kitchen and bathrooms are clean, bedrooms look fine.”
Steve kicked a few old newspapers. “I guess the trash just needs to be taken out.”
With a critical eye, Kelly gave the place a thorough examination. The living room and dining room wrapped around a small, yet adequate kitchen with more cabinets than Kelly could fill. High ceilings, with exposed redwood beams, balanced the sunlight pouring into the house through several full length windows and one narrow window over the kitchen sink. Kelly found the house bright and cheerful, a pleasant change compared to San Francisco’s constant fog and gray skies.
Built in the late 1950’s, the house had two bathrooms, both tiled in mauve and mossy green, outdated but quaint. Green border tiles with terra cotta sea horses further embellished the master bath.
“Oh, I love these tiles, Steve.” Kelly dragged her fingers across the wall. “Look. They’re little seahorses! Aren’t they darling?” she gushed with delight.
Steve chuckled. “Yeah. They’ve been darling for the better part of the past fifty years. I’m afraid seahorses and seashells are more common on bathroom walls than in tide pools—a Florida cliché. But I think it’s cute that you like them.”
She gave him a playful swat and moved on, completing her inspection of the house, before moving outside into the backyard. A small, screened porch took up part of the lawn.
“Steve,” she sighed. “There’s an old oak—a climbing tree for Lacy. We never had a yard. She’s spent her entire life in an apartment.”
A tire swing, hanging from one limb, was the icing on the cake. The house just kept getting better.
Steve added, “Basic, functional and 50’s old Florida.”
“It couldn’t be more perfect.” Kelly spun in circles, taking it all in. The house was everything Kelly wanted right now. And, the ocean was an incredible short block and a half away. “I’ll take it! Thanks, Steve. This is awesome!”
They drove back to the real estate office, contacted the owner, and Kelly wrote a check for the deposit. Signing the lease, she experienced a curious, yet delicious feeling. At last, she was home.
On the way back to The Glades, they stopped by an exterminator. It was Sunday so it was closed, but they got the phone number off the door. Kelly would make arrangements to have the house de-bugged before she and Lacy moved in. Thirty minutes later, the tires skidded across the gravel, grating to a stop in front of her beach bungalow. Steve let the motor idle.
An awkward silence passed before Kelly said, “Want to come in for a cup of coffee or maybe a beer?” He’d helped her solve one of her major problems, finding a home, and she thought it rude to send him off without at least a cup of coffee.
“I’d like to, but I promised my neighbor, Gary, I’d go fishing with him this afternoon.” He twisted his wrist to view the face of his diver’s watch. “He’ll get antsy if I’m more than fifteen minutes late.”
Kelly’s mood soured. Heaven forbid good old Gary should get antsy. “Come on in. I owe you. You’ve earned a beer. I’m sure Gary will understand.”
Steve hesitated then glanced again at his watch.
Kelly shifted on the seat. Never mind. She shouldn’t encourage him anyway. Her heart would be safer without pushing a relationship with this man. She recalled her reaction on the bridge when she’d jumped the concrete partition and ended up entangled in his arms. Dangerous emotions had reawakened inside her. The warning flags were there—football and Gary Benson.
She snatched her purse from the back seat and got out. “Maybe another time.”
Steve stiffened. “Sure. I mean I hope so. When are you leaving for California?”
“Friday night.”
“Too bad.” He looked genuinely disappointed. “I’ve got to be in Houston tomorrow. I’ll be at NASA all week.” He paused then added, “Well…you’ve got my number. Give me a call when you get back into town, and
Steve kicked a few old newspapers. “I guess the trash just needs to be taken out.”
With a critical eye, Kelly gave the place a thorough examination. The living room and dining room wrapped around a small, yet adequate kitchen with more cabinets than Kelly could fill. High ceilings, with exposed redwood beams, balanced the sunlight pouring into the house through several full length windows and one narrow window over the kitchen sink. Kelly found the house bright and cheerful, a pleasant change compared to San Francisco’s constant fog and gray skies.
Built in the late 1950’s, the house had two bathrooms, both tiled in mauve and mossy green, outdated but quaint. Green border tiles with terra cotta sea horses further embellished the master bath.
“Oh, I love these tiles, Steve.” Kelly dragged her fingers across the wall. “Look. They’re little seahorses! Aren’t they darling?” she gushed with delight.
Steve chuckled. “Yeah. They’ve been darling for the better part of the past fifty years. I’m afraid seahorses and seashells are more common on bathroom walls than in tide pools—a Florida cliché. But I think it’s cute that you like them.”
She gave him a playful swat and moved on, completing her inspection of the house, before moving outside into the backyard. A small, screened porch took up part of the lawn.
“Steve,” she sighed. “There’s an old oak—a climbing tree for Lacy. We never had a yard. She’s spent her entire life in an apartment.”
A tire swing, hanging from one limb, was the icing on the cake. The house just kept getting better.
Steve added, “Basic, functional and 50’s old Florida.”
“It couldn’t be more perfect.” Kelly spun in circles, taking it all in. The house was everything Kelly wanted right now. And, the ocean was an incredible short block and a half away. “I’ll take it! Thanks, Steve. This is awesome!”
They drove back to the real estate office, contacted the owner, and Kelly wrote a check for the deposit. Signing the lease, she experienced a curious, yet delicious feeling. At last, she was home.
On the way back to The Glades, they stopped by an exterminator. It was Sunday so it was closed, but they got the phone number off the door. Kelly would make arrangements to have the house de-bugged before she and Lacy moved in. Thirty minutes later, the tires skidded across the gravel, grating to a stop in front of her beach bungalow. Steve let the motor idle.
An awkward silence passed before Kelly said, “Want to come in for a cup of coffee or maybe a beer?” He’d helped her solve one of her major problems, finding a home, and she thought it rude to send him off without at least a cup of coffee.
“I’d like to, but I promised my neighbor, Gary, I’d go fishing with him this afternoon.” He twisted his wrist to view the face of his diver’s watch. “He’ll get antsy if I’m more than fifteen minutes late.”
Kelly’s mood soured. Heaven forbid good old Gary should get antsy. “Come on in. I owe you. You’ve earned a beer. I’m sure Gary will understand.”
Steve hesitated then glanced again at his watch.
Kelly shifted on the seat. Never mind. She shouldn’t encourage him anyway. Her heart would be safer without pushing a relationship with this man. She recalled her reaction on the bridge when she’d jumped the concrete partition and ended up entangled in his arms. Dangerous emotions had reawakened inside her. The warning flags were there—football and Gary Benson.
She snatched her purse from the back seat and got out. “Maybe another time.”
Steve stiffened. “Sure. I mean I hope so. When are you leaving for California?”
“Friday night.”
“Too bad.” He looked genuinely disappointed. “I’ve got to be in Houston tomorrow. I’ll be at NASA all week.” He paused then added, “Well…you’ve got my number. Give me a call when you get back into town, and
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