“And you all figured, why not take mine?” I nod slowly like this is perfectly okay. Which it’s not.
“You can’t say you didn’t see it coming.”
I take a sip of coffee and cross my feet at my ankles. I’m weirdly calm. Yes, this is a shit thing to spring on me but, as I’d been trying to figure out how to kindly tell Sarah I was leaving, her news is really a boon. I don’t need to let her know that, though. Up and kicking out a roommate to make way for two new ones isn’t cool.
“How on earth would I see this coming, Sarah?”
She raises her hands in exasperation. “Since yournews—” At this she gives me a repressive glare. It’s been a bone of contention that I didn’t tell her August wasn’t just a friend but my fiancée “—there have been people hanging around, taking pictures, trying to follow me upstairs.”
My ire fizzles. I’d encountered the occasional photographer or gawker since August’s press conference, but I hadn’t thought it would bleed into her life too. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. Truly. I never wanted that to happen.”
Sarah softens as well. “It’s not your fault people are nosy dicks. And no one in their right mind would blame you for landing August Luck. The man is gorgeous and a legend in the making.”
I’m certain August would cringe right now.
“I mean, well done you,” Sarah says with heart.
“Ah, thank you.”
“But you can’t stay.” She leans in, all business now. “You never signed a lease.”
“It’s the first of October. I just paid this month’s rent!”
“I’ll give you a refund.”
“That’s nice. But I’m pretty sure giving me no notice is illegal, lease signing or no, so I’m going to take my time moving things.” Call me petty. I don’t care.
Though I can practically hear her teeth grind, she wisely refrains from complaining. “Very well. Though I’d have thought you’d move in with August by now. He’s got to have a great spot.”
“I’m not moving into August’s house.” Let her make of that what she will. I’m feeling salty.
Her brows lower. “You’re not one of those ‘wait until you’re married’ types, are you?”
Her question doesn’t dignify an answer. I decide then and there to start today. I leave Sarah hovering in the kitchen—God knows why since she’s delivered her news; maybe she really wanted more of a struggle. Even if I hadn’t any place to go, I wouldn’t have given her one. Filling a duffel with some clothes and a fair bit of toiletries, I head for home.
Home. That feels good to say.
The house is still and quiet when I let myself in. It’s the gentle calm of sanctuary. The wide plank floorboards, honed to a silky soft finish, give off the faint scent of old wood. Sunbeams stream in wide blocks and warm the air.
I toe off my shoes and pad down the back hall to Pops and Pegs’s bedroom. It’s mine now. Initially, I’d been hesitant about claiming this room as my own. One did not simply take over one’s grandparents’ private space. But they’d left this home, and everything in it, to me, which means they’d wanted me to have it fully. Earlier, after they’d died, I’d cleaned out their personal effects, picking what could be donated and what to save in storage. Mom helped me do it, but it had still been awful.
The bed is stripped clean, as are the clothes closets and dresser drawers. I find fresh bedding in the cedar linen closet off the main room. White, fine-spun cottons, softly worn pure linen, fluffy comforters, these are the things my grandmother loved.
Lavender and sage sachets, tucked among the sheets to keep their freshness, scent the air when I snap out the top sheet. It billows like a cloud before gently settling into place. With each layer put on, I feel myself settle a little more. A toss of a snowy down comforter, fluffing plump pillows, the simple tasks done here in this room remind me of watching Pegs do the same.
Once they’re done, I smooth a hand over the cool cover and then head to the bathroom with my toiletries. Pops and Pegs expanded the main bath some years back, breaking through a wall and claiming some of the space from an unused bedroom. It’s far bigger than I need. A long double sink topped with softly honed marble takes up one wall. On the other is a big soaking tub, shower stall, and two toilet rooms. Two, because, as Pegs once said,I love my husband dearly but some things should be kept very separate. Toilets are definitely one of them.
I smile at the memory.
As in the rest of the house, the walls are soft white stucco with no sharp edges. Pale distressed oak trims the windows and runs in beams along the ceiling. Late Deco period bronze sconces in the shape of little hands holding frosted glass flower shades are set between the mirrors and over the tub. In the corner, by a wall of windows, is a built-in vanity table original to the house. I used to watch Pegs put her makeup on there. I’d sit on the edge of the tub, while she brushed out her hair or spritzed her perfume. She once told me she’d done the same, watching her mother “glamor up.”
The ghost of her laughter lingers in my memory as I set out my own makeup, brush, and one bottle of perfume I’ve brought along. The act makes the space feel a little less empty. On impulse, I take a small potted jade plant from the veranda hall and set it on the vanity top. A framed picture of me and my grandparents leaning in close and smiling while at the beach is found in the den. I set it next to the jade.
Pleased, I head for the kitchen. Unfortunately, aside fromsome condiments and spices, there’s no food. That will have to change. I’m not bringing anything with me from Sarah’s place. Biting the bullet, I place a huge order for the basics. It’s too much for me to carry, so I have it delivered and add a big tip. The extravagance makes me squirm, but I’ll be saving on cooking at home. Besides, the vegetable garden is miraculously still going, surviving my amateur gardening attempts.
I’d looked up methods and tried my best to figure it all out, but I’m not a natural green thumb. Even so, when I let myself into the small greenhouse, it’s satisfying to see beds of lettuces and herbs thriving rich and green. There’s squash, red and green peppers, some sort of chili, and what appears to be carrots? I’m not experienced enough to know by sight and don’t want to go yanking things out. More study is clearly needed. The tomatoes, however, hang heavy and ripe with promise. I pick several plump ones and add them to my basket of butter lettuce and herbs. I bring them into the house and make myself a small salad while I wait for my groceries.
After years of dorm rooms then the chaos of Sarah’s place, I relish the silence. It’s not lonely but soothing. Maybe later I’ll want people around me, but for now, I eat my salad and pull out my laptop to start a few assignments.
