Chapter 1
“This is wonderful!”
The realtor stood next to the enthused brunette in front of a run-down Victorian farmhouse surrounded by overgrown orchards and scraggly shrubs. It looked like a Halloween haunted house to him, even though it had passed the inspection with minor defects and had solid foundations. The exterior paint was peeling, the roof gutters were sagging, and the top window was boarded up in depressing zombie apocalypse fashion. His mind trailed off to the stunning stewardess he had left behind after answering a call. The associate had caught a stomach bug, and he owed her for covering last week after giving the buyer’s wife a private tour of the walk-in closet during the open house.
“It just needs some TLC,” she said self-assuredly, looking up with her big brown eyes blooming as brightly as the flowers on her summer dress.
He politely smiled, still unsure what she saw in this dump. The renovations involved could only be fueled by masochism, and if it was up to him, the lot would be leveled out and sold as land.
Allison walked around the house toward a gazebo by a small pond. A willow tree draped its branches over the roof, lightly touching the water. Her dreamy eyes imagined leisurely breakfasts, meditation, and spending hours with a book in the fairytale setting. Maybe twinkly lights or a lantern for ambiance. Benedict saw a broken shed with a puddle.
“Water lilies would add a nice touch. Don’t you think?”
“Sure.”
“You aren’t into gardening, are you?”
“We have gardeners for that.”
“Well, sometimes we have to get our hands dirty and do the work.” She smiled at the man, who straightened his designer suit and checked his golden Rolex.
Benedict grinned widely. He liked to get dirty, but it didn’t involve gardening tools. They had walked around the house for the second time, and he hoped she wouldn’t want to tour inside again but rather go out to lunch and be his dessert.
“Why don’t we have another look? You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
“No worries,” he flashed a debonair smile. The best part about this showing was watching her hourglass curves, the floral dress accented her feminine features flawlessly, especially when he looked down at her cleavage and generous rear view.
With a skip in her step, she rushed up, doing a whirl on the wrap-around porch, and flung open the screen door. This time, she took pictures while brainstorming aloud, contemplating repairs and modernization. The pantry and laundry room by the backdoor led into the garden. The kitchen was filled with natural light, highlighting spaciousness, old sink fixtures, and walls with chipped tiles. Benedict leaned against the doorframe, watching Allison animatedly describing future improvements and culinary projects. These included harvesting the orchard fruit, making orange marmalade and lemon bars—painting a picture of a home cooking show and domesticated bliss. Her liveliness, eye for detail, vivid descriptions, and stories betrayed her vocation. The kitchen flowed into an oversized dining room with a chandelier; she stood under it, studying the ornate details. Across the hall from the dining room was a living room with a fireplace and unlawfully tacky wallpaper.
They moved upstairs, and squeaky steps joyfully announced their path. Herringbone hardwood bottomed every room. At the top of the stairs was a large window, to the right a master suite and to the left a loo and two bedrooms. The sleeping quarters had vintage wallpaper and crown moldings in surprisingly fine condition. Allison stood by a slightly cracked window in a guest bedroom, drawing circles on the dirty window, and giggled.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s a sign!”
“Sign for what?”
“That this will be my office, and I need a bigger window.”
Back in the living room, in her mind’s eye, she built her perfect library, filled with the most exquisite books and classics from around the world. Her daydreaming was interrupted by Benedict’s approach, and she took a step back.
“Are you ready to make an offer?”
Her “Yes” echoed in the large empty room.
“We can do paperwork over lunch. I know a great Italian bistro.”
Allison paused; she had grown used to working with Sandra over the past few months and thought he was just filling in for the showing.
“What about Sandra?”
“Don’t worry about her.”
The dismissive tone shot a cold shiver down her spine. “She put a lot of effort into finding the right house for me, and she’s a single mom. It would be wrong to take her commission away!”
His broad, six-four frame stiffened upon being lectured. “She will keep the commission.”
“Excellent! Then we can go to the office and draw up the papers.” She smiled and triumphantly headed out. Benedict shook his head unaccustomed to not getting his way. This wouldn’t be an exception.
***
The process was relatively painless; she bought the house with cash and moved in two weeks later. Allison didn’t have many belongings. Most of the boxes contained books, and the only furniture she had was a mattress, a folding table, and a treasure chest. The first week was spent in Cinderella mode from early in the morning until late at night, cleaning and scrubbing every corner of the house as her cat leisurely watched between naps. Even though the house was empty, it had a lot of character. She wondered what these walls had heard and seen in their lifetime. What stories did they hold in mute secrecy?
With all of her planning and preparations, she still ran into some sanity-challenging obstacles like the tiresome removal of layers upon layers of wallpaper, ant colony invasions, a moody water boiler, and the delayed arrival of her fridge and stove. In addition, the dry food and sardine diet was getting palatably uncomfortable.
Sitting by the desk on a chair she found in the barn, she jotted some notes in the planner before opening the laptop. The afternoon sun glazed the space, and a rainbow playfully shone through the crack in the glass. Allison checked the modem for a connection before calling her PA. She was greeted with a loud scream from one of the blondes and a hello from Karina holding the baby.
“I’m happy to see you too, Mateo!”
“Sorry about that. He’s teething, and everyone is going nuts.”
“No worries. The mute button was invented for a reason.”
They laughed.
“Did you read my email on contractors?”
“I did. It was quite extensive. Thank you.”
“Have you decided which one you want? I highlighted the best options in red.”
“It was hard to miss—especially the drool and heart emojis next to one particular carpenter.”
“Oh, Jackson Ford, Yesss! Did you know he went to the same high school as Kevin Costner and was a big hit as a quarterback?”
“I definitely didn’t; thank you, Mrs. Gumshoe!”
“He has no criminal record, is totally in your budget, and can get the job done in a timely manner! He’s a perfect fit!”
“Right . . . with the minor detail of staying in my house during the job!”
“For one, no locals were available ASAP, and he dropped the daily rate if you let him stay. He’s an experienced contractor. You’ll barely notice him as you work on your stuff and he builds your dream library! Unless he takes off his shirt. He’s quite the looker.”
“Karina!”
“What? I just accidentally saw some old Facebook pictures . . .”
Allison rolled her eyes; her PA was better than FBI counterparts when it came to research and had been attempting to be a matchmaker from the moment they met. Karina’s husband made an appearance, waved at her, and retrieved Mateo for his nap.
“I’m not sure it’s such a great idea . . .”
“Why not? Is it because of the realtor? Are you getting serious?”
“WHAT? No!”
“But he took you to Maestro’s!”
“It was just a celebratory dinner when I got the keys.”
“And the spa?”
Allison pulled out an envelope from under the notebooks and read the gift voucher. “Four Seasons Resort . . . Couples Suite retreat . . . side-by-side massage, topped off with two glasses of Champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries to enjoy in luxury VIP . . .”
“That sounds lovely!”
“I don’t think so!”
“What about the flower fruit basket?”
“It was just a housewarming gift basket. Actually, I liked the one Sandra sent me better.”
“You’re saying that only because it had cheese!”
“Maybe.”
Karina, unconvinced, pursued. “But you went on a second date!”
“I wouldn’t classify appliance shopping as a date. He was just in the neighborhood and tagged along.”
“Sure . . . in the neighborhood, my peaches! He’s really into you!”
“Sweetheart . . . Men have always liked me, and I would get a better spiritual fulfillment from a cactus dildo covered in whipped cream singing karaoke than that man.”
“Now, that’s a thought!”
“He’s a textbook, Casanova! You should have seen people at the restaurant and Best Buy. Women were practically fainting around him.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“You know why!”
“There must be some redeemable qualities about the tall, dark, handsome, Ivy League suit from NY . . .”
“Is there anything you don’t know about this guy?”
“His size.”
“Arghh . . . Yes, he is easy on the eyes, his cologne is seductive, and has a dapper fashion sense, but his inflated ego is nauseating. Anyways, I have Vivaldi, Hillman, and Jamie; I don’t need another boyfriend.”
“But the new Outlander season is months away! So someone should fill in the gaps!”
Silence.
“Okay, okay!” Karina threw her hands in the air. “Then let Jackson stay over for a bargain price, and maybe he will make you faint?” She winked at Allison.
“You’re crazy. You know that?”
“Only in the best way possible!”
“True!” she smiled at her wonderfully obnoxious friend.
“Listen, I can come down, and if you get a bad vibe from him, we can kick him out of the house. Deal?”
“Are you sure he’s qualified to do all the repairs and custom building, and it’s not your hormones pushing the deal?”
“What? Me? Don’t be silly,” she laughed. “You know I have more sex than the whole neighborhood combined!”
“I know, you and Leonardo are something special.”
“And you know our secret sauce!”
“It’s barely a secret,” Allison laughed.
“Repeat after me! Couples who play together stay together!”
“I’ll make a bumper sticker.”
“Listen, there are good men outside your books and movies, and I want you to find one too, and if not for a long haul, then a hell of a ride along the way! And to answer your concerns, yes, he has glowing references and can be in town in a matter of days.”
Allison whirled a hair lock around her finger for a thoughtful moment. “I am on a tight schedule,” she said more to herself than Karina.
“It’ll be great! Trust me!”
“There will be house rules!”
“Yes, Mother.”
“No, boozing, schmoozing, parties, and noise after nine!”
“Will you tuck him in if he’s a good boy?”
Allison gave her the eye, “I’ll tie him up and serve him with hot cocoa and marshmallows at your front door!”
“Now we’re talking!”
“Happy to oblige.”
“I’ll give him a call and let you know when we are coming.”
“Sounds like a plan. Thank you! Bye.”
“Ciao, Bella!”
***
The morning sun poured over the rustic floorboards, reaching the bed, and the cat stretched out, hitting Allison’s face with his paw. Her freckled nose wrinkled from the sudden high five, and she petted the furball rolling on her back, unwilling to open her eyes from the lingering sweet slumber. The alarm clock chimed nearby, and with another hand, she tried to find it, knocking over the upper portion of her improvised nightstand book tower. The resultant crash was enough to rouse her. She stretched, one foot sticking out from the covers with a fuzzy sock dangling from her toes. Pulling off the socks, she tucked them under the pillow and walked barefoot to the window.
Allison’s sleepy eyes surveyed the vast property. The grumpy latch released its hold, and she let in the morning’s airy rays—bird songs mixed with serene greenery and highways somewhere far away. A light ocean breeze painted goosebumps down her legs, and she was glad there were no neighboring spectators to see her standing there in just a T-shirt. She didn’t care to hear from the man’s world; peace and quiet was something she had been striving to attain for a long time; this was ideal. Technically, she didn’t need the ten acres of orchard fields, but the notion of selling it filled her with dread. If only there were a guarantee that whoever bought the land wasn’t noisy—or nosy!
Pondering this and that, she moved about her morning routine, migrating to the kitchen. They sat on a folded flat cardboard box surrounded by arabica and fishy aromas. Vivaldi had a freshly opened can of mackerel and a dinky teacup with water, while Allison rummaged through the gift basket for a jam or spread for her toast. Not finding any, she munched on cheese, downing her first cup of coffee. All the while, she savored the peaceful minutes, taking it all in, still in awe that she owned the house. Allison chuckled, noticing that the white tile wall and her cat’s fur had the same sparkly pearl quality in direct sunlight. She stroked the long-haired Turkish Angora beauty, and he purred, still busy with his meal. “Pearls sparkled in their iridescent melody. I like that!” she said aloud, grabbed a pen, and quickly jotted it down where she had just sat. Allison was in the habit of having pens and pencils in every place with scraps of paper ready because you never knew when ideas or beautiful words would present themselves.
