Chapter 27 Knox #2
“This is great and all,” Ava says, clasping her hands together. “But I want to see your old room.”
I gesture for her to follow, and lead the way down the hall. “Don’t get too excited. It’s a far cry from when I lived in it.”
One of the more recent owners did quite a bit of painting, none of it in keeping with the style of the home, or, as far as I can tell, good taste.
I’ve been working to patch and sand all the walls, and soon I’ll start repainting—if I don’t break down and hire a contractor to do it first.
My progress was slow over the summer and focused primarily on the exterior. Now, with hockey season in full swing, I’ve barely had any time to work on the house. There’s still so much to do. It’s starting to feel like the land of a thousand abandoned projects.
At the current rate, I’ll be retired before the house is ready for move-in.
We enter my old bedroom, which has been painted a violent shade of fuchsia, and Ava cackles. “It’s so…you.”
I swat her on the backside. “Keep laughing, and I won’t show you the best part.”
“There’s a best part?”
There is. It’s the reason I bought the house. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to make an offer.
“Look inside the closet.”
Her eyes narrow, but she complies, poking her head inside and flipping the switch. “What am I—oh!”
Ava disappears into the closet, and when I peer inside, she’s crouched on one knee, head tilted to read the marks on the wall.
“Is this your growth chart?”
“It is.” I stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
“My mom wanted to put it in the pantry, but apparently my dad thought it was tacky, so she put it in the back of my closet.” I glance around the small space, taking in the nicks and scratches that cover the walls.
“It turned out to be fortuitous since the previous owners painted everything except the closets.”
“This is really sweet.” Ava climbs to her feet. “I never had anything like this growing up. We moved around too much to put down these kinds of roots.” She gestures to the chart. “You should find a way to preserve it.”
She’s right, of course, and I mentally add it to my ever-growing list of projects.
We make our way downstairs, Ava oohing and aahing over the expansive windows and the pool that’s seen better days. I’ve been on the resurfacing waitlist for months, and the pool guy assures me it’ll be done before summer.
I save the kitchen for last. It’s my favorite part of the house, and I want Ava to love it as much as I do.
She trails her fingers over the top of the island, using a combination of sight and touch to explore, just as she’s done throughout the rest of the house. “So this is where the magic happened.”
Magic?
The confusion must show on my face, because she adds, “Where you learned to bake.”
“Oh, yeah. Every Sunday, though the space was a little more welcoming back then.”
The kitchen is in need of a major overhaul, but I’ve been dragging my feet because I can’t decide on a design scheme. Most aspects of the renovation have been a breeze, but when it comes to the kitchen, I’m just…stuck.
“I can picture it,” Ava says, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms over her stomach. “Little Knox on a stepstool, the sunlight cascading through these amazing windows, as your mom helps you read the recipes and measure ingredients.”
It’s a pretty damn accurate depiction, and it gives me an idea.
“Do you think you could help me with something?”
She perks up. “I can try. What is it?”
I gather the samples from my makeshift desk in the pantry and spread them out on the island.
“I’ve been trying to choose a design scheme for the kitchen, but I just can’t seem to decide.” Her eyes go round. “It’s going to be a total gut job. New floors, new cabinets, and new counters.”
“Knox, this is totally out of my wheelhouse. I’ve never designed a house, or a kitchen,” she adds, rushing to cut me off at the pass. “Why not just choose what you like best?”
“Trust me, I’ve tried. Many times.” The back of my neck begins to tingle, and I rub it. “The best I’ve been able to do is narrow it down, but I can’t commit. Nothing feels right. Maybe with a fresh pair of eyes, we can figure this out together.”
After all, someday this will be her kitchen too.
But it’s probably best to keep that thought to myself. For now, anyway.
“The slate cabinets are sharp,” she says, her fingers tracing the simple lines of the sample. “Very modern. Very masculine.”
“But?” I’m definitely sensing a but here.
“You could soften them up with a lighter counter, but they’ll probably show a lot of dirt and fingerprints too. If you ever have pets or kids…” She trails off, leaving my imagination to fill in the blanks.
Is that what she wants? Pets? Kids? I’d love to get a dog. I was never allowed to have one growing up, but with my travel schedule, it would be challenging during the season. As for kids, I haven’t given them too much thought. Maybe someday, but for now I’m content to focus on hockey. And Ava.
“White is always a classic, and it would amplify the sunlight in here.” She picks up a dark blue sample, and her eyes go to the cracked backsplash behind the sink.
“Maybe you could add a pop of color to the island. It would be a way to honor your mom’s legacy and give a subtle nod to the kitchen where she taught you to bake. ”
I stare at Ava, flummoxed. The kitchen design has been in limbo for weeks while I’ve wrestled to make a decision, unable to let go of the past or commit to the future. And in a matter of minutes, she’s identified the struggle I couldn’t—or wouldn’t—give credence.
Ava flushes. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea. Forget I said anything.”
“No, this is brilliant. You’re brilliant.
What you just described? That’s exactly what I want.
” I point to the blue cabinet sample. “A mix of the old and the new. A place that feels modern, yet familiar. My best memories of my mom are in this kitchen, and I want to feel her presence when I’m baking, just like I did when I was little. ”
We talk it through, and by the time we’re done, we’ve got a solid plan for the kitchen. The unexpected progress is a boon, and I’m feeling pretty damn good as I boost Ava onto the island and wedge myself between her knees.
“Thank you.”
Her brow furrows. “For what?”
“For being you, and for understanding what I needed, even when I couldn’t find the words to tell you.”
She cups my face and presses her forehead to mine. “I’m glad I could help. I know how much this house means to you, and how important it is to get every detail right.”
“The funny thing is, I’ve been fixing this place up, but there’s been no timeline.
No plan to move in. I never thought about what comes after, when I’m done.
” I press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Now, thanks to you, I can actually see myself living in this house again, making new memories to cherish alongside the old ones.”
And I want Ava to be beside me for all of it. The question is, does she?