now.
In the back of the house, where Barb hustled the breakfasters, was her business. Customers—usually moms—entered from the back door.
A bathroom and curtained-off changing area took up the north wall; the massage center dominated the room’s center. The counters, sink, stand-alone tub and massage tables were all white—not shiny, in-your-face white, but an ultrasoft clean white.
All, that is, except for one corner, where dusty bags of cement, heaped stacks of stones and long boxes of plumbing parts looked as out of place as mud in a hospital. Further, the sledgehammer in front of it at all was almost bigger than she was. She may have overbought there, just a tad.
“What in God’s name have you gotten yourself into, girl?” Gary questioned, hands on hips.
Phoebe was still carrying her bowl of grapefruit. It was impossible to explain that once she’d cleaned the place stem to stern—even the windows—she still couldn’t get her mind off the damn man. He was hurting, she just knew it. Not letting anyone help him, she knew that, too. But it wasn’t her problem—and wasn’t going to be her problem—so she’d searched for a project that would force her to think about something else.
“I’m going to build a waterfall,” she told the group.
“A waterfall,” Barb repeated. “Honey, you barely have a pot to pee in, and you give away half of what you do have. And you’re going to build a waterfall? Inside the house?”
“Now wait. Just wait. It’s not as impossible as it sounds. I saw it in a magazine…” And then she mentally pictured it. The south corner of this room really had nothing in it, so there’s where she wanted it—a sensual, warm, indoor waterfall at shower height, leading to a small pool surrounded by tropical plants. “If I used tile inside, stone outside, it would look almost like the real thing. And I could use it with the babies, either by sitting in there by myself, or just have the parent sit with their little one. It wouldn’t be too different from a hot tub, just more…sensual. And natural. And restful.”
Gary and Fred took one look at the bags of cement and piles of stones and started guffawing.
“Hey. It can’t be that hard to find a mason who can show me how to mortar in the stones. And I figured the pipes for the sink are already here, so there has to be some way to tap into them for the water source. I mean, I know it’ll take some work—”
“Some work?” Gary hooted. “You’re going to need a crew of fifty to pull this off!”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“So, it’ll take a lot of work. But I really think it’s a practical idea—” Since that sent Gary and Barb into new gales of laughter, she appealed to Fred. “Don’t you think it’d be beautiful?”
“I think you’re the prettiest thing this neighborhood has seen in decades, sugar. And if you want to build yourself a waterfall, then that’s what you should do.”
But then he caught Gary’s eye, and the two of them started cackling all over again.
At that precise moment she spotted the man in the doorway—notany man, but Fergus. Her Fergus Lockwood. He had his arm raised in a fist, as if he’d been knocking and was going to try yet again to gain someone’s attention.
The pups spotted him first and beelined straight for the newcomer. Her neighbors all spun around and gaped, then gaped back at Phoebe, then offered hellos and we’re just Phoebe’s neighbors and everybody was just leaving—although no one left.
Phoebe dropped her bowl of grapefruit. The bowl cracked. The grapefruit skittered across the tile floor, leaving seeds and grapefruit juice in its wake. Obviously the world as she knew it hadn’t suddenly ended, yet, for just a few seconds she couldn’t seem to move. Her heart went woosh, the way it had a nasty tendency to do around Fox the other two times she’d been near him—only it was worse this time.
It was all his
In the back of the house, where Barb hustled the breakfasters, was her business. Customers—usually moms—entered from the back door.
A bathroom and curtained-off changing area took up the north wall; the massage center dominated the room’s center. The counters, sink, stand-alone tub and massage tables were all white—not shiny, in-your-face white, but an ultrasoft clean white.
All, that is, except for one corner, where dusty bags of cement, heaped stacks of stones and long boxes of plumbing parts looked as out of place as mud in a hospital. Further, the sledgehammer in front of it at all was almost bigger than she was. She may have overbought there, just a tad.
“What in God’s name have you gotten yourself into, girl?” Gary questioned, hands on hips.
Phoebe was still carrying her bowl of grapefruit. It was impossible to explain that once she’d cleaned the place stem to stern—even the windows—she still couldn’t get her mind off the damn man. He was hurting, she just knew it. Not letting anyone help him, she knew that, too. But it wasn’t her problem—and wasn’t going to be her problem—so she’d searched for a project that would force her to think about something else.
“I’m going to build a waterfall,” she told the group.
“A waterfall,” Barb repeated. “Honey, you barely have a pot to pee in, and you give away half of what you do have. And you’re going to build a waterfall? Inside the house?”
“Now wait. Just wait. It’s not as impossible as it sounds. I saw it in a magazine…” And then she mentally pictured it. The south corner of this room really had nothing in it, so there’s where she wanted it—a sensual, warm, indoor waterfall at shower height, leading to a small pool surrounded by tropical plants. “If I used tile inside, stone outside, it would look almost like the real thing. And I could use it with the babies, either by sitting in there by myself, or just have the parent sit with their little one. It wouldn’t be too different from a hot tub, just more…sensual. And natural. And restful.”
Gary and Fred took one look at the bags of cement and piles of stones and started guffawing.
“Hey. It can’t be that hard to find a mason who can show me how to mortar in the stones. And I figured the pipes for the sink are already here, so there has to be some way to tap into them for the water source. I mean, I know it’ll take some work—”
“Some work?” Gary hooted. “You’re going to need a crew of fifty to pull this off!”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“So, it’ll take a lot of work. But I really think it’s a practical idea—” Since that sent Gary and Barb into new gales of laughter, she appealed to Fred. “Don’t you think it’d be beautiful?”
“I think you’re the prettiest thing this neighborhood has seen in decades, sugar. And if you want to build yourself a waterfall, then that’s what you should do.”
But then he caught Gary’s eye, and the two of them started cackling all over again.
At that precise moment she spotted the man in the doorway—notany man, but Fergus. Her Fergus Lockwood. He had his arm raised in a fist, as if he’d been knocking and was going to try yet again to gain someone’s attention.
The pups spotted him first and beelined straight for the newcomer. Her neighbors all spun around and gaped, then gaped back at Phoebe, then offered hellos and we’re just Phoebe’s neighbors and everybody was just leaving—although no one left.
Phoebe dropped her bowl of grapefruit. The bowl cracked. The grapefruit skittered across the tile floor, leaving seeds and grapefruit juice in its wake. Obviously the world as she knew it hadn’t suddenly ended, yet, for just a few seconds she couldn’t seem to move. Her heart went woosh, the way it had a nasty tendency to do around Fox the other two times she’d been near him—only it was worse this time.
It was all his
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