Welcome Home, Katie Gallagher

by Seana Kelly

  Katie stepped closer to the truck bed and ran her fingertips along a curved chair leg. “But it’s all so beautiful. How could someone not fall in love?”

  I watched her closely. “I don’t know.”

  She flung herself at me, squeezing tightly. “Thank you!”

  I let my eyes drift closed, absorbing the feel of her, the scent. When she let go, I hung on for one moment more. “So, I guess I’m unloading all of this?”

  She clapped, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Yes! Chop-chop.”

  “Okay, I’ll haul them to the porch. You decide where you want them inside. This stuff weighs a ton, so no changing your mind a million times.” I hopped up and handed a small end table to her. She carried it to the porch and came back for more.

  While she took chairs and mirrors, I hauled dressers and tables. The headboard and footboard were particularly heavy. I was not looking forward to dragging those upstairs. I should have asked Bear to help, but as I was trying to keep him far away from Katie, that seemed counterproductive.

  A little after seven, just as the final piece of furniture was put in place, I got a call about a theft. It was a family friend who had asked for me, so instead of staying, having dinner and finishing that bottle of wine, I was leaving. Damn.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Kate

  FURNITURE HELPS TAKE the sting out of joblessness. I was lying on my new dark walnut bed, wrapped in blankets. I glanced over. Chaucer was curled up on his blanket bed, head on his paws, watching me. “Good morning, sweet boy. We really have our own home now.” It hadn’t felt like it before, sleeping in the car, propped sideways in a chair. But now, lying comfortably in a bed, rested, the sky outside the windows bleeding orange in the coming sunrise, I had a deep and satisfying feeling of home.

  I was taking this room as my bedroom. I considered the smaller one across the hall, as it had always been the one I stayed in when I visited, but Gran’s had the attached bathroom and large windows looking out to Dorr Point, a view I would never tire of.

  Kicking off the blankets, I sat up. Chaucer rose as well, coming over for his morning scratch and hug. “It doesn’t feel like Gran’s room anymore. Everything’s different.” I studied the off-white walls and heart pine floors. “Let’s paint. Paint doesn’t cost too much. We’ll make this room—this house—all our own.” I stood. “But first, let’s go get breakfast.”

  Chaucer raced out of the room and down the stairs. I wasn’t going to fall back into the gloom. I didn’t have a job, but I did have a beautiful home, one I no longer shared with snickering marmosets. I had a bed to sleep in and a bureau to hold my clothes. I had tables to set things on and chairs to sit in. I had some money in the bank, even after I returned Mom’s loan.

  I did not know what the hell was going on with Aiden, grumpy and dismissive one minute, kissing me the next. Regardless, this wasn’t about him. It was about me, standing on my own, starting a new life.

  As for the matter of being unemployed, I liked cooking, so I’d try to find a job that allowed me to cook. If it took me a few months to find a job, I’d survive. Gran’s house was paid for, and I knew how to live lean.

  I fed Chaucer and then opened the back door for him. While he went potty, I poured myself a bowl of cereal. As I didn’t have a job, the day was my own. I grabbed a notepad and pen from Gran’s junk drawer and began to write my to-do list for the day.

  When Chaucer trotted back in, I closed the door before sitting back down. The nights and mornings up here were frigid. Chaucer sat by my side, resting his head on my lap. “So, here’s what I’m thinking. I need bedding and a phone. I’d like a bathroom rug. Those tiles are flipping freezing. I also need Wi-Fi.” I thought about the long, quiet nights. “Maybe a TV?” I scratched behind his ears. “Too extravagant? Maybe I should hit a used bookstore instead.”

  * * *

  IT HAD BEEN a good day. I had accomplished a great deal, and I’d done it on my own. I’m sure the distracted teenage boy working in the phone store thought I was being indecisive, staring at the phones, hearing about all the options. The reality was that it had all become white noise, a kind of buzzing that vibrated through my brain. It was an old fear response to doing something wrong.

  Strength isn’t always apparent, or even noticed. I stood in that store, staring at the phones on the counter, and with Herculean effort I pushed the old self-doubt out of my head. Strangely, it was Aiden’s shout of “insane!” that helped me shake off the specter of my ex’s ever-present criticisms. I took a deep, clean breath and made a decision for myself. It was the first of many.

  I stopped by Mo’s boutique, mostly to say hello but also to look for jeans. In cleaning every inch of Gran’s house, I’d found a couple of plastic totes in the back of the guest-room closet. They contained winter boots and sweaters, so now I really only needed some casual pants.

  The bell above the door chimed, and Mo walked out of the back room. “Katie, you’re back.” She gave me a quick hug. “How’s the hot dog life treating you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Not well. I was fired.”

  “Fired? Why would Chuck do that?” Mo looked outraged on my behalf. “People have been telling me what a great job you’re doing.”

  It was surprising how much better that bit of praise made me feel. “Well, yesterday I needed a moment. I was a little emotional. So I closed the customer panel during lunchtime hours, just for a few minutes, but Chuck was upset. Aiden tried to defend me, but only made it worse. So, long story short, I’m out of a job.”

  Confusion colored Mo’s expression. “Wait. What was Aiden doing there?”

  What to say, what to say? “He brought your grandfather by so he could apologize.”

  Hands on hips, she pinned me with a glare. “What did Pops do that required an apology? An apology that made you upset enough to close the panel and then get fired!”

  Now I wished I’d just waved and walked by. “It was nothing. I’ll find another job.”

  “In the Harbor? At this time of year? No. You won’t.” She started pacing, her eyes sparking. “I’m hearing all manner of gossip about those two and you. Aiden tried to arrest you?”

  “What? Pfft, no way.” I moved toward the door.

  “He pounded on the food truck and threatened to write a health-code violation against you on your first day? He confiscated your dog? Forced you to give him free food?”

  Where the hell was she getting her information? Was there a nanny cam in the truck?

  “I hear your house was overrun with animals, absolutely unlivable, and did either of them offer you a room? No. Those bastards let you sleep in your car! Your husband cut off your bank accounts, and you’ve been living on peanut butter. Did they help? No!”

  Holding up a hand, I tried to stem the stream of accusations. “Actually, Aiden brought me groceries a week ago.” I nodded. “It was very kind of him.”

  “Kind? He’s had a thing for you since he was a little kid. Yet he let you starve and sleep in a car for weeks before he finally did the easiest decent thing he could think of.”

  Leaning forward, I whispered, “Seriously, how do you know all of this?”

  She strode to the window. “Katie,” she said, voice resigned. “It’s a small town. We all know each other’s business. People heard you in the park, saw the blankets in your car, talked to the exterminator, chatted with the appraiser, were standing in line behind you in the store. Bits and pieces were pasted together until a picture emerged. Unfortunately, it’s a picture that highlights the fact that my family is filled with heartless bastards.”

  “I wouldn’t say filled. You’ve been great. You gave me some great deals.” I smiled broadly to her back, hoping she’d turn, but she didn’t.

  “I sold you clothes from my shop at the marked price. I wasn’t exactly doing charity work
.”

  “Not true. You found me great clothes that I desperately needed at a price I could pay. And your grandfather just gave me a bunch of his old furniture.”

  Mo turned at that. “He did?”

  Smiling, I continued, “He and Aiden went through the attic and basement, pulling pieces, cleaning and hauling them over. I slept in a bed last night! I cannot express strongly enough how wonderful that was.”

  She gave in to a reluctant grin. “Really? They did that?”

  I nodded.

  Closing her eyes, she hugged herself. “They’ve both been so bitter. Alice. Then your grandmother dying. Both of them haven’t been themselves for too long.” She studied me. “They brought you food and furniture? Argued with Chuck about firing you?” At my nod, she grinned and threw an arm around me. “Excellent! Now, what did you come in here for?”

  * * *

  RUSSET LEAVES SWIRLED in the wake of the cars driving up Main toward the old farm road that led to Gran’s. I had the back windows open so Chaucer could hang out, enjoying the wind and scents bombarding him.

  When we pulled up to the house, I couldn’t help but think home. This was my home. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get these bags inside.” I opened the back door for Chaucer who jumped down and immediately began patrolling the area. Interesting. He’d never done that before. He’d sniffed. He’d meandered. He’d definitely sauntered, but he’d never patrolled. Newfoundlands were water-rescue dogs, not shepherds or guard dogs. Perhaps this was feeling like home to him as well, one that needed to be protected by the man of the house.

  In addition to the television I’d purchased after leaving Mo’s boutique, I’d also picked up some new bedding. I wanted to make Gran’s house my own, starting with the bedroom.

  The sheets I chose were a rich, buttery cream color. The warm down comforter was a vibrant teal, Van Gogh’s flowering almond tree painted across the silk, delicate but brimming with life. Justin preferred subtle earth tones, nothing too bright or garish. I was desperate for color.

  After the linens store, I stopped at the hardware store for paint and painting supplies. They even had a small coffeemaker on sale, so I bought that, too.

  I considered the deep violet spot on the top of the paint can. It was a bold choice but a joyous one. How long did it take to paint a room? I wanted to sleep in my new bedding in a violet room tonight.

  I brought in everything, weighed down, trudging up the stairs. It felt good. I was taking steps, making decisions. Chaucer got sick of following me up and down the stairs, though, choosing to flop onto his bed and watch the action instead.

  Once all my purchases were inside, I made a quick call to the cable company to set up an appointment for service and then dragged furniture into the center of the bedroom so I could prepare to paint.

  In addition to the deep violet, I’d also chosen a soft eggshell white for the baseboards and trim. The woman at the hardware store explained what to do. First up was taping off. After about forty-five minutes of climbing up and down a chair, taping off the ceiling and trim, my arms were sore, and I was seriously rethinking doing this on my own. But I took another look at the paint sample and decided I just needed a late lunch break before I began painting. I checked my watch, correcting that to an early dinner break.

  “Come on, sweets. Let’s get some grub.” Chaucer was up like a shot and down the stairs before I had a chance to jump from the chair. Didn’t have to ask him twice.

  I’d just sat down to a leftover rice dish, when Chaucer stood alert and woofed toward the front of the house. A minute later a knock sounded. Chaucer and I padded through the house. I opened the door expecting Aiden or maybe Mr. Cavanaugh, but was instead confronted by a man in a cable uniform. His face had the slightly bloated look of a long-time alcoholic. Bruise-colored skin circled his eyes.

  I took an involuntary step back. There was no logical reason for my sudden fear, but it was there and Chaucer sensed it, pushing into the doorway in front of me. It was the man’s turn to take a step back, his eyes wary as they took in the sheer size and strength of my dog.

  He smiled, and that was somehow worse.

  “Ma’am.” He pointed to the patch on his shirt identifying him as Joe and an employee of Comcast. “I’m from the cable company. You called for a hookup?” His eyes dragged over me.

  “Yes. I did. They said someone would be out in a couple of days.” I was more than willing to wait a few days for a different installer.

  “That’s right, but I was working nearby and had a cancellation, so they sent me over.” There was a challenge in his eyes, one that said he was aware of how uncomfortable he made me.

  I was sick of being afraid. I could take care of myself, and I had a big protective dog to help. “All right. Come in. I’ll show you where I want the cable installed.” I stepped back to let him through. Chaucer was still tense, but I was doing my best to appear relaxed and in charge.

  Joe stepped in and looked around, his eyes scanning quickly. “Nice place,” he mumbled as he walked through the living room toward the back of the house.

  “We’re going upstairs. I want the TV in the bedroom. I’m actually painting up there today, but I’m sure we can work around each other.” Not to mention, I wasn’t planning on leaving him unattended in my home.

  I showed him the little flat screen I’d purchased earlier in the day, still in its box. I pointed to a long low bureau. “I’d like to set it up on top of that, so it’s visible from the bed.” I glanced over at the pile of drop cloths, paint trays, brushes, blue tape and rags that were currently burying my bed. “It’s in the center of the room so I can paint, but it’s normally against that wall.” I pointed. “And the bureau is against this opposite one. Can the cable be installed in here?”

  He looked around, and I shivered. Why hadn’t I just said I was busy and couldn’t do the installation now? I’d ignored the survival instinct telling me to slam and lock the front door. Or, perhaps I was being a narrow-minded, superficial bitch, equating a frightening visage with a black soul.

  He didn’t wait to see if I came to any conclusions about beauty image and preconceived notions of good and evil, instead hunkering down near the wall and the electrical outlet. “You’re going to need wireless cable. We don’t have a cable line to hook into way out here. I need to check to see if you can get a strong enough signal before I start.”

  I hadn’t considered that, big-city girl that I was. “My grandmother had a TV. Wouldn’t that mean that she had cable?”

  He just stared at me a minute, his expression clearly stating that I was too stupid to live. “No.” He turned back around to the device in his hand that had lights streaking up and down it. “It should work. The reception won’t be as good as if you had the signal coming through a cable into the box, but it’ll be a hell of a lot better than you’d get without it. And no drilled holes, which usually makes people happy.” He checked his clipboard. “You also want internet, right?”

  I nodded. “Yes, I do.” Somehow I had ended up on the other side of the room. I’d been backing away from him without even realizing it. This shit had to stop.

  “I’ll install the internet hub right here, as well. It’s a small house. You should get a signal on a laptop pretty easy, probably even out on the porch.”

  He turned back to continue working, and I decided that I’d been reading evil intent into sagging, sallow features.

  By the time I’d finished taping off the trim, he was done. He walked me through how everything worked, demonstrated the remote and gave me the instructions and passwords to get on the internet. He handed me the work order to sign.

  I quickly walked him downstairs, wanting to have a locked door between us. He stopped, his eyes raking over me again.

  I leaned forward and turned the knob, opening the door.

  He opened his mouth to say
something when we heard a voice call out from the back of the house.

  “Katie? You home?”

  Whatever Joe was going to say dried up as we heard the back door close. Joe’s mouth snapped shut and he took off, pointedly not rushing.

  Turning to meet Mr. Cavanaugh as he came out of the kitchen, I leaned against the closed door, trying to appear more comfortable and confident than I was.

  “Say, the furniture looks nice in here, doesn’t it?” He assessed the rooms, nodding, before approaching me cautiously. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have walked in like that. It was habit when Nellie was here. I’ll try to remember to knock first. In fact, you should keep the door locked, so even if I forget, I still can’t come in.” He smiled tentatively, waiting to see what kind of reception he’d receive.

  I stepped forward and gave him a big hug, which I think surprised him as much as it did me. I was so relieved to have Joe gone and this man in his place, not to mention grateful for my furnished home, that I threw myself at him. He gave me a tight squeeze and chuckled.

  “Well, now. This is a surprise. I can’t remember the last time I had a cute little redhead in my arms. I could get used to this. Forget what I said earlier. You leave that door unlocked for me.”

  There was something about being surrounded by a strong, protective male that helped me relax. I tucked my head under his chin, his strong arms encircling me. I allowed myself to sink into the hug.

  “Are you trembling?” He leaned his head back trying to get a better look at me.

  Muffled by his chest, I said, “Nope.” I’d never understood young women who married septuagenarians. I’d assumed it was for money but maybe not. Maybe it was for this—strength and warmth and concern.

  Another car pulled into the gravel drive, and I flinched. Mr. Cavanaugh rubbed his hands up and down my back. “It’s just Aiden.”

  I knew I’d have to step away in a second but not yet.

  The steps slowed on the porch. A strange stillness enveloped us all, two on this side of the door, one on the other. The beveled glass panels in the front door didn’t offer much privacy, but it wasn’t the hug that needed to be hidden. It was my need for it. I felt movement behind me, and the front door quietly opened.