Chapter Eight #3
Arden drew her into a hug, swayed with it. “When I crossed into Oregon, I knew I’d made the right choice. Absolutely. Then, as I got closer, I started worrying. The house was too big, too remote, too quiet.”
“And now?”
“What you said. It’s just right. It really is just right.”
In the kitchen, where Arden ran her fingers over her light gray counters, Zoey popped champagne.
“You have lots of good storage—and we stocked your pantry, your fridge.”
And put her favorite cobalt bowl filled with lemons on the counter.
“Seriously? God, what have I done without you for four years?”
“Pined, of course,” Zoey said with a smile that sparkled like the wine.
“Selfishly, I want you settled in and happy so you never think about moving away. You’ll like this kitchen.
You’ve got this massive island, the wine fridge, the ice maker, microwave drawer.
All these rustic cabinets. The glass fronts?
You’ll keep them looking like a showroom.
That’ll annoy me some. And Boone’s already lusting after your fancy French range in that classy blue. ”
“I’ll never be worthy of it.”
Zoey handed Arden a flute, took her own. “Here’s to us, together again.”
“I missed the hell out of you. Now I don’t have to. And Travis, April, and the kids are a day trip away, so I don’t have to miss them as much. Your mom and dad? Two years tops.”
“I’m counting on that.”
After filling Zorro’s water bowl, she did as Zoey asked and started a tour.
“They had this room set up as a home office—and the room I’m taking for mine as a playroom for their kids. I’m going to make this a library. Which I probably mentioned, as I see boxes marked ‘Books’ in here.”
“You might have mentioned it a couple dozen times.”
“I’ll need bookcases, and I’m thinking one of those cute little electric fireplaces, big gushy leather chairs.”
“Gushy leather’s a must.”
“I think the table I have works in the dining room. The way it’s open to the kitchen, it’s not a formal space, but I’m going to look for a buffet or server or hunt table. Something. But not new.”
“Antique store and flea market in Riverbend, and more of both a little farther on. April haunts the flea markets when they’re here. Then, like a crafty witch, turns trash into treasure.”
“She’s got that knack. Since I don’t, I’ll find something not new, but not in need of that knack. Look! Birds at the feeders. I think there’s a downy woodpecker.”
“Lexy worried about the birds so we drove over every week and filled the feeders. Supplies in your garden shed.”
“I have a garden shed,” Arden murmured. “And the most thoughtful cousin in the history of cousins.”
She found they’d set out her guest towels, fancy soaps in the powder room, arranged her guest room furniture in the main-level guest room.
Upstairs, they’d laid out her bedroom furniture, and Zoey’s touch—added fresh flowers in a turned wooden vase.
“You haven’t left anything for me to do.”
“Oh, there’s plenty. You’ve got an excellent walk-in closet.”
“It pales before yours.”
“True, but mine’s magnificent. You might want to contact the company I used. They could make yours nearly magnificent, and more efficient, which matters to you.”
“It does. I love that I have one of those cute electric fireplaces in here, and the bathroom! So much space, the big-ass shower with a rain head.”
“Being nearly six feet tall, you’ll appreciate that big-ass shower. Nice quiet colors, too, wood accents, very spa-like. You deserve it.”
“Whether I do or not, I’m going to wallow in it.”
She’d need to furnish the other bedrooms, but no hurry there.
Her office made her heart swell.
“This is like a dream. I can see the valley, the vineyards, the mountains.”
Zoey pointed west. “Expect glorious sunsets.”
“I know I should turn my desk around so my back’s to that view, but I won’t.
The owners—previous owners because mine now—installed the cabinets, that bench for the kids, but I can use them.
The wall color’s fine, that pale, dreamy green, but I think I’ll have the white cabinets painted.
Slate gray, forest green, something like that.
Moodier. And I love the wood ceiling, the pitched wood ceiling.
“And I know it’s picky, but I don’t like the doorknobs. I want something more rustic throughout.”
“It’s not picky when it’s your house.”
“My house.” On a hoot, Arden grabbed Zoey again. Zorro wagged and nosed between them, singing.
“The basement. I nearly forgot I have a basement.”
“Excuse me, lower-level walkout.”
“Whatever, it’ll need to be finished one of these days. It works for storage and my gym.”
“Equipment’s down there. Boone said it’s set for a flat-screen if and when you want one. Oh, login and password, in your desk. You can change them to whatever you want, but he wanted you to be able to get on without any problem.”
“My cousin married a genius.”
“I did.” With a smug smile, Zoey patted her hair. “Because I have exceptional taste. Now, do you want a break or are you ready to dive in?”
“I say dive, but let’s top off these drinks and I’ll take Zorro out, let him get acclimated.”
Arden talked more in the next three hours than she normally did in three weeks. They had so much to say. As always Zoey proved herself a dynamo.
Since Zoey decreed you couldn’t feel all the way home until suitcases were empty and put away, they started with the closet.
“You need more clothes.”
“I really don’t.”
Hands on hips, Zoey circled the much more than half-empty closet. “To be worthy of this closet, you need more clothes. You have some nice things for when you do events or go to New York, or on a date.”
She paused there, gave Arden a look.
“Not in a while.”
“Michael seemed nice.”
“He was nice. He is nice. We just didn’t work.”
“But you had sex with him.”
“Twice. It was nice.”
“Okay, the last nice crossed Michael off. Though we wish him well.”
“We really do.”
“To rewind, you have some good things, just not enough. We’ll go shopping.”
“Zoey—”
“Understands you live and work primarily in sweats or jeans, which who wouldn’t if they could?
But more is needed here. You also need a good, stylish trench or raincoat.
You’re in the PNW now, baby, and the winters in this valley are chilly, rainy, and foggy.
So some good water-resistant boots, a trench, a rain jacket with a hood. ”
“All right, that’s reasonable.”
With her fashionable eye trained, Zoey pulled out a dress.
“And you need to replace this little black dress. I remember this from before I left Ohio.”
“It’s classic.”
Before Arden could make a grab for it, Zoey whipped it away.
“It’s dated. You know what works on you, you always have. We’ll go shopping and you’ll find what works on you.”
“I forgot how bossy you are.”
“No, you didn’t. We’ll have fun. Now, you don’t plan on having three guest rooms, do you?”
“No. One up, the one down for now. I thought I might use one up here for a kind of den, with a TV, comfy sofa—which I need to buy. But I need to think about it.
“And it suddenly strikes me this is a lot to clean.”
“I’m really happy with my cleaning service. I’ll text you the name and number.”
“It’s just me. I don’t really need a service.” Or someone she didn’t know, really know, in her house.
“Arden.” Head angled, Zoey stuck a hand on her hip. “How many hours a day do you work?”
“It depends.”
“Do you put in a workweek, possibly more?”
“Yes.”
“And you make a living. Give somebody a job so they can do the same.” She patted Arden’s arm. “Let’s unpack another box. We should hang some of your art.”
“I’ll need to unpack my tool kit.”
“We’ll do that. You’ll show me where you want things, I’ll hang them. Between us, who’s the handy one here?”
Arden hunched her shoulders. “You are.”
“There, there. Remember, Travis is worse than you are. I got all Dad’s skill.”
“I know who to call when I need something fixed.”
“You do. You know,” she said as they walked out, “the longer I’m here, the more the house feels like you.”
“You really think so?”
“I really think so. The style. It’s simple but not plain, not ordinary. All the quiet, muted colors—peaceful, soothing. The wood—it’s warm, mellow. I wasn’t sure about the location before, to be honest.”
“No?”
“You’ve spent your whole life in a city or a neighborhood.
This is neither,” Zoey said as they went downstairs.
“But it feels like you, and you.” She gave Zorro a pat on the head.
“It’s sort of a writer’s retreat, and still minutes from a town with shops, restaurants, a really pretty park.
You’ve got the river, the mountains, the vineyards. ”
“And you.”
“And me, which goes without saying is number one on the list of advantages. You’re probably going to want more art than you have. There’s a really terrific little gallery in town you should check out.”
“Then I will.”
By the time Zoey got ready to leave, Arden had art on the walls. Yes, she needed more, but she intended to be selective. She had family photos and mementoes arranged on the built-ins flanking the fireplace. Her mother’s iron candlesticks on the mantel along with her father’s old mantel clock.
She’d organized her makeup, skin care, hair products, and all the rest in her bathroom in the meticulous way that made Zoey sigh.
“I should have you organize mine.”
“Anytime.”
“You’d just tell me I don’t need eight mascaras. Are you sure you don’t want to come for dinner?”
“I appreciate it, but I’m going to take a long, hot shower in my fancy bathroom, get into pj’s, feed Zorro, fix a sandwich, then my dog and I are going to kick back, bask awhile, read awhile, then sleep in our own beds in our new house.”
“Sunday.”
“Sunday, I’ll be there.”
Zoey hugged, held on. “I’m so happy. Text if you need or want anything.”
“I’ve got it all, but I will. Thank you. I love you.”
“You’re welcome. I love you.”
She stood in the doorway, waving Zoey off. Then stood, took stock.
Alone now, she thought. In the quiet, with the valley spread out like a painting.
“But I don’t feel that way. I don’t feel alone. I feel good.”
She closed the door, turned. “This is our place, Zorro. Our house. And we’re going to live our best lives right here.”