Their Forever Home

by Syndi Powell

  She paused in her eating and considered his words. “It’s not that I don’t like the idea, but I’m not confident it’s one that can win us the contest. Everything we do has to be top-notch. No room for error.”

  “It will be. You’ll see.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a gamble we should take.”

  “So we play it safe and make our house look like what everyone else is doing?” He shook his head and played with his fork. “That won’t win us any points, either.”

  “Maybe.”

  He grinned and put another piece of pie on her plate. “Admit it. I’m right.”

  She held up her hand. “Enough pie. I want to see what you came up with.”

  He gave her the plate and ushered her into the living room where she sat on the sofa and continued eating. He stood next to the layout for the kitchen. “Two things about houses usually win people over—kitchens and bathrooms. I figured we’d focus most of our attention and wow factor on these two rooms.”

  “The judges are going to be looking at the whole house.”

  “I understand, but this would give us a chance for more impact. With the entire kitchen being gutted before we took possession, we got a blank slate. I’d like to open the wall adjoining the living room.”

  “Bad news. That’s a support wall.”

  “Yes, but we can put in a window that would give us sight lines into the living room and make it look more spacious. That also leaves us places for cabinets for storage.” He pointed to the wood chip he’d picked up from the home improvement store. “Lighter colors will make things look more open as well. But not white, which shows dirt and grime, especially if a young family is chosen for us.”

  “And the yellow paint chip there?”

  “It will make things look warm and inviting, taking advantage of the light coming from all the windows facing the backyard. And we’ll pair that yellow with some blues and greens to keep it from being too harsh.” He pointed to the floor plan. “We’ll keep the sink where the original was, but use that salvaged deep sink that is narrower to maximize counter space. Dishwasher adjacent.”

  She stood and approached the design. “The placement of the stove and refrigerator won’t work like this. You want them to be set up in a triangle with the sink.” She found a pencil and marred his layout by changing the location of the stove. “You’ve got it way over here, but if we move it here. Or even better...” She drew a rectangle in the middle of the kitchen. “On an island and move the refrigerator on this wall.” She connected the sink, refrigerator and stove with lines. “See? A triangle.”

  He took the pencil from her. “And if we add this island with the stove, we can add more storage and a pot holder above.” He sketched his idea, then stood back and nodded. “I see what you’re saying.”

  “The kitchen and dining room is the biggest area of our house, so we can add an island without sacrificing much space. And like you said, we gain some storage.”

  “And we can get a built-in microwave and add it here to free up some counter space, as well.” He drew in his idea.

  Cassie took the pencil from him and added a seating area on the end of the island. “For more casual dining. And I’ll add a lazy Susan in the cabinet here so it’s easier access since we don’t have the room to add a pantry.”

  “I like it.”

  “So do I.” She looked up at him. “What else do you have for me?”

  * * *

  FOR THE NEXT HOUR, they went over each of the designs and made changes and improvements. Cassie enjoyed the back-and-forth they had established. John was willing to listen to her about the practicality of a design based on her experience, and she could concede some design ideas because of his vision for the house. He’d even been able to incorporate the high-tech gadgets into the design for maximum impact.

  The only thing he wouldn’t give up was his idea of using salvaged materials, and she still wasn’t sold on it. Even when he showed her how he’d use one of the doors they’d removed earlier that week to create a headboard for the bed in the master bedroom. She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know. Besides the fact that it’s a door, you’re talking about drilling it to the wall. What if the new owner doesn’t like it where you’ve put it?”

  “Trust me.”

  She eyed him, remembering their conversation the other day. Still, he had some good ideas. “We’re more than a month away from being at that point, so we can revisit it then.”

  “I know what I’m talking about.”

  “I don’t doubt that, but we want to make things look beautiful and be practical. When you’re talking about small spaces, you need more flexibility.”

  He furrowed his brow as he turned back to the design. “I’ll see what I can do. Make things more movable. But I’m using the door.”

  Cassie yawned and took a seat on the sofa. “I think you’re going in the right direction, so we’ll start bright and early on Monday morning. I’ll be working on the initial plumbing while the brothers check the electrical wiring.”

  “And me?”

  She hesitated. “Based on your drawings, you have items you need to build. Whether you do that at the house or somewhere else is up to you.”

  “You don’t want me there.”

  She didn’t want him in the way, but she couldn’t just blurt that out. “You did say that you had wired your own sound system, so you can focus on the gadgets. Speaking of, do you have other ideas in your own place?”

  “Are you asking for a tour?”

  She stood and nodded. “I need to get an idea of your aesthetic.”

  “I’m making it up as I go, Cassie. This is new for me.”

  “But you’ve decorated your own home. Show me that, and I can get a sense of your personal style. Your likes and dislikes.”

  He didn’t seem convinced but led her down the hall nonetheless. She’d expected a guy’s bathroom: basic and functional. Instead, he had painted the walls a soft gray and paired it with navy blue towels and a fluffy white bath rug. His accessories were plated nickel. The effect gave the entire room a cool, calm feeling. “I like this.”

  He ushered her to what was his office. A large drawing easel took up most of the room, and he’d left the walls painted white. However, the effect wasn’t stark since he had placed colorful drawings around the room. Some of them were cars, which she had expected, but others surprised her. She walked to a painting of a woman holding a mug and staring out a window. Feeling the woman’s loneliness, she touched one of the brushstrokes. “This is amazing. Who’s the artist?”

  “John Robison.”

  “I didn’t realize that you painted like this.”

  “It’s just one painting, Cass.”

  She motioned with her hand to the room. “This is all you, right?” She took a step closer to the painting of the woman. “Who was she?”

  “No one.” John tucked his hands into this pockets and looked away.

  “I’m guessing an ex-girlfriend, then.”

  John shook his head. “No. Are we done with the tour?”

  She moved past him out of the room and started toward the closed door at the end of the hallway. He stepped in front of her. “Tour’s over, Cassie.”

  “I haven’t seen your bedroom yet. What’s the big deal? You hiding a dead body in there?”

  “No one goes into my bedroom without an invitation. And I didn’t invite you in.”

  “I’m not asking to move in. Just to get a peek.”

  “This is my private space. My personal sanctuary.” He positioned himself so that she couldn’t get her hand on the doorknob.

  She feinted to the right, but he seemed to expect her attempt to fake him out and brought her up against him. She looked up at him and found herself eye level with his mouth. He had nice lips, full and inviting. She tipped her head up to see him smirking at h
er, which only irritated her.

  So she kissed him.

  He responded, but only for seconds before he stepped back. Using his shock to her advantage, she squeezed under his arms to open the door. But once the doorknob turned and the door cracked open, she knew she’d done the wrong thing. Without saying a word, he pointed at her to return to the living room, where she slumped on the sofa.

  “Sorry.”

  His lips were pursed angrily. “There are lines you can’t cross if we’re going to make this partnership work, Cassie.”

  “I only wanted to see your bedroom.” Man, she sounded pathetic and whiny. She felt like she was four years old and being called on the carpet for her misdeeds. She hung her head. “Sorry.”

  “You said we have to build trust between us. And I agree. But you’re playing games with me, and I don’t like it.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” She stood and pulled her keys out of her jeans pocket. “I’ll say good-night now.”

  Before she reached the door, John called out her name. “Wait.” He joined her. “I’ll walk you to your truck.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’d feel better knowing you got to your car safely.”

  He opened the door to let her walk out first. He pulled a set of keys from a copper bowl on a table by the entry and followed her downstairs. They were silent as they walked to her truck. She kept her eyes straight ahead, except for when she snuck a glance at him and noticed the splotches of red on his neck and cheeks.

  “I am sorry, John. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

  He gave a short nod, then tapped the roof of her vehicle before turning and walking back to his building. She slipped into her truck and watched his retreat in the rearview mirror. “You messed up, Cass. Big time,” she told herself.

  It wasn’t just the kiss, and she knew it. She had tried to enter where she wasn’t wanted, forced herself into his personal space. How many times had that happened to her? Swallowing her regret, she put the truck into gear and drove home.

  * * *

  EVEN WITH A long list of things to do, they had decided to wait until Tuesday, after the Memorial Day long weekend, to start fixing up the house. But that didn’t mean John couldn’t stop by and walk through to make more notes. He wanted to get a feel of the place without the entire team there and figured that this might be his last chance for solitude.

  He stared at the brick exterior, thinking about what he knew. Loretta had mentioned that the Czarnecks had once lived here. What had happened to them? Did they have happy memories here? Bittersweet? Had there been more laughter or tears inside its walls? He hoped it was the former. People didn’t laugh enough these days.

  The door creaked as he opened it and stepped inside the house. It still smelled dusty from all the plaster they had removed, as well as the sawdust from cutting out rotten floorboards. Skirting the hole in the living room, he walked into the kitchen and put a hand on the doorjamb. Had the kids lined up to have their heights measured with pencil marks? Were gourmet masterpieces created in this kitchen or were meals a hodgepodge of this and that?

  The unknown history of the home seemed to distract him from what he’d been pondering since Saturday night. Why had he enjoyed Cassie kissing him? Even after he realized she’d used the kiss to get past him into his bedroom, he still wanted to keep kissing her. It had been a shock when her lips had touched his, but it had been welcome all the same. His anger had been at her betrayal of his trust rather than the kiss. He hadn’t been able to talk much as he ushered her out to her truck. Could barely keep his emotions in check.

  He shook his head. The worst thing would be to get involved with her while they renovated the house. He wanted... No, he needed to keep their relationship on a professional level. He couldn’t let his own desires for her distract him from his job. He had to lock up his heart for the next few months while they worked. Keep his eyes focused on the design, not how cute she was when she got excited about their project. The way her bourbon-colored eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled. Her eager enthusiasm made him only want her more.

  Stop. Thinking. About. Her.

  He glanced around the empty space and decided he needed to do something to bring his focus back. He knew his designs lacked that something special, even after Cassie had drawn her own ideas on them. Together, they had come up with some better strategies but he knew he was missing that one thing that would take them over the top. Maybe a walk would clear his head.

  Curiosity got the better of him and he strolled past the other contest homes. One of the teams had decided to work on the holiday if the sounds of hammers and saws were any indication. He wondered how they were handling the design concept, but he didn’t need the ideas of others to cloud his focus. He had enough confidence in his own skills to not have to take from anyone else.

  As he got closer to the busy street, the smells of charcoal and grilled meat filled the air. He sniffed appreciatively. He’d declined his mother’s invitation to accompany her to her family reunion in Missouri because of the contest deadline. He needed to be thinking about the house, instead of chatting with cousins he hadn’t seen in years. He’d also turned down his friend Brett’s invite to join him and his family at their cottage up north. This left him alone for the holiday.

  He crossed the street and saw Loretta rocking on her porch. She shaded her eyes and called out to him, “John, you working today?”

  “No, ma’am. I wanted to go look at the house to get some inspiration before we start work tomorrow.”

  She nodded as she fanned herself. “I found some pictures that I thought you might like.” She grunted as she stood. “Now where did I leave them?” She turned back to look at him. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come in and help me find them.”

  He couldn’t help but notice the bustle of activity inside the house, especially the kitchen. A woman smiled at him after Loretta introduced him. “You were right, Mama. John stopped by.”

  “I told you he would.”

  “I’m her daughter, Shekinah. Mama hasn’t stopped talking about you. You staying for barbecue?”

  “No, I couldn’t.”

  Loretta looked at him knowingly. “You have other plans?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Then you’re staying.” She said it as if there was no doubt. “Now, where did I put those pictures for John?”

  “On the front table by your chair so you wouldn’t forget.” Her daughter reminded her. “Can I get you something to drink, John? Water? Pop? Iced tea?”

  “Thank you. Tea sounds great.”

  Loretta shook her head. “Don’t grow old. You lose your memory. Your body.” She sighed and walked back to the living room where she found the pictures stacked on a side table. “The Czarnecks were known for their elaborate Christmas parties. I thought you might like to see how the house used to be.”

  He took the glossy pictures and started to flip through them. “These are fantastic. Thank you.” He peered at one photo of the kitchen. Six adults sat at a table by the bay window. “They used the window seat for a table. That was my plan, too.”

  “The adults used to crowd in there and play cards while the kids ran about and had their own games.” She smiled, remembering. “And Layla could cook like a dream. She was known for her chicken-and-rice casserole.” Loretta smacked her lips. “Those were the days we didn’t worry about too much butter or cheese.”

  John looked at the pictures. There was one of the living room with a tall Christmas tree at the large window. Four kids crowded on a sofa, holding gifts and smiling with quite a few missing teeth among them. Another of a woman being kissed on the cheek by a man hiding a bouquet of flowers behind his back. John held the picture up to Loretta. “Were they the Czarnecks?”

  Loretta took the photo from him and peered at it. �
��Yes, that’s Layla and Tom. My, he loved that woman. Thought she could do no wrong.”

  “What happened to them?”

  She thrust the picture at him. “Their oldest boy got killed in a car accident. Only sixteen. It affected Layla so. She let her grief eat her up until Tom moved the family down South somewhere. He thought that a move might bring her out of her depression.”

  “Did it?”

  “Seemed to. We exchanged Christmas cards for a while, but eventually that stopped.” Loretta sighed. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember the neighborhood we once had. Block parties with enough food to feed a couple neighborhoods. The kids would play tag and ride their bikes until they had to come inside for bed. And there was a community garden.” She sat forward and stared at him. “Did I tell you about the garden?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She leaned back in her recliner. “It was hard trying to raise a family on one income in those days, so someone got this idea that we should grow some of our own food. We each had our own small gardens, but we needed additional space to expand. There was an empty lot, so we tilled it and planted a bunch of vegetables. Ears of corn by the bushel. The best tomatoes I ever ate. And enough green beans that we canned for days and it fed us through the winter.”

  Shekinah handed John a glass of iced tea. “Is she telling you about the garden? I remember the strawberries we planted one year. I would pick a handful, wash ’em and eat ’em right away.”

  “I’d forgotten the strawberries.” Loretta smacked her lips. “We ate strawberry shortcake for dessert practically every night for a month. You know, I heard that community gardens are back in style these days. Wish we could start one again here.”

  “Where would we put it, Mama? There’s no empty lots on this street anymore.”

  “I know, I know. Just wishful thinking, I guess.” She looked out the window to the front yard. “And I don’t have the energy to plant my own.”