8. Victoria
8
VICTORIA
A fter spending a few days cleaning the house and gathering some basic supplies from town, I am now bleary-eyed and planning out the way I want the house to look. The truck worked a treat, although I have a feeling that at some point it will start to give me trouble. I don’t think it is very reliable.
“There is a lot to be done,” I tell Fiona and my mother on the three-way conversation we are having. My first few nights in my new home were terrible, but I am not going to tell them that. After the confrontation with my new neighbor, my senses have been heightened, and I have no idea what to expect from him next. But so far, my time included adding things to Pinterest, ordering way too many décor items and furnishings online, and jumping at each bleat I hear from the goat every night, all night long. Hence why sleep has not been something that has come easily.
“Put the camera on, I want to see,” Fiona says excitedly. The overwhelm is building. I have walked around outside and back inside again numerous times, each time noticing something new that needs fixing. The list I have now is almost a page long.
“Here,” I say, turning on the camera and giving them a tour.
“Oh, sweetie, it looks just how I remember it,” my mother gushes, like she is seeing something beautiful and not the dark, run-down house that I am looking at.
“How so?” I ask, knowing my mom is the voice of reason in all this.
“I am pretty sure behind that board against the wall is a beautiful open fireplace. From what I can remember, the tiles around that were a brilliant vibrant blue.”
I walk over to the area she is suggesting and pull back the board a little to see that she is right. The blue is striking and will look amazing against the stark white walls and the timber floorboards that I plan to sand and stain.
“Those drapes are thick and heavy-looking. You could get rid of those and let in more natural light. I am sure once you sand the floorboards, that will really lighten up the place,” Fiona says, and that is something I have already thought about. Plantation shutters might work well, as would soft, floating drapes.
“I agree. I ordered a new sofa and armchair from Pottery Barn because they were on sale, and it will take a few weeks to come, so I have plenty of time to get the place ready for it.” I’m happy with the progress I have made so far with all the online ordering. Me and my tape measure had lots of fun.
“Oh, and those high ceilings are amazing. We were there around Christmas and Marie got an enormous tree and we decorated it together. It looked amazing in the corner by the staircase. Of course, your father wasn’t happy the entire time, which just put a damper on it all.” My mom scoffs as I walk around, visualizing my own tree sitting in the corner of this room between the open fire and the front windows.
“Why was Dad such an asshole?”
“I think it was probably because of this property, actually,” she says, and my interest is piqued.
“How so?” Fiona asks.
“Oh, it was a generational place. I think his grandparents built it, but when they passed, they left it to Marie. Not sure why. I didn’t get involved in all that. His family were always a little strange. Marie was the only one who seemed content and grateful in her life, even if she could be a grump at times,” Mom remarks, and I sigh, never understanding family dynamics since I only remember just Mom and me.
I walk up the stairs to the top floor where all the bedrooms and the bathroom are.
“Oh my God, is that a claw-foot bath?” Fiona almost shrieks as I make my way down the hall, showing them the rooms.
“I do love that,” I murmur, looking at it again. “I also ordered soft Egyptian towels from Saks that will match this color scheme. Apart from a new vanity and shower screen, there really isn’t too much needed in here.” I’m happy about that fact because bathrooms and kitchens are the most expensive to renovate and the kitchen needs a complete overhaul .
“Sweetie, I really think with your eye and passion for interiors, you can make this something special,” my mom says, and I can tell by her voice that she is in love with the place.
“You should start a blog. You know, document your journey. Put it out on social media,” Fiona suggests, and I stop short.
“That is a great idea,” I tell her, kicking myself that I hadn’t thought of that earlier.
“Make sure you take a heap of before photos, of the inside and outside, of each room,” my mom says.
“I can see it now, city girl turns country. Hashtag Whisperwoman,” Fiona says, making all three of us laugh.
“I love that idea.” I already see it coming to life in my head as I take more notes.
“How’s everything in the city, Fiona?” I ask her, even though I only flew out a few days ago.
“I saw Josh at the café down the street, if that is what you are asking. He was on his lunch break. Natalie was with him, although he didn’t look pleased about that fact. He jumped up when he saw me and came straight over, asking why you won't take his calls.”
“What an idiot. What did you say?” I ask, knowing she would have told it to him straight.
“I told him that you were traveling. That you were having the time of your life with the various men you are meeting and to stop calling you.” She sounds so proud of herself, and I bark out a laugh.
“Good thing that he is in the past and this fantastic house is your future, darling. Josh is not worth the time thinking about,” my mom says, and I agree. I have already spent too many weeks thinking about it all and have moved on. We were only together for a year, and if I am truthful with myself, I knew he wasn’t the one. And since he so easily cheated on me with another woman, I didn’t mean much to him either. That thought sparks another idea of how this house could be used in the future.
“Totally agree, Ms. McArthur,” Fiona says as the two of them start talking about me like I am not even on the call.
“Alright, I need to go out and get Garry,” I tell them, breaking up their chatter, wondering how I am going to get the goat back into its pen.
“Garry? Don’t say you have met a man already?” my mom asks playfully. I instantly think of my neighbor. The tall, dark, brooding man who wants to buy my property. Tension builds in my shoulders, and my heart does a weird flip-flop at the thought of him. He makes me equal parts angry and intrigued.
“Well, if by man, you mean a four-legged goat that bleats at everything, so much that I barely sleep at night, then yes. Garry is my new boyfriend, and I need to get him back into his shed for the night.”
“Oh look, she is already one with the animals,” Fiona says, laughing.
“Garry and I are now friends. He followed me into the shed last night, no problem. Very obedient.” My tone is full of sarcasm, but I smile to myself with pride that I actually figured it out myself. Even if it took me an hour last night to get him into the shed, and in the end, I had to coax him with food .
“Can goats be obedient, or do you think he just liked the smell of you or something?” Mom asks, and since neither of us have the answer, we just end up in fits of laughter at this weird and wonderful situation I have found myself in.
Ending the call, I sigh, looking around the place, then grab my laptop to make some notes about a new website and blog. Operation Hashtag Whisperwoman starts now.
After getting the truck started and stalling it in the driveway three times, I am relieved to finally be in town and gathering all the things I need. I have no idea how I managed to start it, but I do hope that I can get home without any more issues. With another quick dash to the grocery store for more food, I am now walking around the hardware store, the cart I am pushing almost full when my cell vibrates with a text message from Josh.
Where are you?
Why won’t you answer my calls?
You are being childish.
My screen fills with his rant, seemingly frustrated that I am not giving him the response he thinks he’s entitled to.
“Can I help you there, miss?” a voice asks, and I startle as an older man walks up to me in a pair of overalls and a small smile .
“Well, I think I’m taking most of the store home with me, so I hope that means I am doing okay,” I say with a small chuckle at myself as I slide my still vibrating phone into my pocket. I push Josh and his persistence to the back of my mind and refocus on why I am here. I have no idea what the hell I am doing with the house. At this point, I am relying on the internet for my renovation education.
“I haven’t seen you around here before; are you Marie’s niece?” Boy, news does travel fast around here.
“Yes. I’m Victoria,” I say, putting out my hand.
“I’m Bob. Jerry told me that you might be in this week. I was sad to hear of Marie’s passing. She kept to herself a lot but was always a nice woman to me. I hear there is a fair bit to fix out on the property?”
“Thank you. There is, but it is mainly cosmetic,” I say, trying to remain upbeat. “So I do need to get some paint.” Looking around, I’m not able to see it.
“Sure thing. What are you looking for, inside or out?” he asks, already walking down the aisle, and I follow him.
“Both. Ideally, stark white for interior and Grey Goose for exterior,” I tell him, already knowing the color scheme. Visualizing my new place has me giddy with excitement. My plan is to paint outside in the sunshine during the day and then start painting inside during the evenings. I hope within a week or two of painting day and night, I will have it done. It’s going to make a massive difference.
“Sounds like a hell of a job. Are you sure you’re okay with it all?” He turns to look at me with concern.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, trying not to be offended about how the men in this town seem to think a woman can't cope with these types of tasks. Sure, I haven't painted a house before, but how hard can it be?
“You’re neighbors with Tanner Whiteman out there. I am sure he will be happy to help you.”
I bite my tongue. That is the one person I will not be asking for help. I am sure he will take too much enjoyment out of seeing me fail, and I am starting to feel like I need to prove everyone wrong in this town.
“Alright, well, how many gallons do you need?” he asks, and I balk. Shit. I have no idea.
“Oh, umm…”
“Outside, I’m guessing you will need a few tins of this one,” he says, starting to put them in my cart. “If you need more, you can always come back in. For inside, let’s start you with a few tins of this one. Plus, don’t forget your undercoat…”
Ten minutes later, I am packing up the truck with all my supplies that will keep me busy for a few weeks. Bob is just as friendly as everyone else, and by the end of my trip, he ensured I had every tool and material known to man, along with another suggestion to lean on Tanner if I need to. Over my dead body.
Bob even had a floor sander to rent, so I grabbed that as well, thinking I might try that today when I get home. Everything so far is coming in on budget, and as I inhale a deep breath, I smile.
I scan the street, seeing people coming and going and stop for a moment to take it all in. Large trees line the street; flower beds are full of color now that spring is here; the sky is clear of any clouds. Everyone is smiling and friendly as they go about their days. No horns beeping, so yelling, no city smells from the subway grates. Only fresh air and friendly greetings. A small church sits at the end of the main street, almost welcoming people into town, and I spot Delish Diner and a few other stores I’ll need to investigate next time I’m here. I even spot a small interiors shop down the street that’s calling my name. Sometimes small towns have the best surprises.
Whispers is a pretty town, picturesque. And it’s my new home. I am doing this. I am really doing this .
I am about to jump back in the truck to go home when Flourish catches my eye. I remember what Peter, the taxi man, said about meeting the owner of the florist. Deciding that there is no time like the present to start meeting more locals, I walk down the street and push open the door, a small bell announcing my arrival.
“Oh, hi! You must be Victoria?” A woman who looks close to my age walks toward me from the back of the store.
“Ahhh, I am, yes.” I’m shocked she knows me before an introduction.
“Sorry, small town,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’m Jasmine. Welcome to Whispers. How are you finding Marie’s place?” she asks, and she, like everyone else I have met, is overly friendly, so I just go with it.
“News travels fast,” I comment with a smile. It is to be expected in a small town; I just need to remember that. “Marie’s place is great.” That has Jasmine looking at me as though I am crazy.
“We are talking about the same house, right? The old, run-down white one near Whiteman’s Distillery?” she asks, and I nod.
“That’s the one,” I say cheerily. I am in a good mood. I have survived a few nights, I have supplies, online orders are placed, and now I am ready to get to work.
“Have you met Tanner Whiteman yet? Owner of Whiteman’s Whiskey? I heard a rumor that he wants to buy Marie’s place. Or rather, your place now.”
I try to remain impartial, but the fact that everyone keeps mentioning his name is starting to become maddening.
“Oh, I am not planning to sell. I am renovating.”
“Renovating? Really? I thought Tanner would probably offer millions.” She’s dumbfounded if the expression on her face tells me anything.
“He did, but I am not taking it. The house needs a little work, but I love design and just stocked up on all the supplies to get started. I will be renovating and documenting the journey online. Besides, it is a family property; I can’t just sell it,” I tell her, chuckling, and she smiles.
“Huh… that sounds amazing.” She clears her throat. “Well, you will need some immediate color in the place to brighten your day. I have this amazing bunch of red roses that will look fantastic,” she says, grabbing a bunch of flowers.
“They are beautiful. Thank you. How much?” I ask as I follow her to the counter.
“First bunch is on the house,” she says with a wink.
“Are you sure?” I tilt my head in question, hating taking something I am not paying for .
“Think of it as a welcome to Whispers.” She starts to wrap them up in paper, then pauses to look back up at me. “If you’re not doing anything tonight, I will be hanging out at Whiteman’s Bar with my friend, Lacy. Feel free to join us. There aren’t many young women in town these days, so we kinda have to stick together.”
I look out the window and spot a black timber building with gold writing.
“Is that owned by Tanner Whiteman as well?” I know the answer is yes before she even responds. My grumpy older neighbor seems to be everywhere.
“Most of the town is,” she admits, and while I don’t really want to support the man who wants my land, I do need to make new friends. I find myself nodding.
“Thank you. I would like that. I can be there around seven,” I tell her, trying to mentally calculate the work I need to do this afternoon and how long it will take me.
“Perfect. Oh, and here’s my number. I am sure it is pretty quiet out at the house, so if you need anything, just call.”
I take her card. It is a beautiful soft pink embossed business card. So cute and feminine and very much my style.
“Thank you. And thanks for the flowers. See you tonight!”
I feel lighter and happier than I have in weeks as I walk toward my truck. But the smile quickly fades as I spot a shiny black truck, with the now familiar gold logo on the doors, drive up the street and park right next to mine.
With flowers still in hand, I take a breath and get ready for another onslaught as the man himself steps out. His thick thighs and strong body glide out onto the street, his forearms showing with his sleeves rolled up, eyes sparkling as he looks at me. Gripping my flowers tighter, I take a moment to drink him in. He can’t be real. This is exactly how imaginary boyfriends look. Tall, dark, brooding, handsome. He looks how he did in my dream last night.
The one that made me come twice.