
“True.” I laughed again, but it was also true that I had never seen a more beautiful image; not even the rolling hills and ornate buildings of Hampstead University could compete with this guy’s house.
Randall drove around to the side and hit a button that opened one of the two garage doors. Even the side view of his cabin was impressive.
“I see why you bought this place; it’s really beautiful.”
“Wait till you see the view from inside,” he said, then looked a bit embarrassed, like he’d been caught bragging.
“That might have to wait until the asshole shaking this snow globe puts it the fuck down.”
It took him a beat, but he laughed at that. I really liked hearing him laugh, though his nerves still seemed a little frazzled from the drive.
The snow had been blinding, and I was happy to have it behind us as he pulled into the garage.
Randall heaved a sigh as he watched the garage door shut the storm out through his rearview mirror.
When the door closed, Randall went back to staring out the windshield, not moving, not turning off the vehicle.
He had been so tense as he drove, and not wanting to call attention to it, I had tried my best to ignore it while we had been out on those treacherous roads.
Now all I wanted to do was acknowledge it, to acknowledge him, and make sure he was okay, which was odd since he was just some old friend of my parents, whom I’d never met before.
Yet I sensed that my attention would be welcome.
Before saying anything, I cupped his bicep and squeezed, letting out a sigh of my own.
“The storm was really blinding out there. It’s crazy how quickly it went from a cold day to white-out conditions. Thank you, Randall, for getting us home safely. I really hate when the weather gets like this. It’s why I don’t have a car up here.”
“Yeah,” he agreed with a shaky sigh, “I hate it too.”
“Well, we’re safe now inside this beautiful snow globe. No more driving until the storm’s cleared, right? Let’s get these groceries inside.”
He looked down at my hand before looking up at me. I left it where it was, trying to communicate that he had done a great job and that he didn’t have to worry any longer. We’d muddle through our snow globe adventure together.
Together.
Despite the layers between us, something in me ignited just from my gloved hand on his arm.
“Yes, yup. Welcome to my snow globe,” he joked, and it made me happier than it really should have to hear his accented little chuckle.
We stepped out of the car, and I took in the large open space around me. The walls were neatly lined with shelves and cabinets, and in the space where a second car would go, Randall had a treadmill and a weight bench. A huge TV hung off the garage wall.
Randall rounded the back of the vehicle and loaded his arms with bags as I grabbed the case of beer and followed him up two small steps and directly into a laundry room.
“Welcome,” he said sheepishly as he crossed the fairly decent-sized room, also full of neatly organized shelves and storage as well as a way-more-modern washer and dryer set then we had at school, or than my parents had back home in Jersey.
“Jeez, those things look more advanced than my cell phone. Do they prepare dinner when they’re not cleaning clothes?”
Randall laughed again, and my heart soared at having been the one to make that happen. “My company was involved in developing the app.”
“The app? Your washer and dryer have their own app?”
“I could wash a load of laundry from New Jersey if I wanted.”
“If we make it to New Jersey!” I hoisted the box I was carrying, not because I needed to, but because I needed to not be thinking about how long we might have to spend alone in his cabin before finally making it to my parents’ house.
He took the cue and opened the door opposite the one we’d just walked through.
We were in a sleek modern kitchen that almost seemed incongruous when I looked past it to the open floor plan of the cabin beyond.
The single wide-open, vaulted-ceilinged room was practically all windows except for the huge, stone-framed fireplace and bookcases that took up one whole wall.
Looking up, there were two balconies, or landings, opposite each other, one sporting more bookcases.
Parallel staircases from opposite sides of the room led from the landings down to our level.
Every surface that wasn’t a snow-filled window was rustic wood or natural stone.
Except for the kitchen, with its white cabinets and sleek stainless-steel appliances, a rectangular island forming the barrier to the rest of the room and housing the sink and stovetop, and a white marble surface jutting out from the center of one end of the rectangle, slightly lower than the countertop surface, acting as the kitchen table.
“I bet those appliances have their own apps as well?” I jutted my chin toward the kitchen.
“They do, indeed.”
“Like the thermostat. I turned on the spot to look around the impressive room. “Sorry, appliances, to interrupt your down time. We’ll get out of your hair as soon as the weather allows.” Randall might have looked at me funny to start, but he was smiling again.
I headed for the kitchen. “Mr. Refrigerator,” I said, holding out a hand as if to shake before opening the door and finding it practically empty as Randall had intimated.
I shoved the whole case of beer onto a shelf.
“Thank you. It is really cozy in here.” I turned back to Randall, taking in the beautiful room once again.
A large, comfortable-looking couch, with a matching love seat on one side and two chairs on the other, circled the dormant fireplace.
There was nothing on the mantle or hanging above it.
No photos or knickknacks, no paintings, nothing but books on the inset bookshelves.
I took in the whole room one more time, admiring it. There were no decorations anywhere.
“Green garland,” I spoke.
“Huh?” he appropriately responded.
I pointed to the balcony with the bookshelf.
“Green garland. The kind with lights in it.” I spun around and pointed to the other loft.
“You could thread it through the railings and down the banisters. Oh! And hang it on the mantle. White lights, of course. Multicolored would be all wrong for this elegant space.”
He looked at me strangely as he placed the groceries on the counter behind me.
“You don’t have any decorations,” I explained. “No tree?”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, it’s just me, so …”
“Well, we’ve got time now,” I enthused. “We could pull out your decorations and make this place festive!”
His next “oh” was intoned exactly the same way as his last. He looked down as he confessed, “I don’t have any,” as if it was a question.
“No worries.” I jumped right in, not wanting him to feel bad, like it appeared he did. “We’ll find something to do around here to keep us occupied.” Oh fuck, had that sounded like an inuendo. I hadn’t meant it to sound salacious. “Like cooking!” I quickly suggested.
With the groceries deposited, Randall headed back toward the laundry room door. I was able to grab ahold of his upper arm again as he walked past me. I really liked touching him too much, and so far, aside from one handshake, I’d only done it through layers of clothing.
“I can get the rest. You start to unload since I don’t know where anything goes.”
He glanced at my hand on him again before croaking out, “Firewood.” He moved his arm, the one I was holding, so that his thumb was pointing over his shoulder to a sliding glass door on the other side of the kitchen.
“I cleaned out the fireplace when I thought I’d be gone for two weeks.
We’ll need more firewood.” He went to head in that direction.
“I haven’t needed the generator yet, but I did have it tested and serviced a few weeks ago.
They said it won’t power everything, but it should keep the refrigerator going and get us heat and hot water.
The guy told me the original owners didn’t bother to hook it up to the stove because of the elaborate outdoor kitchen.
I’m glad I had him out, or I wouldn’t have known any of that.
He made sure the propane was filled on the grill too.
So we should be okay if the power goes out. ”
He sounded worried as he ticked off all the things he’d had done to make sure he was ready for a winter storm. “And now we’re stocked up and ready to ride it out.” I enthused, hoping to reassure him.
“We’re going to be fine!” I continued. “But please, let me get the rest of the groceries and the firewood. You’ve done so much already.
I’m here invading your gorgeous space. It’s the least I can do.
” I spun around to take in the one large room yet again.
“I swear this place is like the best vacation villa ever.”
“It actually was a vacation home for the last owners, I’m pretty sure.”
I looked pointedly at Randall, and he finally acquiesced, sort of.
“Follow me,” he said. “I’ll show you where the firewood is, and then I’ll grab the rest of the groceries.”
He opened the sliding glass door, and we were on a huge patio, partially covered where we stood in the doorway. “Right over there.” He pointed. “There are carriers you can load up.”
“On it!” I smiled since he looked worried.
He stood in the door as snow blew in on both of our faces.
“I’ve got this. Go inside.” I practically had to yell over the storm.
“You’re letting all the cold, and the snow, into your beautiful house.
Go! Shoo!” He nodded and turned. I hoped his worry wasn’t over having me, or any guest, tracking snowy shoes through his pristine cabin.
So I tried to keep it light. “And keep the stuff out for dinner. I’m starving!
” We’d already decided on the fish at the grocery store since it was the least likely to keep for very long.
He gave in and walked back to the kitchen.
The snow was really piling up, so I couldn’t see much outside except for the wood neatly stacked in a rack along a stone sitting wall that formed the outer barrier of the patio area, a section of which was covered by a pergola.
It served as some small protection as I found a couple of large canvas sacks neatly stored on a shelf that was part of the firewood rack’s structure.
I filled them both and lugged them back to the slider, depositing one at the door and stepping inside with the other.
There was a section of tile by the door, with an indoor/outdoor mat on it, and I stood there dripping and eyeing the path to the fireplace while Randall was busily putting away groceries.
I took another look around the well-appointed and unique cabin and realized there would be very little privacy for the next few days.
I decided it was best to rid myself of as many dripping-wet clothes as possible, so I peeled off my jacket and deposited it on the floor.
I bent to pull off my sneakers next and realized that my sweats were caked in snow too.
Maybe I could just stand there until I was dry enough to deliver the wood to the other side of the cabin.
I decided to pull off my sweatshirt and use it as a towel to soak up some of the moisture, and when my head was free of the material, I emerged to find Randall taking me in. I yanked my T-shirt down and bent to brush off around my ankles.
I looked up at him from my bent position. “It’s really coming down out there. I think we made it home just in time. I’m sorry for the mess …”
“Don’t be silly, and don’t worry about tracking snow in. I’ll clean it up. We should really get the fire started in case we lose power. Here, I’ll grab this, and you can go get changed.”
“Yeah, about that …” I had the sense to look sheepish as I was about to confess the most college-student thing ever. “I didn’t really pack for this trip. I just brought my dirty laundry. I mean, I think I have a button-down and dress pants for Christmas, but, yeah …”
Randall stood there, the heavy sack in hand, just looking at me. Eventually, he said, “Okay. That door there is the downstairs bath. You go get cleaned up. I’ll find a towel and something for you to wear. I’ll get the fire going, then see about your laundry. Then dinner. Sound good?”
“I … You don’t have to do my laundry. I can take care of it if you don’t mind me using the machine. God, I’m so sorry for the imposition! Really, just, all of it.”
He was quiet again, like everything to him was a problem that had to be worked out. Or like he wanted his answer to be perfect. He nodded. “Okay.” He pointed at me. “Shower.” Then at himself. “Fire, then we’ll regroup for dinner and laundry.”
“Perfect.” I smiled, and he lugged the firewood.
“And it’s no imposition. Having you here. It’s really not.” He put the bag down and waved toward the kitchen. “I mean, if you weren’t here, who would drink all that beer?”
I shook my head and laughed as I made my way across the room to the bathroom, another well-appointed room with a large shower taking up most of one wall, the sink and commode opposite it, and a whirlpool bath straight ahead. I couldn’t help but comment aloud, “This place is really nice.”