Chapter Eight #2
“Always.” Arden hugged, held on before she opened the rear door for Zorro to jump in. “Okay. Here we go.”
“Text!”
“From every dog-friendly motel on the way. I love you.”
“I love you back twice.”
She felt better, clearer as she drove. “One more stop, Zorro, papers to sign. Then we’re on our way.”
She gave herself a full week for the drive—and the option of longer if she decided to take a detour. It occurred to her that at nearly twenty-eight, she’d never really seen the West.
She’d attended a writer’s conference in Denver before she’d been published, done an author event in Oregon—Zoey’s arrangements. But other than that, she’d never been west of Illinois. And she’d never driven through plains and mountains, through miles of farmland.
Rather than all the open making her jittery—and spiking the underlying fear—she felt free. She turned into rest stops and picnic areas. She avoided big cities but took time to explore smaller towns.
And bought souvenirs along the way with an eye toward silly Christmas presents or mementos she’d display in her new home.
She saw corn and wheat fields in Iowa, and more in Nebraska, cowboys in Wyoming, and dipped down into Utah to explore canyons.
And made notes there with a glimmer of an idea for a future book.
Nevada offered the desert and baking heat.
Every night she texted her family and included a picture of some highlight of that day’s adventure. And slept those nights tired from the journey, and peacefully enough with Zorro curled up beside her bed.
“What do you think, Zorro?” She glanced in the rearview to where he sat with his nose out the window. “Are we having fun?”
He sang his woos and yowls, added a couple of yips.
“That’s right. We’re all about the fun.”
As she crossed into Oregon, she knew she’d made the right choice. She felt lighter, looser, quieter of mind than she had in months.
When Zorro gave out a little whine, she pulled over. She let him out to do what he needed to do while she walked with him and admired the rolling hills, green with summer, the drama of the ringing mountains.
Vineyards climbed the gentle slopes, spread in their tidy rows over the flatland. Houses and farms dotted the green, and the river wound its way through.
“Nearly home now, Zorro,” she murmured. “Nearly home.”
She visualized locking a door behind her and the door becoming a wall. The wall receding into the distance. She looked ahead now to whatever stood before her.
“Okay, Zorro.” She opened the back door so he’d jump in. “Last leg of this part of our journey.”
Not far now, she thought. She’d considered driving a few more hours the day before, but hadn’t seen the point in arriving in the dark and trying to orient herself, and her dog, after a full day on the road.
This way, she’d arrive fairly fresh, unload her luggage and the boxes she’d packed in case the movers were delayed with the rest.
She’d get her bearings, let everyone know she’d arrived. She had a cooler with provisions she’d grabbed at a mini-mart if she couldn’t face the short drive into town to stock her kitchen.
She had a list—she always had a list—of what needed doing and in order of priority. At the end of today’s list was a long, hot shower. Maybe she wouldn’t have a bed until tomorrow, but she’d have that shower in her excellent bathroom before making do with an air mattress for a night.
A guest room waited for her at Zoey’s, of course, but she wanted—needed—to end this journey in her own.
With the bedroom door open and unlocked.
She’d gotten books on native trees, shrubs, flowers, grasses, and passed the time trying to identify some from memory as she drove.
She felt fairly confident on the Pacific madrone—she had some on her property—due to the red-brown bark, and the Douglas fir because huge.
She admired the small crab apple with its little yellow fruit.
All so different, she realized, from what was behind her.
Since her property was partially wooded, she’d get to know the trees. And since the realtor had hyped the fact the sellers had landscaped with native plants, she’d get to know them, too.
She had another book to help with that.
And the birds, as they’d left feeders.
Just how would the city girl, even with some suburban experience, manage in what seemed awfully rural now that she drove through it?
“We’ll be fine. It’s not just a new chapter. It’s a brand-new book.”
She looked forward to it, she told herself. Even looked forward to the work. Unpacking, putting her things in place, arranging furniture. Eventually buying more, as this place—no, her new place—was more than twice as big as what she’d moved away from.
It wasn’t too big, was it? She felt those doubts creeping in, and imagined smashing them like bugs.
“No, it’s not. It’ll be nice to have more room. So shut up and think of that pretty view outside the office. Think how wonderful it’ll be to write in that space, with that view, with that quiet.”
Maybe too quiet? No cars driving by, no kids riding bikes, no neighbors mowing lawns or running snow blowers.
Just her, the dog, and a bunch of birds.
“Please!” She shook herself. “Stop, stop, stop. Town’s ten minutes away, and Zoey’s twenty. Writers need solitude. You want some of that. And goddamn it, it’s too late to second-guess it all now.”
And it’s all beautiful, she thought. Different, but beautiful.
She hated feeling anxiety bubbling up, resented the need to dig down for the confidence that had once been right there, always there. She hadn’t come this far, taking these big leaps, to lose her purpose now.
New book, she reminded herself, opening chapter.
Arden Comes Home.
She made the next turn, then the next, then taking a steadying breath, prepared to make the last onto the short, narrow drive that was hers.
The first thing she saw wasn’t the house that looked like part of the woods that ranged beside it, or the wide windows that opened to trees, to valley, to the mountains beyond.
She saw Zoey.
Even as tears burned her eyes, she let out a squeal that had Zorro scrambling up from his back-seat nap.
While Zoey waved her arms in the air, Arden pulled up. She sprang out of the car, leaving Zorro to leap into the front and out the open driver’s-side door.
“You’re here. You’re right here.”
“Well, yeah.” Zoey stopped waving her arms to throw them around Arden. “Welcome home! Oh, I can’t believe you’re here, really here. Not for a visit. Not for a few days. You’re just really here.”
The bubbling anxiety vanished. “I can’t believe you are. Shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I took today off. Boone and the girls can’t wait to see you, but me first!”
“Where are they?”
“Preschool for Lexy, day care for Maddy. Welcome to you, too, Zorro. Sing it!”
When he did, Zoey pulled away to give him a rub. “Zorro, the magic singing dog. Having you around will put off Lexy’s begging for a puppy. We’re not there yet.”
“You look wonderful.”
“Back at you. You know, we made the right choice when I went short.” Zoey patted her short, sleek, sophisticated pixie. “And you went back to long.” She gave Arden’s braid a little tug.
“How did you know when I’d get here? I nearly drove through last night.”
“We’ve been tracking you the whole way. Remember, we all got that app.”
“Right. Forgot. I need to text Aunt Jen.”
“I did that. Let’s grab some boxes or whatever and go in. I bet you can use a drink.”
“Zoey, it’s eleven in the morning.”
“That’s why the drink’s mimosas, made—of course—with Valley Vineyards champagne.”
At the back of the beefy SUV Arden had bought for the trip and her life in Oregon, Zoey shook her head.
“How did you manage to stay so organized on a weeklong, cross-country trip?”
“If I didn’t keep it all organized, it would’ve been chaos at every stop.”
“My life is chaos,” Zoey said cheerfully, and grabbed the duffle Arden used for those stops. “And I love it.”
“Check you with your gorgeous husband, two adorable kids, and high-powered career.” Arden pulled out one of her suitcases and the box holding Zorro’s bowls, treats, and toys.
“And check you, bestselling author—”
“For two weeks.”
“Bestselling author with her adorable and faithful dog and seriously charming new house.”
“It is charming, isn’t it?” Arden paused to really take it in.
“I mean, there are some things inside I’ll want to change, eventually, but out here?
Nothing. I love how it looks, sort of farmhouse, sort of woodsy, like it belongs here.
I like how the walkway circles, and the portico around the oversized front door.
The landscaping’s pretty, welcoming. I’ve been studying how to keep it up. ”
“You have great views. Using that bump-out on the second floor for your office? Wow.”
“It’s not too big, is it? It’s just me and Zorro.”
“It’s just right. Open up and let me in.”
Arden put her key in the lock, turned it. “You’re my very first guest. So yeah, mimosas sound good.”
She opened the door into the spacious living area with its stone wood-burning fireplace and wide windows that let the summer sunlight stream in.
But rather than the empty space she’d expected, she found her furniture arranged.
“How did—”
A delighted Zoey waved her hands again.
“We overruled you. We got the realtor to open it up and had the movers come over the weekend. You were not coming home to an empty house, not on our watch. You can rearrange, move things, whatever. But it’s all here.”
“Zoey, I … I need to cry a little.”
“All you want. It means everything to me, Arden, that you’re here.”
“Thank you, so much. You had to work like stevedores.”
“The movers did most of it. I supervised. Boone got your Wi-Fi and all that dealt with. And the girls and I had fun unpacking stuff. Or Lexy and I did. Maddy mostly toddled around and got into everything. God, that girl is just like me.”
“This is so … I worked up a chart where the furniture would go.”
“Of course you did.”
“This is really close.”
“I know my best friend.”