“More than ready.” I grin.
Which honestly feels so good. I haven’t been smiling, and it’s only in the last day or so here I realized how sad that is. My natural state, at least one point in time, was positiveand hopeful. I lost that during my marriage, but I’ve worked hard to rediscover my mental health.
I don’t have the rose-colored glasses of living somewhere new and discovering the gems in this small town like I might’ve before. But so far, the people are great—creepy landlord excluded—and the stores are adorable. There’s already so much good, and so much I’ve been hoping for here, I can’t helpbutsmile.
As stressed as I was leaving LA and getting here, I feel so much lighter already.
Recognizing the lightness has me stumbling over my own feet as I find my car. I’ve seen enough to know a few positive interactions doesn’t mean there’s nothing to worry about. I’d be a fool to skip around and pretend like the hard-won lessons life has taught me won’t apply here, too. But I can make it; I know this, inside and out.
So, I follow behind her as she navigates on the state road leading out of town in a direction I haven’t been yet, but I hold my wariness close.
I’d planned to drive around and get a feel for the town and surrounding area, but I haven’t dared do that on the donut. But for this? A potential place to stay? Worth the risk and having to stay a touch below the speed limit.
We pull down a long, freshly paved driveway that cuts through tall pines and other trees and eventually ends at a lovely house that looks like something straight out of the dreams I never let myself dream. Two stories with a wide porch and four windows facing the drive. There are bushes in front, all tidy and trimmed back for winter.
Next to the main house is a large garage—three bays are below including one that is the full height of the building that looks like it might house an RV or a gigantic boat, and a door is on the opposite end.
“So that’s the door—there are stairs up. Shall we?” She twirls a set of keys around one finger.
I smile, trying to take in everything I need to. It looks safe from what I can tell—sturdy locks and door, perfectly clean from the landscaping of neat white rocks in a bed surrounding squatty bushes lining the building, and not a speck of trash or dirt all the way up the stairs on the interior. There’s another door at the top, and then inside, my heart flutters when I see the space.
“Oh.” It escapes involuntarily.
“I know it’s super small, but I’m hoping?—”
“No, it’s adorable. I don’t know what I expected from an over-the-garage place, but this is so homey and cute.”
It has a wrought-iron bed in the far corner and along the same wall about ten feet away is a TV on a black painted stand and a cushy oatmeal-colored couch with a rainbow of throw pillows in each corner. The space feels separate because of a pretty green screen with pine trees lightly outlined in gold. Directly opposite the living room is a tiny kitchen, though it has a full-sized fridge and oven. To the left of where we are is a door I assume is a bathroom. I see at least two places to roll out a yoga mat, and one of the three windows is letting in enough sun to create a spot on the floor, which means Mr. Bingley will have a sunny napping place.
“It’s not bad. It has everything you need, and you’ll get creative if you have to.” She smiles as she looks at the place and I believe she has good memories here.
That, maybe more than how cozy it already seems to me, makes me certain I could live here. Maybe, like it was for her, this little home could be a place where I can rest. Maybe eventually even taste some of that happiness for myself.
“I’m definitely interested.” My voice shakes and I knit my fingers together because I am so much more than that. I’m also painfully aware I may not be able to afford it.
“Rent is reasonable, and I mentioned utilities are included. You get one of the garage bays, which is very welcome on snow days. Delivery out here is fine, though sometimes they’ll mix up a box and it’ll go to the main house, but they’ll get it sorted out once they know you’re over here. Small-town bonus.” She winks.
I chuckle and tamp down my nerves, steeling myself, then ask what rent is, specifically. When she tells me, everything in me relaxes because I can do that. Even if I can’t find a job for another week or two, I can pay that amount, still eatsomething, and live here.
“How soon is it available?”
She grins. “Right this minute. Let’s go get your stuff and move you in!”
I laugh full-out now but accept, because I have no choice about it. This place is mine. It feels like it chose me.
And I can’t help but feel like everything that has happened today is showing me I’m meant to be here—in Juniper View and yes,right here, too.
The instant that thought crosses my mind, there’s a pit in my stomach. Nothing in my life has worked this way—seamlessly, easily, almost joyfully. And that realization clicks in just in time.
I won’t be lulled into complacency or even a false sense of security. There will be another shoe dropping, and when it does, I won’t be caught daydreaming of sunny spots and possibilities.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Grant
Iarrive home to two familiar cars in the driveway and my youngest sister popping her head out with wide eyes and a smile.
“Auntie May!”
