Chapter Eleven #2
“That’s good of her, and I’ll see to that.” After filling the dog’s bowl, he picked up the wine Gideon had poured for him. “So, what’s her story?”
“She’s a woman who wanted new doorknobs.”
“Gideon, everybody’s got a story. You’ve been all through her house with that detective’s mind of yours. That detective’s mind you’ve had since before you could walk.
“You know her story.”
Gideon stepped out to put burgers on the grill, then back to add potatoes to the hot oil. “You know, Pop, since you’ve got her books on your shelf, you could ask Mr. Google.”
“That’s messing with privacy. And half the time, more, I figure the internet’s full of shit. You’ve got an opinion.”
“She’s neater than your aunt Martha, more organized than the CIA. Tight with her family—going by photos around the place. Her dog loves her, is well-trained but not regimented, and she loves him back.”
“I could see that part myself.”
“Seems to me she knows what she likes, and she’s taking time to get it, a little bit at a time. She’s got a high-end coffee machine and stocks radicchio and sprouts. She offered to make me a sandwich.”
“That’s a kindness. If you leave out the sprouts.”
Gideon laughed, stirred potatoes. “She tried to give me a cash tip, and when I said no, she gave me a package of Oreos.”
“I like that girl.” Joe slipped out, flipped the burgers. “Keep going,” he said through the open door.
“If you go by the furniture, she’s got good taste. Nothing fussy, fancy, just good and solid. She has some serious gym equipment, wants one of the main-level rooms for a library. She could use it, as she has a bunch of boxes marked ‘Books.’”
“Makes sense, given she writes them.”
Gideon stuck a bowl of peas in the microwave.
“She has more on the shelf of her nightstand. Let me ask you something.”
“Ask away.”
“If Gram had a closet as big as your bedroom, what would she do with it?”
“Fill it up.”
“Right? She hasn’t. You have more clothes than she does.”
“I’ve lived longer.”
As Joe brought the burgers in, Gideon transferred potatoes to a dish lined with paper towels.
“I’d say her story is, she’s a nice, dog-loving, organized woman with good taste, doesn’t mind the quiet, has close ties with family, no boyfriend—nothing in the closet for that, no photos.
Probably spends a lot of time at her desk—second dog bed in her office.
One who probably eats healthy—smoothie maker, sprouts—but isn’t afraid of Oreos. Oh, and she must like dragons.”
“Dragons?”
“A stuffed one with the mountain of pillows on her bed, a glass one in a china cabinet. That’s it, so far anyway, in the cabinet. So a fanciful streak in there somewhere.”
“Now, see?” Joe pulled out two plates while Gideon took out the peas. “You’ve told me about an interesting woman, one with some layers.”
“Maybe. One thing I haven’t figured out.”
They sat, Joe scooped fried potatoes onto his plate. And because—Gideon knew—he felt Colleen watching, took it easy with the salt.
“What’s that?”
“Why would she want to be able to lock closet doors, the pantry doors, all the doors from the inside?”
Frowning, Joe added pickle chips to his burger. “I wondered about that. It seems to me, somebody who wants that thinks they might need a place to hide.”
“Yeah, but from what?”
“You’ve got that detective’s mind, Giddyup, you can find out.”
Gideon just shrugged. “Not my business.”
The longer Arden lived in the house, the more sure she was that she’d made the right decision.
She felt productive in the office, relaxed in the bedroom. She loved watching Zorro romp around the yard while she tried her cautious and inexperienced hand at gardening.
And wasn’t that the primary goal? To be relaxed, productive, and happy in her home?
Safe, yes, important, but without the rest it just led, as she knew too well, to stagnation.
She went shopping with Zoey because her cousin wouldn’t take no. She replaced the old black dress, added a few more things to her closet. Not enough, according to Zoey, but her cousin accepted it as a decent start.
Mostly, she’d just had fun.
She gave it another full week, then went back to town because she considered it more important—and more enjoyable—to outfit the house rather than herself.
She found her dresser—just rustic enough, with its dark wood and iron pulls. And the wood-framed oval mirror she’d hang horizontally hit the mark.
She found a chair—curved back, wood accents, dark-blue-and-cream pattern—and matched it with a nice little table.
And considered her bedroom all but done.
She’d nearly turned for home when she decided to hit the hardware store. Office next, she determined, and that meant paint.
This time she found Gideon at the counter while Joe helped another customer.
Elvis came over to greet her and Zorro while Gideon nodded.
“Hi. I’m going to plunge into paint.”
“Sounds messy.”
“I expect it will be. You can make up those little cans for sampling, right?”
“Sure. Plenty of choices on the tabs over there. Do you have something in mind?” he asked as he came around the counter.
“Probably dark green, but maybe a more middle green, or dark blue for contrast, or … Simple this is not, really.”
She studied the intimidating tabs with their varied colors.
“Like this maybe.” She pulled one out, tapped the darkest. “Or this one—a little gray in it. Or shit, this deep blue. Or no, this one here, this green has a kind of navy undertone, I think.”
She took a breath, huffed it out. “I’ve been thinking about this since I bought the house. I should have a better handle. Three choices. That’s it. I’m limiting it to three. More only leads to chaos and confusion.”
“Okay.”
“Not the blue. Forget the blue. I know that’s wrong. This one’s close to what’s on the walls, so … no. These two, and I’m going to pick one more.”
“I’ll get the two mixed while you work on the third.”
“Thanks.”
She pondered, compared, second-guessed. Then chose another as Joe came over.
“Nice to see you again.”
“You always have what I need.”
“We aim to please.”
“Bull’s-eye so far. It’s time to paint the office cabinetry, and since it is, I also need a dozen cabinet pulls, same finish as the doorknobs. I have the size.”
“Then let’s go fix you up.”
She chose her pulls—much easier than paint. Gideon had her three samples waiting while the dogs took a nap together.
“Got the square footage of the cabinets?”
“I do. Joe said to give it to Tessa Miller—the painter—and she’d pick up what I needed.”
“Got a paintbrush for the samples?”
“No. I guess I’ll need one. No, three, so I can try each one fresh.”
“I’ll get those for you.”
“Thanks.”
Test them first, she decided as she waited, decide, contact painter. In that order.
When he brought over the three brushes, she took out her credit card. “Wait until I start on the library. I’ll be even more of a pain in the ass.”
“You’re not.” He flicked a glance over. “Yet. Some of the customers Pop gets are. I know the difference.”
“I think it’s going to be this one for the cabinets. But this one might really work for the library walls.”
“Could.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind other opinions because I can always ignore them. Give it a shot.”
“First one’s too dark for the library, the third one’s too … I guess it’s bright.”
“So, at this stage, our opinions match.” She tapped her card on the machine. “Thanks. Let’s go, Zorro.”
“Come back and see us,” Joe called out.
“You can count on it.”
Though another customer came in, Joe walked over to Gideon.
“Did you read her book, the one I handed you the other day?”
“Not yet.”
“When you do, you’ll see she’s not just a pretty woman with good taste in dogs and doorknobs but a smart, clever one.”
Gideon knew Joe Riley and Colleen Cullen had fallen for each other when they’d still been teenagers. And that had held strong for over a half century.
Just as he knew his pop hoped Gideon would find the same.
“Maybe, but I’m not in the market. And if I were, she’s not my type.”
“First is your choice, but I think you’re wrong about the second.”
When she got home, Arden took the sample paint right up, laid down a shopping bag to protect the floor. She shook, then opened the cans and brushed each color on the cabinets.
“In this light, it’s that dark green, but we’ll go down, clean the brushes in the mudroom, then come up for a fresh impression. Another impression tonight, in lamplight, another in the morning, and so on.”
Satisfied, she took everything down to the mudroom. When she set the brushes aside to dry, Zorro let out a bark and made a run for the front door.
She still got that clutch whenever someone she hadn’t expected knocked on her door. Since it had been over four years now, she accepted she always would.
But she followed the dog and peeked outside.
A man, slim in jeans and a red polo, richly blond hair swept up and shining in the sunlight, stood with a covered dish in one hand and a little fluffy blond dog on a leash attached to a pink rhinestone collar.
He looked harmless, but so had Dustin Dubecki. Still, Dustin hadn’t had a covered dish or a cute little dog. And she hadn’t had Zorro.
She took a steadying breath and opened the door.
“Hi!” When he smiled, the dimples in his cheeks woke up.
“I’m Jamie Stuart from right around the bend, and this is the goddess of our home, Isis.
We come bearing brownies. Nick, my husband, decreed I had to wait a couple of weeks before coming over, give you time to settle in.
We walked down a little while ago, but you weren’t home.
Then I saw your car come back, so. Here we are.
“I didn’t want to leave them at the door because then you couldn’t ask me in, and I really want to see what you’re doing with the place. I won’t stay over ten minutes. I’ll set my phone alarm. I can be a chatterbox.”
She had to laugh. “You don’t say.”
He smiled winningly. “They’re excellent brownies. I followed Nick’s recipe. He’s a baker, professional. If you haven’t stopped into Sugar, Spice, and Coffee, you’re missing out.”
“I haven’t, but I will. I don’t think I’m missing out, since I’m getting those brownies. Come in.”
“Thank God, because I’m dying to … Oh, I love your living room furniture! Calm colors, lovely lines. I adore your big, beautiful dog.”
“He’s Zorro.”
“The fox! Brave and true.” He handed Arden the dish so he could give Zorro some love. “Oh, a singing dog.”
“He is that.”
“You’re adorable,” he told Zorro, and kissed his muzzle. “You’re welcome to bring Zorro when you come to our next Sunday brunch. We’re very dog friendly.”
“So am I. Isis is so cute.”
“Our sweet Yorkie-poo.”
She lived nearly ten miles from town, Arden thought. Wouldn’t it be good to know her closest neighbor?
Especially when he had a cute dog.
“I suppose you want me to share these brownies.”
“I did make them with my own two hands. From this sight line I can see the kitchen. The Simpsons did a good job on the updates there. We only moved in three years ago. They were lovely neighbors. When they told us you’d bought it, and you’re a writer, I got one of your books.
Rebound. Intense! Nick’s reading it now, and I’m halfway through Whispers.
I’d have finished, but a boy has to sleep. ”
Okay, since she found him charming, she thought, she’d get to know him, at least a little.
“In that case, you should come back to the kitchen.”
“Love to. I already like you. You’ll like me, too. I’m irresistible. Oh, I adore your dining room style! Vintage. I’m all about vintage. It so completely works. And I see you have one of the God of Hot and Sexy’s bowls.”
“You know Gideon?”
“Not really. I may be a happily married man, but I’d be dead if my heart didn’t…” Eyes rolling, he banged his hand against his chest. “When I see that gorgeous creature. Do you know him?”
“Not really. But he did install my doorknobs.”
“Girl.” The dimples just twinkled. “I hope that’s a euphemism.”
“No, sadly. Would you like coffee?”
“I’d love it. Your machine! Lattes?”
“My specialty. Is it all right to give Isis a—I can’t say the t word without great expectations.”
“Neither can we. She would graciously accept.” Jamie took a stool at the island. “Tell me you’re loving the house, the area, our adorable Riverbend.”
“So far, yes to all.”
“I’m so glad. And clearly you’re already making the house your own.”
“Little by little. The empty room—they had a home office. I’m going to make it a library.”
“Perfect. A wonderful spot to curl up with a book on a rainy winter’s night.”
Enjoying him, she served him a brownie and his latte. “So do you work with Nick at the bakery?”
“Good lord, no. My man is up every day before dawn, and that’s not for me. I don’t really bake, though I do make an excellent omelet. Which you’ll see for yourself at Sunday brunch. We have them once a month.”
“Ah, you’re a kept man.”
He sighed as she took the stool beside him. “I used to dream of being a kept man. By a movie star, or a sheik. Nick’s love and excellent business sense allow me to pursue my passion. I paint.”
“Fine art?”
“I hope so.”
“That’s … wait. J-period-Stuart! I bought one of your paintings.”
He gave her a friendly swat on the arm. “You did not.”
“I did. A forest scene, moody, wonderful light and shadow. Green Shadows—that’s it. I loved the book, but I bought it because I loved the painting.”
He studied her as he sipped his latte. “I knew it was meant. We’re going to be best friends.”
“That slot’s already taken by my cousin. Zoey and I’ve been besties since I was fourteen.”
“I’ll take the best-friend-not-also-related slot.”
Studying him over the latte, Arden felt herself smile. “It happens to be open.”