Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
REECE
Mum wakes as I pull off Highway 24 onto Wild Pine Road. “It’s so nice to be home.”
I throw a frown at her. “Since when is a log cabin in the mountains of Oregon ‘home’ for you? You’ve only been here once before.”
She yawns again and gives me a sleepy smile. “I assume you have a bed and a hot shower? Those things equal ‘home’ after a long flight in steerage.”
“You flew first class.”
“It was so nice of that agent to upgrade us.”
“Our credit card points paid for that upgrade,” Dad grumbles from the back seat.
“But she suggested it.” Mum glances over her shoulder with a raised brow. “You wouldn’t have considered it if she hadn’t suggested it.” She turns to me. “I tried to get him to do it when we bought the tickets months ago. My friend Rebecca keeps telling me if we don’t fly first class, our kids will. Not that I begrudge you flying first class, but why should you have all the fun?”
I grunt in reply. The closer we get to the ranch, the more guilty I feel about not telling Andi until this morning. We’ve only been living together for a week—it’s way too early for her to meet my parents.
Not that we have that kind of relationship. Even though a growing part of me wishes we did. That almost-kiss has haunted my thoughts and even intruded on my dreams—when I’ve been able to sleep. Living in the same house as Andi when she believes we have a completely platonic relationship has not been good for my sleep cycle.
Which is why I’ve been avoiding her. I don’t want to talk about that kiss. She’s moving back to Freiberg at the end of the month—she’ll be classified as an illegal alien if she doesn’t. And I suspect a former royal might find it difficult to stay under the radar.
So, rather than start a doomed relationship with her, I’ve avoided talking to her at all. And worked myself into a stupor each day so I can try to sleep at night. It’s stupid, but I’ve never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed.
It’s still light out when we pull into the driveway. My eyes dart eagerly across the property, but Andi’s rusty orange car is nowhere to be seen. She’s probably at one of the town’s eternal fests. But since my parents both fell asleep as soon as we left the airport, I didn’t get a chance to tell them about her. “Before we go in, I need to tell you both something.”
Mum pats my arm and opens the car door. “We know how renovations are. Don’t worry about the mess.” She climbs out, groaning, and shuts the door behind her.
“No. Wait.” With an exasperated sigh, I get out and heave their massive suitcases out of the truck bed. “How long are you planning to stay? A year?”
“That’s what I said.” Dad takes the handle of both little carry-ons and drags them down the paved path through the new landscaping. “Nice work on the yard, son.”
“Those purple spiky plants are pretty. Is that lavender?” Mum pauses to sniff a plant, then hurries ahead and throws the front door open. “I brought you some things for the house. I can’t wait to see what you’ve gotten done.”
“Mum—” I hoist the suitcases onto the wooden planks of the porch and follow them inside.
“Oh, look at that lovely kitchen!” Mum stands beside the couch gazing at the window-like opening to the kitchen. A couple of electric candles flicker on a piece of cardboard laid across the open countertop. In the gathering dusk, the effect hides the imperfections of the incomplete work but makes the new structure clear.
Andi knows how to make a renovation look good.
“Obviously, it’s not finished—” I break off at Mum’s scoffing sound.
“I didn’t expect it to be.” She moves closer to peer into the dark end of the room. “But you can see the bones, and it’s going to be fantastic. That company you hired knows their stuff.”
“Actually, I didn’t end up going with Western Harmony.” Leaving the bags at the base of the stairs, I cross the room. Andi folded the plastic away from the sofa and swept up the dust. The scraps of drywall are gone, and the whole house smells of lemon and vanilla. I spot a little electric device putting out vapor on a table by the back windows. “I hired a new person to help me with the designs, so I could do the work myself.”
“Save a lot of money that way.” Dad nods in approval. He grew up poor, so he’s frugal in all things.
“Well, it looks amazing.” Mum lifts one of the candles and looks around. “Does the power work?”
“Of course. How do you think I cut all that drywall?” I flip a switch by the door, and we all flinch and squint.
Mum taps the top of the peninsula. “This will look good when you get the countertops on. Is the sink here?”
I point at a drawing tacked to the far wall. “That’s the plan. The stove and fridge will go back where they were, and the sink is in the new counter.” I tap the image as I talk through the layout. “When it’s done, there’s room for a nicer eat-in area, and that wide doorway gives easy access to the living room.”
“Perfect!” Mum turns slowly, taking in the space. “So much more open than before. That tiny galley was the only thing I didn’t like about this house.”
I nod in agreement. “Are you two hungry? We have a sort of kitchen set up in the garage.”
“We?” Mum stops dead, staring at me. “Who’s we?”
“Andi, my designer. We spend a lot of time here, so we tried to make it as comfortable as possible.”
“And of course you’re living here. You need a place for meals.” She wanders down the tiny hallway leading past the laundry and half-bath and opens the garage door. Feeling to the side of the door jamb, she finds the switch and turns on the light. “Oh, this is nice.”
Andi obviously spent some time tidying up the garage as well. Her tablecloth lends a little elegance to the chipped old breakfast table, and she’s added a pot of yellow and orange miniature mums. Another electric candle—this one turned off—completes the center piece.
Mum reaches out and touches the flowers. “Why, these are made of felt! Did Andy do this? He’s very clever.”
I choke. “Andi isn’t a guy, Mum.”
She turns and gives me a long look. “Really?” I’m not sure I like the look in her eye.
“Really. You’ll probably meet her soon. I’m kind of surprised she’s not here.”
Mum looks at her watch, then shakes her arm and puts it to her ear. “This thing must be dead.”
“Mum, it’s a smart watch. They don’t tick. If you haven’t turned your phone back on, it might not have updated to local time yet.” I take her wrist and tap the watch. “No, it’s correct.”
“Why would your interior designer be here at seven o’clock on a Friday evening?” Her eyes narrow and a sly smile turns up the corners of her mouth. “Is she more than just your designer?”
“What? No.” Even though I might wish she was. But I don’t say that, of course. I’m not crazy.
She gives me a long look. “That’s a shame. You need a girl, Reece.” She pats my cheek and turns back toward the house. “Where did your father get to? I need to use the loo.” She knocks on the half-bath door.
“Occupied,” Dad calls out.
“I’m going upstairs.” She scurries away. “Bring up the bags, will you, Reece?”
I grab the two large suitcases. The things are so heavy I can only go a step at a time. “Seriously, Mum, did you pack gold bricks?”
“Just an anvil, dear!” She laughs as she closes the bathroom door behind her.
I roll the bags across the narrow landing and into the big bedroom. Andi has left her mark here, too, with another bouquet of flowers—these made from ribbon—and another device diffusing lavender this time. The pillows stand against the headboard, their covers crisp and smooth. She’s unearthed a bright patchwork quilt from somewhere and draped it across the foot of the bed.
Andi and I switched rooms when the mattress arrived for the second bed, so she’s in the guest room now. I grab my bedroll from the closet floor and head for the office. On the way, I glance into Andi’s room. The door is open, and the bed is made. She even cleaned up her usual disaster of clothing draped over everything.
In the office, I drop my bedroll beside the desk, then notice an envelope propped on the keyboard, addressed to me in Andi’s tidy, almost calligraphic, handwriting. With a sinking feeling, I take the note and open it.
“Reece. It will be crowded with four of us, so I’m going to stay with Teo. I’ll be back Monday to help with mudding. Andi.”
She’s moved out.
I guess I should have expected that when I sprang this visit on her at the last moment. I glare at the little white card, thick and rough in my fingers—hand-made paper. It’s so like Andi to use this instead of a sticky note. Even a message left for her housemate is elegant.
Housemate. That’s all we are to each other, so why do I feel so abandoned?
The bathroom door opens. I shove the card into my back pocket and meet my mum in the hallway. “You’re in the bigger bedroom.”
She peers past me into the guest room. “You got a guest bed? You didn’t have to move out of your room for us!”
“No, it’s fine.” I nudge her toward the bigger room. “It’s not like I have a lot of stuff in there. I’m basically camping out until the reno is done.” Besides, maybe sleeping in Andi’s room will decrease this ridiculous crush of abandonment.
Mum walks into the room and looks around, nodding in approval as she touches the flowers on the bedside table. “How welcoming. Your Andi seems like a very thoughtful woman. Is she single?”
“I told you, Mum, it’s not like that.”
“Ah, so she is.” She smiles and plops down on the bed. “What are your plans, after the renovation is complete?”
I shrug and drop beside her. “I’m not sure. After I flip this place, guess I’ll look for another location. It depends on how much I make on the sale. And if I ever manage to sell the Wanderweg house.”
“We might want to keep it.” Mum smooths the quilt. “Dad misses the States. And I wouldn’t mind spending a few months here every year.”
“In Oregon? What about Texas?” I never dreamed my father would move away from his home state, but he’s been in England for way longer than I expected. If they’re going to have a US home, the northwest seems like an unusual choice.
“Who knows. Maybe we’ll get a place there, too.” She laughs.
“Grandad had that much money?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” She draws a finger over the seams of the blanket, outlining the triangles of fabric. “You’d never have known the stingy old coot owned half the houses in Notting Hill. Not really, but it feels like it. Selling has provided us with enough to buy four or five places in the US, if we wanted. Although, maybe a little more rural than this. Central Oregon is expensive.”
“Tell me about it. The whole northwest has gone up like crazy. Which is why I was thinking we should sell it.” As I say the words, I wince internally. I’ve gotten comfortable here in Rotheberg. Made connections, friends. And even if Andi returns to Freiberg, surely she’ll visit on occasion? The idea of not seeing her punches a hole in my chest.
Mum yawns. “Do you have plans for tonight? Because I think I could eat a snack, then sleep for a week.”
I jump up. “Sorry, no! No plans except you. I have some ready-made stuff in the fridge. Then you can go to bed.”
“You should go out.” She follows me down the stairs. “Friday night in America. Isn’t there a football game or something? I’ve missed that. Your father and I did a lot of courting in the stands of football games. Maybe your designer friend is around.”
“Mum! It’s not like that.”
“Why isn’t it?”