Rooms: A Novel by James L. Rubart Page B

future.”
    “Can’t we order first?” Micah studied the restaurant’s specials.
    “No.” She waited till he looked up. “I asked for an answer in four weeks. It’s been six. That place has you hook, line, and heart.”
    “So does Seattle.”
    “Seattle includes me. Cannon Beach doesn’t.”
    “It could.” Micah slid his finger down the side of his water glass, then wiped the moisture on the tablecloth.
    “Do you love me, Micah?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you want to marry me?”
    Micah sucked in a deep breath and held it. Five seconds passed. He knew it was far too long. That question required an instantaneous answer. “Yes.”
    Julie folded her russet cloth napkin into a neat triangle, set it on her plate, and pressed down the crease with two fingers. Then she stood.
    “What are you doing?”
    “You can’t have both.”
    “Both what?” he said.
    “Don’t play dumb.”
    “It’s just a beach place.” Micah motioned for her to sit back down. “I won’t be spending a bunch of time there much longer. Things will get back to normal. I’m going to sell the place like we talked about. Seattle’s where I belong.”
    “You’re obsessed with the place. You said you couldn’t stand Cannon Beach even though you won’t tell me why, but you keep going down there. It makes no sense.” She put on her coat and buttoned it all the way to the top. “I need you to decide. Very soon.”
    A rush of heat filled his face as Julie strode away from the table. Micah wasn’t sure if it was from the stares of the people sitting around him or the lie he’d just told her about wanting to get married.
    After insisting on giving Palisades money for occupying a table for ten minutes, he got in his car and stared out the window seeing nothing.
    Maybe he’d head for the beach a day early.
    It was becoming his sanctuary.
    As long as he could continue to keep his childhood memories at bay.
    And if no new room popped into existence to scramble his brain.

CHAPTER 8
    Julie was right. He had to decide if his future had her in it. Soon. For both of them.
    Saturday morning Micah sat in his overstuffed leather chair and watched the Pacific’s horizon through a pair of Steiner binoculars, wishing the choice were simple.
    Part of him wanted to be with her forever, but if the proverbial gun was pressed to his temple, he would probably decide on a life without her.
    What a mess.
    No question. The house was monkey wrench central. It would be a lot less complicated to dump the thing, marry Julie, and get on with RimSoft’s conquest of the world.
    Leave this place? It was the logical choice. But the right choice? No clue. It felt like he was playing tug-of-war—RimSoft, Seattle, and Julie on one end; the house, Cannon Beach, and Rick on the other. He was the rope.
    A cool May wind swept through the open doors that led to his deck, dousing him in the chilled outside air. He grabbed his empty Tigger coffee cup and shuffled toward the kitchen. As he looked up, his fingers went limp and the mug slipped out of his hand and made a thunking sound onto the carpet. His knees weakened, and he almost joined Tigger on the floor. At the back of the kitchen was a doorway and beyond it a hall.
    A hallway that had not been there before.
    Micah staggered through the kitchen, through the doorway. At the end of the hall was a door. Not again.
    Breathe.
    He leaned into the wall as his legs bounced like jackhammers. Sliding down the wall to the floor, he squeezed his head with both hands.
    Think!
    Maybe it had been there. He thought back to his last visit. Was it there? No. Not a chance. He’d either lost his mind or someone had added a sizable addition to his house in four days.
    He fought down the impulse to run. He knew he wasn’t going crazy, knew the hallway wasn’t there before, and knew this addition couldn’t have been completed during the week he’d been in Seattle. But there was no fourth answer to defer to. He rubbed his face with both hands,