It didn’t take long for Chance and I to get going to work the next morning—one benefit of living across the parking lot from the office. We’d stopped in at the diner for breakfast on our way over, and while I was in the habit of looking around for Miranda’s car in the lot every time I went to the diner, I already knew she wasn’t going to be in this morning. I smiled as I thought about the situation I’d been in when I’d thought to ask about schedules for the next day. Miranda had been beneath me on the couch, her shirt in a pile on the floor and her blond hair spilling all around us as I’d kissed her over and over again. I couldn’t believe she was mine to kiss, mine to touch. Mine.
“Better quit it or your face will freeze that way,” Chance said as we settled into a booth and thanked Maddie for the coffee. It seemed like every ounce of happiness I’d found since the night the fire turned had been suctioned directly from my brother’s soul. He frowned into his mug and I wished—not for the first time—that we were the kind of brothers who really talked.
“Can’t help it. I’m happy.”
He squinted up at me and then ducked his chin again, muttering, “You deserve it, bro. Waited long enough.”
I leaned back in the booth and let myself enjoy the way my excitement seemed to heighten every sound around us, amplify every color and sensation. “Thanks,” I said, wishing he seemed happier.
We ordered our breakfasts, which was really just an exercise since we rarely ordered anything different and Maddie could probably just bring us the usual and keep things simple. And then I decided to try to talk to my brother. He was clearly hurting, and though we’d never really had heartfelt chats, there was a first time for everything.
“You okay, Chance?”
He blew out a harsh breath that was halfway between a laugh and a grunt. “Yeah. Fine.”
I crossed my arms. “We could talk about it.”
He pressed his lips together and looked up at me, assessing. “Yeah? I don’t think I have a story you’ll want to hear. Especially not while you’re enjoying that post-coital glow you’ve got going on.”
“We didn’t—” I stopped. It wasn’t Chance’s business what Miranda and I had or hadn’t done. “Talk to me, Chance.”
He shook his head, and laughed bitterly. Then his voice dropped low and pain rolled out with his words, thick and raw. “Just feels like a lot of losing lately, you know? Like I’m maybe I’ll never get another win.”
I tried not to look incredulous. “Chance. Seriously? I think if there’s an illustrated dictionary around here anywhere I can prove you wrong. Next to the word ‘winner’ is a picture of you.”
“Yeah.” The word dismissed the conversation, and Chance chuckled bitterly. “Right.”
I needed to let him talk. I tried again. “Tell me.”
“You were there, Sam. Mom died.”
“That was a long time ago.” Chance had been sixteen when Mom died, in his sophomore year at high school.
“Yeah. It was. But Mom died, and then Dad…”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “It sucks.” It did. Not having our parents to witness our adult lives felt unfair and cruel, but I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about it now and it surprised me to hear Chance did.
“But there’s been more than that,” he said. “I haven’t told you.”
I waited, worry pulling itself into a twisty ball inside my chest. What didn’t I know? What could be so bad it would make my all-American brother crumble like this? “What?”
“Rebecca.” He said the name quietly, reverently. “A month before Dad.” It was a whisper.
“Rebecca?”
“My fiancée.”
Shock made me sit up straight. “What?” We might not have shared quiet chats often, but I thought we did share the big stuff, things like the, ‘hey there, little brother, I’m getting married’ kind of stuff. “Fiancée?”
“I didn’t even get time to tell you. She was in a car accident.”
“What?” It turned out that shock made me a shitty conversationalist.
“And now the house.” He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned heavily on his elbows over the table, looking as close to beaten as I’d ever seen him. “It’s just…it’s a lot.”
I reached out and put a hand on my brother’s shoulder, which made him jump at first and then he lifted his head and met my eye. We sat like that for a while, just sharing the quiet moment, saying the things we hadn’t been able to actually speak.
“Sorry,” he said, shaking off my hand as the food arrived.
“Chance,” I said, waiting until he looked up at me again. “I’m sorry. And if you ever want to talk about it…”
“Yeah.”
We ate in relative silence, and as our plates were cleared, Chance’s back seemed a little straighter, his face a little clearer. “What do you want to do about the house?”
“I want to rebuild,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He nodded. “Me either.”
Surprise washed through me. “You’re staying? What about going down to Sac? Starting something bigger in the valley?”
“Just told you, Sam. I’m tired of losing things. I’m staying here with you. And when you and George pop out little Palmer Georges, I’m going to be right there, spoiling the shit out of them and being their all-time favorite uncle.”
I didn’t know I’d been worried about Chance leaving, but hearing that he planned to stay made me happier than I’d expected it would. I grinned. “Maybe we should build two houses?”
“You don’t want to live with your big brother forever and ever?”
“It’s tempting, but I’m done washing your smelly socks and picking up your dishes.”
“You love taking care of me,” he joked. “Yeah…two houses. Think we can get it through approvals?”
I thought about that. You could rebuild a structure that had been destroyed, but expanding it by much sometimes met with resistance from the approval board. “Well, we did have that old shed down the hill.”
Chance nodded slowly. “Yeah…”
“So we rebuild the house. And the shed.”
“Which one of us gets to live in a tool shed?” he asked, a smile pulling one side of his face up as his eyes gleamed.
“You?” I tried.
“You’re the tool.”
And we’d arrived back at our usual level of maturity.
“If we did it right, the shed could be a pretty cool little two-story setup,” he said.
“If only we knew a talented architect.”
Chance threw a pancake at me and stood, looking a little bit brighter and happier than he had this morning. I accepted the syrup stain on my pants as fair trade for my brother’s lighter mood. “Go draw us some houses,” he said. “I’ve gotta take care of some things down in the valley.”
The way he said it made me think it had something to do with the mysterious fiancée I’d never heard of before, and I wondered if maybe Chance was still seeking some kind of closure there. I wished I’d had a chance to meet the woman who’d managed to get Chance to propose, but I wasn’t going to push right now. “Okay,” I said, and I finished my breakfast and then headed out of the diner under a bright blue sky without even a hint of smoke in the air.
“Sam!” A thin voice wafted toward me as I walked the narrow path that led from the lot to Palmer.
I turned to see Mrs. Teague’s small frame next to her old white Volvo.
I didn’t see Mrs. Teague much around town, but she today she looked thin and small standing by her car. I turned and trotted back to her side. “How are you, Mrs. Teague? Did you go down the hill to evacuate?”
She shook her head and looked sad. “No, Sam. I figured if the house was going, I was going too.”
Shock sifted through me. What a morbid thought. It occurred to me suddenly that Mrs. Teague wasn’t just a little old lady who liked to get a bit handsy with the help. She was lonely—maybe terminally so. “Oh, Mrs. Teague,” I managed, unsure what to say. “Well, i
s the house okay? Anything need fixing? I could come around this afternoon.”
She smiled up at me. “You’re such a good boy, Sam. And that’s exactly what I came to talk to you about. I’m going to refurbish the second floor,” she said. “My grandchildren are going to be coming up for Christmas, and then they’re going to spend summers up here with me.”
“That’s great,” I said, the thought of kids keeping her busy making me happy.
“So I need you to come by and see what needs doing.”
“I can definitely do that, Mrs. Teague,” I told her. “This afternoon then?”
“Whenever is convenient, Sam. I know you’re busy.”
I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll be by around three,” I promised.
She glowed and smiled at me as I walked away, heading for the office where I knew Miranda was waiting for me.
I couldn’t remember ever having been nervous walking through the door of Palmer in the morning for work, but I imagined now that Miranda George and I were…whatever we were…lots of things would be different. I took a deep breath and walked into the lobby, to find her sitting behind her desk, blond hair piled on top of her head, and her dark-framed glasses perched down at the end of her nose as she stared at her screen.
When she heard me come in, her eyes widened and a bright smile lit up her beautiful face. “Sam.” The way she said my name made my heart leap. There was a soft reverence in her voice I’d never heard before, and to know that it was directed at me had parts of my body springing to attention with glee.
“Hey,” I said, unable to manage much more because my heart was trying to expand to ninety times its normal size inside my chest.
She stood and came around her desk, looking slightly uncertain for the briefest second as she pressed herself into my arms. I wrapped her in an embrace and her hands on my back felt like validation, like heaven, like everything I’d ever wanted. I was hit with a wave of gratitude so strong it nearly leveled me. I’d waited my whole life for this, for this girl to finally look up and see me waiting here. And today? I was holding her in my arms.
“I’m so happy to see you,” she said, her head nestled against my chest.
I tightened my grip on her. “This is my favorite day ever so far,” I told her.
That made her laugh and tilt her head back to look up at me, the bright blue eyes dancing. “Why? Did something happen already?”
“You’re here,” I said, feeling totally unable to explain how completely overwhelmed I was by everything.
She kissed my chin, since she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach my cheek, and I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. For a little while, we just stood in the front lobby of the office and kissed, and eventually she loosened her grip and smiled at me again. “I think we have actual work to do.”
I nodded. “I have to design myself a new house,” I said. “And one for Chance.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re both staying?”
“This is our home,” I said, thinking of Chance’s face this morning. “We belong here, both of us.”
She nodded.
“But maybe not in the same house.”
“It’ll be so weird for you—you’ve always been together.”
“We’ll be on the same lot, but we need a little distance.” I thought about Chance’s misery this morning. “I don’t mind having him next door, though. I’m hoping maybe you’ll help me build something you might like to live in one day,” I told her, still a little bit afraid to put too much of my heart out.
She sucked in a quick breath and then grinned wildly. “Can I help?”
“Yeah,” I said, taking her hand. “Come see the ideas I have.” I’d been designing my dream house for years.
“Did I tell you I only have one more credit and I’ll have my design degree?” She said it quietly, and I stopped walking and stared at her.
“No. I had no idea you’d done so much. That’s great.” An idea began to form in my mind, but I didn’t want to overwhelm the girl. I’d told her I loved her and asked her to design a house to share with me all in the space of twenty-four hours. Maybe asking her to be a partner in the business would be too much in the same day. I swallowed down the question and managed a half-crazy grin instead. “Then you’ll design all the interiors and consult as we build.”
It was Miranda’s turn to grin.
I set my bag down at my desk as she walked to my drafting table and began turning pages. I heard her lift one page after another, and then realized what I’d left on the bottom sheet with a flush of embarrassment. “Oh, hey, hold on—”
But it was too late. Miranda stood, staring at her own face looking back up at her. I’d been drawing Miranda for years. She was actually the first thing I’d ever really tried to draw. I felt blood rush into my cheeks and I stepped slowly to her side, wondering what she would think.
“You’ve been drawing me,” she said, but she didn’t sound surprised.
“You’re beautiful,” I said. It was all the explanation I could manage.
She stared down at the sheet, which showed her profile, focused on a close study of her eyes, and had a full body drawing of her laughing down at the bottom. “These are amazing. We should frame them.”
“You don’t mind?”
Her gaze lifted to meet mine, and she laughed, a breathy noise that pulled at the muscles low in my stomach. “I love that you see me this way, that you see me as…beautiful.”
“I don’t think there’s any other way to see you,” I told her, and I wrapped an arm around her and kissed her cheek before bending down to get the plans I’d been working on for years—my dream home.
I rolled out the plans, and Miranda made appreciative noises, moving her finger gingerly through the rooms, picking up details here and there.
“I love this,” she said.
We spent most of the rest of that day planning a house together—planning a future.
Epilogue
Six Months Later
There are a lot of people who don’t much stock in the Farmer’s Almanac, and I can see how they might think it’s a little superstitious, based on wives’ tales and moon phases. But it also seems to be right a lot of the time, and when Dad said the book predicted a snowy winter, it was right.
The first flakes began to drift down from between the huge red trees of our village in early December, coating the ground in a soft white blanket that didn’t impede driving—or progress on Mr. Allen’s cabin, which I’d personally done my very best to reprioritize so that Chance’s promise of having it done by Christmas might come true. After a summer filled with flames and fear, even a little snow felt like a miracle, the cool white flakes soothing the fire scars of our village like a healing balm. Chance and Sam hadn’t begun work on their new houses yet (Mr. Allen’s had to get done first—I made them promise), but plans were finalized and they were going to be amazing. I’d personally picked out almost every major interior feature, and couldn’t wait to see it all put in place. Chance had watched me work with Sam to design the house that I hoped I might share with him one day, and had asked if I’d do the interiors for his as well, and I’d agreed.
“Who knew you had all this talent in you?” Chance asked as I’d showed him my drawings for his new house.
From the other room, Sam shouted, “I did!” And I glowed. Sam’s deep rich voice, always full of support and admiration for me, never got old. And now that we’d had time to explore the love between us, I knew he was telling the truth. Sam had always believed in me, always thought the best of me, even when I was pouring hot soup into his brother’s lap at the diner because of my misplaced crush and stupid nerves.
“I guess that’s why we put your name on the door, huh?” Chance said, smiling at me and giving my shoulder a squeeze.
I grinned. I still couldn’t get over the changes in my life. As soon as I’d graduated with my degree, I’d arrived at work to find Sam and Chance both grinning wildly at me and acti
ng strange. They’d both looked weirdly nervous, and of course that had made me nervous. Once I’d finished tripping and flailing that morning, they’d sat me down and asked if I’d want to be a third partner in the business, handling the interior design aspect of our home building projects. The answer was easy for me, and it led to the name on the door of the office getting changed to Palmer and George Construction. My heart swelled every time I walked through that door, and one of the most gratifying things about my new position—besides the fact that I finally felt like a grownup—was the ability to refer jobs to my mom sometimes. Her business had boomed, too. It looked to be a good year for the George girls.
Soon after the fire, Cameron Turner had come into the office and offered his guest house to Chance and Sam as an alternative to living at the Inn until their homes could be built, and even though Sam was eager to have his own place, they accepted. I was still living with my parents, but I didn’t mind. I felt lucky to have them both in my life, and to have them so close. In fact, Chance and Sam had both begun spending a couple evenings a week at my house just like they had when we were kids and our parents were all friends. In some ways I felt like I was sharing my parents with them, since they’d lost theirs. It was crowded in our little living room once the Palmer brothers with their long legs and wide smiles filled the space, but I don’t think my parents minded any more than I did. Plus, I helped free up seating by perching myself on Sam’s lap most of the time.
It was bizarre—the boy I’d actively worked to hate was the easiest man in the world to love. Sam Palmer was kind and thoughtful, funny and wise. And it had occurred to me more than once that all the things I’d thought I’d hated about him were things I actually loved. He was my steady solid point in a world that shifted quickly. He was like one of the huge big trees that surrounded my home. They stood, no matter what triumphs and tragedies were wrought by the tiny humans who played at their feet. Through thousands of years, they stood witness. If the fire had taken our town, those trees would have stood silently through the turmoil, coming out blackened but unhurt on the other side, steadfastly holding their position on this Earth and marking the passage of another era of humanity. Sam was like that. Less woody and more mobile, but a lot like one of those steadfast trees.
Love Reimagined Page 18
