Chapter Two #2
“I said that to Shane earlier. If I’d only known…” Jenna gave herself a full body shake. “Okay. Enough of my complaining.” She turned to Veronica. “How were the patients today in therapy world?”
“Well, unsurprisingly, everybody is a mess…”
Carmichael Avenue was quite lovely—tree-lined and quiet with a decent amount of space between houses and alternate side of the street parking. It was Friday afternoon, and Sawyer glided her Honda Accord to a stop in front of the duplex that was labeled number 513.
There was a red pickup truck in the double-wide driveway, and as she looked, the driver’s side door opened and a man with white hair and a matching beard got out.
“Mr. Oliver?” she asked as she exited her own vehicle and crossed to him, hand outstretched. At his nod, she added, “Sawyer Hall.”
“Nice to meet you in person, Ms. Hall,” Oliver said, shaking her hand. He had a gentle smile and reminded her of everybody’s favorite uncle. “Shall we?” He indicated the house in front of them and headed toward the open front porch and the door on the right.
She’d seen the house online, done the virtual tour several times, and it lived up in person.
If the smell was any indication, it had been freshly painted, and David Oliver confirmed that when he said, “Painters just finished up yesterday. Everything’s white, but if you want to do a different color on your own, I’m good with that, just try not to paint any rooms super dark, yeah?
” He glanced at her with a grin. “Takes a lot of primer to cover black walls.”
She smiled back at him. “I just want to get in and settled. If I paint, it would be down the line.”
“Fair enough.”
The front door opened into a small foyer with a coat closet to her left and a small square of ceramic tile on the floor.
The staircase was straight ahead, and to her right was the living room, empty, that featured warm-colored oak hardwood floors, a gas fireplace on the outside wall, and tons of natural light.
“This is great,” she said quietly. “It’s hard to tell from photos online whether a place is light or dark, you know? ”
“My wife has tons of plants in our house, so she’s all about the sunlight,” David Oliver said. He was respectful and stood back while she wandered, and she appreciated that.
The living room led into a small dining space, with sliding glass doors that led out into what looked to be a shared yard.
“Yard is fenced,” David said. “There’s a divider between patios, but you share the yard. That seemed better than cutting it in half.” He shrugged as if he wasn’t a hundred percent sold on the idea himself.
She nodded. “And who is my neighbor?” Please don’t say a family with teenagers who will blast loud music and bang on the walls…
“Oh, that’d be my niece. Just her and her animals.”
She managed to keep her “Thank God” inside her head and simply nodded instead. The kitchen was small but functional and modern, not that she’d done much cooking lately. Maybe it was time to get back into that…
“Your stove is gas,” David Oliver was saying, pulling her back to the present conversation.
“Dishwasher’s over here. It’s new. Fridge is also new.
” He pulled the freezer drawer on the bottom open.
“Fresh ice,” he commented for no reason, and Sawyer decided she liked him a lot.
The path moved in a circle, a hallway leading from the kitchen back out toward the front door to the stairs.
“You’ve got your powder room here.” He gestured to a doorway off that hall. “Small but updated.”
He held an arm out for her to head up the stairs first where she checked out the two bedrooms, one bathroom with a new, big tub that Sawyer immediately envisioned herself soaking in, and a sizable linen closet.
Back downstairs, David said, “Welp,” and held out a set of keys and a garage door opener. “One key for the front door and one extra. Your garage space is on the right, just like your half of the house. Easy to remember.”
“Got it.”
“You have all the info about how to pay rent and when, yeah?”
Sawyer nodded, and David held out his hand for another handshake.
“Then I’ll leave you to it. Welcome to the neighborhood.”
She stood in the doorway as he got into his truck, started the engine, and drove away.
The wind chose that moment to kick up and hit her with a chilly fall breeze that made her shut the door and go in search of the thermostat.
It was electronic, one that could be programmed, but she didn’t have any desire to do that right now, so she simply kicked it up, and soon, she could feel the warmth.
She walked into the center of the living room and sat down in the middle of the floor, then lay down on her back and stared at the ceiling.
A fresh start.
That’s what this was.
She’d been nurturing her own pain for so long, and it was time to finish that and start again.
She scoffed from the floor. “Easy to say. Hard to do.” Because no matter how ready she felt for this new start, the pain of rejection still hung out inside her.
In the back of her mind. In the corner of her heart.
Hiding behind things and waiting for just the right moment to jump out and clobber her when she was least expecting it.
She was so fucking tired of that. Truly, utterly exhausted.
The ceiling was pretty, that old-fashioned stucco kind of look that she knew was done by a craftsman with a round brush and a strong wrist. She’d seen her father do it when he’d finished her mom’s crafts room, and her entire arm ached just from watching him.
But the resulting look of uniform circles with little hangy-downies, as she’d named them, couldn’t be beat.
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket, and she lifted her hips to pull it out. A text from her sister.
Tommy! What’s new?
She smiled at the nickname she’d been given when Courtney had read Tom Sawyer in school, thinking herself so clever. It had stuck.
My house! she typed back. Well, my half a house. She held up her phone and took a selfie as she lay on the floor, then sent it.
Why are you on the floor? Did you fall down? Need me to call an ambulance? She followed that up with an ambulance emoji.
Sawyer grinned and typed. No, just…taking it all in.
The gray dots bounced for a moment before Courtney’s message came. This is a good thing, this move. You deserve a clean slate.
Yeah, Sawyer sent back.
Movers tomorrow?
She nodded as she typed. Yup. I’ll be all in this weekend.
There was a beat of quiet before Courtney’s next text came. Proud of you, Tom.
Sawyer took in a big, cleansing breath and let it out slowly. Thanks, C. She took a moment, then changed the subject. Hey, how are you feeling? How’s my binky? Courtney was five months pregnant and didn’t want to know the sex, so Sawyer had taken to calling her future niece or nephew “binky.”
In response, Courtney sent the green-faced puking emoji, and Sawyer laughed out loud.
Still? I thought morning sickness was only in the beginning!
The dots bounced. Yeah, me too. That’s a load of bullshit.
Sawyer typed, I’m sorry, C. That’s gotta suck.
Next came a shrugging emoji. Then, Mom and I are gonna come by this weekend, check out your new digs, help you unpack.
Yay! Much as she knew how hard this move was going to be, and much as she might feel she needed to be alone during it, she also knew support from her family would help a great deal.
She signed off with Courtney and continued to lie on the floor for a bit longer. The place had warmed up nicely, though she knew from her weather app that the weekend was going to be almost summerlike, so she pushed to her feet and turned the heat back down.
Wandering a little longer felt right, so she did that, going from room to room, picturing her own furniture in the spaces, her own photos and artwork on the walls.
There was a door off the kitchen that David had forgotten to address, and she pulled it open.
The stairs to the basement were wooden but sturdy, and she followed them down into an open basement that ran the entire length of the house.
A washer and dryer stood in one corner, hers, clearly, and another set stood in the opposite corner.
That one had a bottle of laundry detergent and a box of dryer sheets, as well as a laundry basket next to it.
Along the far wall were heavy duty plastic shelves you buy at Lowe’s in a flat box and piece together, and they held several cardboard boxes, a few large pots, and a Crock-Pot.
The same kind of shelves lined her wall, empty of course, and she liked the idea of this extra storage space—something she didn’t have at her current apartment.
Yeah, this place was going to be perfect.
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket again, and she pulled it out as she headed back up to the kitchen.
A notification from her blog. She’d posted it a few days ago, so most of the commenting had eased up, but she’d still get a few here and there as traffic hit her site. She clicked to see the comment.
Why? Why do you have to crap on something that other people love? What do you get from doing that? So you don’t like reading romance. That’s fine, it’s your prerogative. But other people do, and you mocking them for it is just childish. Grow up.
“Well, okay then.” Obviously, it wasn’t the first time she’d received a comment that disagreed with her—that was par for the course—but she was pretty sure nobody’d ever called her childish before.
The comment came from somebody who called themselves “Romance BookLover.” “So creative,” she said with a slight eye roll.
Ah, well. Life of a blogger. Nature of the business. Came with the territory.
Before she could dwell on it any longer, a text message buzzed through.
Walk thru done? All good? It was Colton Reeves, her coworker and the person she was closest to aside from her sister.
All good. There now. She held up the phone and snapped a photo of the kitchen to send with the text.
Bangin! he sent back, and Sawyer laughed. “Dude, it’s a kitchen,” she whispered, but still appreciated his excitement. Text me the address again. She did. BTWs, I hate when you leave me here alone. SO BORING.
She grinned as she typed, eternally grateful for the goofy friendship they shared. Colton could always make her laugh. I’ll try not to let it happen again.
SEE THAT YOU DON’T.
She laughed again.
Hoping at least one of your movers is hot…
Shaking her head at his comments was a regular occurrence, and she typed, …and gay?
He sent a laughing emoji. Oh, honey, they’re only straight until they’re not.
They finished their conversation, confirmed times, and signed off. Sawyer pocketed the keys David Oliver had given her and took one last look around before she headed for the front door.
“Until tomorrow, new house. We’re gonna be good together.”