Chapter 14 Harmony Unpicked
Harmony Unpicked
The sun was setting behind the mountains when they arrived home. Heidi kicked her shoes off at the door and carried the groceries through to the kitchen. “I should have bought a bottle of wine. A glass as I cook dinner would be perfect. Or while sitting on the back patio and watching that sunset.”
Morgan disappeared into the walk-in pantry. A minute later, she reappeared, a bottle of California red in her hand. “That sounds perfect to me. Let’s open this.”
“No argument from me.” Heidi opened cabinets in turn, looking for glasses, and then put two on the counter.
Morgan poured and then held up her glass for Heidi to clink. “Cheers. Here’s to this living arrangement working out for both of us.”
“Yes. I’m cool with it so far. You?” A knot of doubt twined around Heidi’s throat. What was there to not work so far?
“Same.”
The knot dissolved. Hopefully, in another couple of weeks, she’d be on a more permanent footing with Morgan.
She pushed the dinner ingredients to one side and found the bag of chips she’d thrown into the cart at the last moment and held it up.
“You. Me. Wine. Chips. The patio. The sunset.” She raised an eyebrow. Did Morgan eat junk food?
“Sure,” Morgan said after a moment.
The sun was nearly gone, painting the white-tipped mountains with an ethereal glow. Heidi pulled the outside chairs closer together and set the chips on the table between them. “Thank you for today. Hands down my best day in Denver so far. I hope it didn’t mess with your plans too much.”
“It’s okay.” Morgan took a handful of chips and ate one. “What flavor is this? It’s rather gross.”
Heidi turned the packet. “Fried pickle. I wanted to try them.” She ate one. “And now that I have, I never will again. It’s back to good old salt and vinegar for me.” She took a sip of wine. “This, though. This is rather fine.”
“It was a gift from my boss. He has an actual cellar, so it’s not surprising it’s good.”
“Nice. The only thing Robert’s ever given me is a tip for the football. The team lost. Lucky I didn’t actually place a bet.”
She rested her feet on the low table and tipped her head back. “Talk to me, Morgan. You’re a bit of an enigma. Woman of mystery and all that.”
“There’s not much to know.” Morgan’s gaze shifted to the mountains. “My parents live in New Jersey where I grew up. I’m an only child. I moved to Denver for college and loved it, so I never left.”
“That sounds like something you’d put on a résumé. Or in the medical history part of your chart.”
Morgan shifted in the chair. “Really, there’s not much to me.”
“I think there is.” Heidi turned to face her so she could see Morgan’s expression.
“I don’t know you well, but I already know that you’re very neat and tidy.
You’re protective of your space—your home—and you’re not entirely comfortable with having a roommate.
I’m sure you’ve got your reasons for having one, and I’m not going to pry.
You have a high-powered job, and you’re conscientious in your hours.
I’m willing to bet you’re very good at what you do.
That’s probably a safer bet than Robert’s tip for the Green Bay Packers.
Going by your home décor, your favorite color is a blue gray, and you’re diligent about using your home gym—you’re obviously very fit.
I haven’t met any of your friends yet, but I think you prefer a few close friends to a pack of acquaintances to get drunk with.
” She sipped her wine again. “That’s all I know about you. ”
“That’s more than most people. You’re very observant.”
“That’s the bartender’s eye. If I get into DU, I want to major in psychology. I don’t know much about it so far, but I guess being open and observant could be the difference between a good therapist and a crappy one.”
“You want to do clinical psychology or research?”
“You’re good at changing the subject when you don’t want to talk about something. That’s okay, Morgan. I don’t want to intrude. I’m just trying to get to know you a bit better, given that we’re living together and all. And yes, clinical psychology. Therapy. Helping people. Or trying to, anyway.”
“You’ll be good at it. Did you have a positive experience with your own therapist?”
“I’ve never had therapy. It’s not as common in Australia—and the waiting lists are longer, with more roadblocks than the president’s speeches.” She flashed a smile. “Not the case here, from what I gather.”
“The waiting lists or the president’s speeches?”
“The wait times.”
“Depends on how good your insurance is.”
“Right.” Heidi worried her bottom lip with her teeth. Insurance. Just another thing to think about. Her traveler’s policy would expire in a few months—and she’d hoped to have insurance through a job by then. “I guess you have insurance through your company.”
Morgan’s hand froze for a second as she lifted her glass. “Yes. It’s a good policy.” The glass continued to her lips.
Heidi looked away, back to the last of the glow on the Rockies. So Morgan didn’t appreciate personal questions. So silly nonprobing ones, then. “First concert you ever went to?”
Morgan’s lips quirked up. “Is this twenty questions?”
“Maybe. You get to ask one next.”
“Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. Red Rocks. 2010. What can I say? I was a late developer in the concert stakes.”
“But you started big. Mine was The Vines—an Aussie rock band. They played a pub in Cairns. Not sure if that counts. Your turn.”
“Um…least favorite sport?”
“That’s easy. American football. They show the games at the Fly Inn. It’s thirty seconds of action then a long stretch of nothing. I can restock the fridge, serve three customers, and email my mom and when I look up, still nothing has happened. What’s yours?”
“Darts. It seems once you get good, it’s hard to miss the target, and it’s the same thing over and over. You’re wrong about American football, though. Although we just call it football.”
“Of course you would.” Heidi took a sip of wine. “Any superstitions?”
“No. I suppose you have some?”
“More family traditions than superstitions. If you put on a piece of clothing inside out, you can’t change it. It has to stay like that all day. Made for some interesting times at school. If the cows are lying down, it’s going to rain, so we used to shout at them to get up. That sort of thing.”
“Not many cows where I grew up. Or in central Denver, for that matter.”
The sun had gone, and the cold was stealing in fast. Morgan shivered. “Let’s go inside before we freeze to the seat.”
Inside was toasty warm. Heidi shed her outer layers and pushed up the sleeves of her shirt. “Dinner will be about forty minutes.”
The chicken recipe was one she knew by heart—her never-fail meal. In a few minutes, the chicken was marinating, the salad washed, and the rice ready to go on.
Morgan slid from her stool. “I’ll set the table.”
Heidi continued preparing salad and smiled as music came over the speakers. Tom Petty. It seemed Morgan was taking a trip down memory lane. She slid the chicken under the broiler and turned on the rice cooker.
Her phone rang. “Hey, Lula.”
“Hey, friend. I’m on my break, so this is quick. But you want to catch up on Sunday? I got wheels today. Nothing special, just an old Buick, but it goes. I could stop by your place, and we could go have breakfast, if you’d like?”
“Congrats on the wheels. And Sunday, I’m working at two, so brekkie sounds awesome. How about you come here? I’ll cook. Does nine work for you?”
“Awesome. I can check out your new living space. Meet the hot housemate.”
Had she said Morgan was hot? She must have. “Sure.” She gave Lula the address. “See you Sunday.”
The chicken was grilling nicely. She turned it, then picked up the remains of the wine and went out to the living area.
Morgan was placing napkins on the table, folding them so the edges aligned. Heidi’s lips twitched. They matched the drapes… In fact, weren’t they the same material? That was extreme interior design.
“I like your Tom Petty revival playlist.” She topped up their glasses.
“Nothing revival about it. I have a Tom Petty playlist on Spotify. Should I find The Vines for you?”
“No need—they sound great in a pub but a bit loud for now. That was my mate Lula on the phone. She’s coming here for breakfast before my shift on Sunday.
” Heidi tapped a finger on the back of a chair.
Should she invite Morgan to join them? It would be friendly.
Any other housemate, she wouldn’t hesitate. “Eat with us, if you want.”
“Maybe. I always call my parents on Sunday mornings. They’d worry if I don’t.”
Really? That seemed restrictive, but that was what it was. “No worries.” She went back to the kitchen to check on dinner.
A short while later, Heidi pushed her plate back. “I’m stuffed. I cooked too much.” She dabbed at her mouth with the napkin.
Morgan, too, put down her fork. “That was delicious. Love the chicken.”
“I’ll give you the recipe. It’s easy as. Great for when you want to appear like you’re a real cook. Impress someone with your knife skills. Uh…not that I was trying to impress you.”
“No, of course not.” Morgan’s lips twitched. “Roomies don’t need to impress each other.”
“They just need to clean up after themselves.” Heidi poured the last of the wine. “Which I will do. In a minute. Or ten.”
Morgan stood and took their plates out to the kitchen. “I’ll clean up. You cooked.”
“We can do it together.” Heidi yawned. “In a minute.”
“Or ten. Let’s finish our wine first.”
“The wine is worthy of appreciation.” On the rare occasions she had a glass of wine after her shift, it was cheap red that Robert offered her, from a bottle that had been open too long. She picked up her glass and went over to the couch.
Morgan joined her, sitting on one end, her feet neatly crossed at the ankles.
Heidi hooked up one knee and faced her. “We could watch a movie. If we can agree on one.”
“We need popcorn and treats for that.” Morgan pushed her hair back behind her ears. “I have microwave popcorn. What do you like to watch?”