Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Sam
As much as I tried to embrace hope last night, reality hits me the next morning. I need a place to live and a job, and I need them as soon as possible.
I didn’t realize how little control of my finances I had until… Well, I don’t even want to think about that because it skewers me with that old sense of helplessness and shame for being so clueless, so I focus on the solutions. I did my best to set aside money, and that counts for something.
I have my phone, and the coffee shop has free Wi-Fi.
I’ll go get another delicious latte and milk it for every second I can while I search for jobs and apartments.
I may not have the sunny outlook I did years ago, but I’ve got a belly full of determination.
This is the fresh start I fought for, so I’m going to figure it out.
May greets me with another wide smile when I step up to the counter. I’m relieved she’s here. Even though we don’t actually know each other, she’s one of the only familiar faces I have right now, and she didn’t pry as much as I feared she would.
Low bar, but I’m not going to second-guess the way I’m drawn to this little shop.
“Are you at the Juniper View Inn?” she asks, hands moving at warp speed to pull the espresso for my drink while her face is serene.
I walked by the inn which sits a block off the main square and it’s completely adorable. I wish! “Oh, no, I’m at a little place right out of town.”
“Wait, no, tell me you’re not at Motel Misery. No, girl. You cannot be staying there by yourself.” She’s dumping and pouring all the while.
I shift from foot to foot. “It’s fine. Just until I find a place.”
“Yeah? How’s that going? I know Dec said there were a few places, but I went and looked after I closed, and no.” She shakes her head, her skepticism that it’s going well at all ringing clear as the bell over the door.
There’s no reason to tell her, but the urge to talk this through with someone is a powerful one.
I haven’t had this, and despite the twist of worry that sharing anything with this bright, lovely person will be too much, I drop my guard a touch.
I’m not about to bare it all, but she’s so warm and welcoming, and the human part of me that longs for connection despite knowing the risks of it lets loose a little bit.
“I went to see one place that was a hard no. Unfortunately, that’s all I’ve found that’s even an option based on the rent, plus I have a cat so that ruled one adorable little spot closer into the center of town out.”
“What kind of place are you looking for? House? Apartment? Need space for horses or anything?” She hands me the mug filled with my steaming latte, then uses two fingers to push away the cash I offer her.
“Nuh-uh. You need this coffee if you’ve spent the night at the motel. Please, it’s on the house.”
I start to protest but she just holds up a hand, then prompts, “So what are you looking for?”
Peace. Safety. Friendship. A new life. Maybe the ability to fully forgive myself.
“Nothing fancy. Affordable. No horses, so no big space needed. It’s just me and my cat.
I was in a studio before so that’s fine.
Really, whatever I can get at this point.
” Well, not quite whatever, since I do have standards, but they aren’t all that high.
They just require a basic level of sanitization and a landlord who doesn’t leer at me.
Someone else is behind me so I step to the side. “Thanks for this. It’s so nice of you.”
She waves me away as she welcomes the newcomer, and I find a seat at the same table I used last time. And just like yesterday, it’s only a minute before she ends up sliding into the seat across from me, then nudges a slice of quiche on a ceramic plate in my direction.
“I have an idea.”
This feels so random. I don’t even know this girl, but she’s sitting there with her sparkly dark blue eyes and gorgeous hair braided over her shoulder and her lovely, freckled face and she looks expectant.
I genuinely love how instantly she talks to me like she knows me. In a way, it makes me feel like I don’t have to give her any more of me because she seems satisfied enough with what’s on the surface.
The thought doesn’t quite make sense, but I embrace it. “Please share.”
She cups a mug of her own and sips it, taking a beat to savor the drink before she launches in.
“I used to live in this super cute apartment above a garage. I recently moved out—nothing bad happened, but it was super close to my family, and I’ve always been under their thumb, so I wanted more space. ”
She makes a face I can’t decipher, likely because I can’t imagine what it’s like to be under a parent’s thumb. I have a shred of a relationship left with my mom and that’s been the case for over a decade now.
“Anyway, I promised the owner I’d help find a new tenant, and I think it might be perfect for you.” She’s smiling so wide, her cheeks must hurt.
The prospect of finding a place that is decent fills me with anticipation, but I need more information. “Can you tell me more? Whose garage is it? And do they accept pets? Do you know the rent?”
She shrugs and stands because another customer has just walked in.
“Oh, totally fine with cats. Rent is super reasonable, and utilities and stuff are included so it’s low stress.
And it’s on my parents’ property, which includes a lot of farmland, so it’s very low-key.
It’s about ten minutes outside of town, but I can totally show you the place when we close at noon if you want. ”
She walks away like she hasn’t just handed me what sounds like a wonderful opportunity.
Not ideal that it’s outside of town. I will definitely have to get the tire fixed because the donut isn’t going to survive much longer. But if the rent is reasonable and I can get an income going soon, this could be perfect.
No creepy landlord. She seems to feel living close to her parents wouldn’t be an issue for me, and if they’re mostly normal humans, she’s probably right. I don’t plan to party or even have guests.
I just want to be left alone. To rebuild some semblance of a life where I can make my own choices and not—not be failing at every possible turn.
And not be worried I’m constantly making the wrong choice.
Maybe then, I can figure out what comes next beyond hanging on by a thread.
With a sip of my delicious latte, I whisk away those thoughts and start searching for openings.
I applied at the handful of local jobs I saw, but there’s work to be done online.
I’ve spent the last decade scrubbing toilets and polishing silver, but I’ve tried to add skills when I could.
Whenever my library gave a class on topics like Excel or accounting, I signed up.
I even took a few college courses years ago and had planned to slowly work toward my bachelor’s.
I have my associate’s and then some, but I got caught up in the hamster wheel of working and paying bills I couldn’t quite afford so I had to quit pursuing anything more… until Andrew.
Since I don’t want to give that man any more of my time, I flick open the job placement website I’ve signed up with. Yes, there’s some risk to having an online profile, but I can’t disappear completely, and this server is as secure as possible. Plus, he shouldn’t want to find me, anyway.
It’s noon when I come up for air to find May hovering over me.
“Ready to go check it out?”
“More than ready.” I grin.
Which honestly feels so good. I haven’t been smiling, and it’s only in the last day or so here I realized how sad that is. My natural state, at least one point in time, was positive and hopeful. I lost that during my marriage, but I’ve worked hard to rediscover my mental health.
I don’t have the rose-colored glasses of living somewhere new and discovering the gems in this small town like I might’ve before.
But so far, the people are great—creepy landlord excluded—and the stores are adorable.
There’s already so much good, and so much I’ve been hoping for here, I can’t help but smile.
As stressed as I was leaving LA and getting here, I feel so much lighter already.
Recognizing the lightness has me stumbling over my own feet as I find my car.
I’ve seen enough to know a few positive interactions doesn’t mean there’s nothing to worry about.
I’d be a fool to skip around and pretend like the hard-won lessons life has taught me won’t apply here, too.
But I can make it; I know this, inside and out.
So, I follow behind her as she navigates on the state road leading out of town in a direction I haven’t been yet, but I hold my wariness close.
I’d planned to drive around and get a feel for the town and surrounding area, but I haven’t dared do that on the donut. But for this? A potential place to stay? Worth the risk and having to stay a touch below the speed limit.
We pull down a long, freshly paved driveway that cuts through tall pines and other trees and eventually ends at a lovely house that looks like something straight out of the dreams I never let myself dream.
Two stories with a wide porch and four windows facing the drive.
There are bushes in front, all tidy and trimmed back for winter.
Next to the main house is a large garage—three bays are below including one that is the full height of the building that looks like it might house an RV or a gigantic boat, and a door is on the opposite end.
“So that’s the door—there are stairs up. Shall we?” She twirls a set of keys around one finger.
I smile, trying to take in everything I need to.
It looks safe from what I can tell—sturdy locks and door, perfectly clean from the landscaping of neat white rocks in a bed surrounding squatty bushes lining the building, and not a speck of trash or dirt all the way up the stairs on the interior.
There’s another door at the top, and then inside, my heart flutters when I see the space.
“Oh.” It escapes involuntarily.
“I know it’s super small, but I’m hoping—”
“No, it’s adorable. I don’t know what I expected from an over-the-garage place, but this is so homey and cute.”
It has a wrought-iron bed in the far corner and along the same wall about ten feet away is a TV on a black painted stand and a cushy oatmeal-colored couch with a rainbow of throw pillows in each corner.
The space feels separate because of a pretty green screen with pine trees lightly outlined in gold.
Directly opposite the living room is a tiny kitchen, though it has a full-sized fridge and oven.
To the left of where we are is a door I assume is a bathroom.
I see at least two places to roll out a yoga mat, and one of the three windows is letting in enough sun to create a spot on the floor, which means Mr. Bingley will have a sunny napping place.
“It’s not bad. It has everything you need, and you’ll get creative if you have to.” She smiles as she looks at the place and I believe she has good memories here.
That, maybe more than how cozy it already seems to me, makes me certain I could live here. Maybe, like it was for her, this little home could be a place where I can rest. Maybe eventually even taste some of that happiness for myself.
“I’m definitely interested.” My voice shakes and I knit my fingers together because I am so much more than that. I’m also painfully aware I may not be able to afford it.
“Rent is reasonable, and I mentioned utilities are included. You get one of the garage bays, which is very welcome on snow days. Delivery out here is fine, though sometimes they’ll mix up a box and it’ll go to the main house, but they’ll get it sorted out once they know you’re over here. Small-town bonus.” She winks.
I chuckle and tamp down my nerves, steeling myself, then ask what rent is, specifically. When she tells me, everything in me relaxes because I can do that. Even if I can’t find a job for another week or two, I can pay that amount, still eat something, and live here.
“How soon is it available?”
She grins. “Right this minute. Let’s go get your stuff and move you in!”
I laugh full-out now but accept, because I have no choice about it. This place is mine. It feels like it chose me.
And I can’t help but feel like everything that has happened today is showing me I’m meant to be here—in Juniper View and yes, right here, too.
The instant that thought crosses my mind, there’s a pit in my stomach. Nothing in my life has worked this way—seamlessly, easily, almost joyfully. And that realization clicks in just in time.
I won’t be lulled into complacency or even a false sense of security. There will be another shoe dropping, and when it does, I won’t be caught daydreaming of sunny spots and possibilities.