Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 892(@200wpm)___ 713(@250wpm)___ 594(@300wpm)
I lift my phone out of my pocket and turn the flashlight on and peer down.
There’s rubbish at the bottom. The walls are stained. I have to lean back though, as the bleach is overpowering; I feel it in my sinuses. I back away, thinking this is a hazard with only a slight enclosure of bricks around it, perhaps a foot high. On the floor beside it there’s a little projector, I think. Strange. It doesn’t look old. It looks new.
Leaned against the wall near it is what looks like a large lid. It should be re-covered until he can get that filled in.
Before I get to the electrical panel straight ahead on the far wall, I see the backside of the basement looks like it might have been finished at one stage, but has been partly demolished. I also spot a large, black steel door with a shiny silver doorknob. It looks new.
I turn the knob, unsurprised it doesn’t budge. A big, also new-looking, black wheelie trash bin sits outside of it along with a large toolbox. I’m about to lift the lid of the bin when I hear my name.
“Violet? What the fuck are you doin’ down here?”
I spin. Killian is coming toward me with concern on his face.
“Oh.” I move to the panel and flick the breaker. “Because of that. I was running too many appliances in the kitchen.”
“Should’ve called me.”
“You were busy. Gee, it’s freezin’ down here.” I shudder. “Plus I found it easily enough. I’m no electrician but I can flip a switch,” I quip.
“Let’s get back upstairs,” he says curtly.
“What’s all this?” I ask, gesturing to the door.
“Just some shit I need under lock ‘n key. Nothing for you to worry about.”
He puts his arm around me and leads me back the way I came.
“And that?” I stop and point to the pit.
“Old cistern. Water storage at some point.”
“Reeks of bleach.”
“Yeah. Had a smell. Poured bleach down there to try to get rid of it.”
I flash my phone flashlight into it again and stare at the half a dozen bleach bottles sitting down there, finding it odd that he tossed them down there.
“Your man cave needs a lot of work,” I muse.
And then my eye catches on a rust-colored letter V on the wall, and a little lower, a sideways slash.
“Sure does. I put it on the backburner though. I’ll think about resuming soon, when I find a new contractor. Stay up there, okay? No girls allowed.” He swats my butt and steers me the other way. I turn the flashlight off.
“He-man woman haters club?” I inquire.
“Just unsafe. Too filthy for my queen. How’s that lasagna comin’ along? You need some help?”
“No, all under control now that I know not to run that many things at one time. I was… uh… trying to blend the cheesecake batter while too many things were on, I guess.” I shrug.
“I’ll get the electrical upgraded when the new furnace gets put in.”
“Good idea,” I say.
“Lookin’ forward to dinner. And dessert,” he says, nibbling on my throat and making me squirm.
It’s been a good weekend so far. We went to a couple antique stores this morning and though I didn’t find any antiques that screamed ‘buy me’ I did pick up a bunch of paint and stain swatches so we can mull over some colors, as well as a cute welcome mat that’s covered in dandelions gone to seed, which is just so appropriate. We also bought two small space heaters. And the hand mixer so I can make cheesecake. And a television and streaming box for the bedroom. I’m making lasagna for us for dinner and cheesecake for dessert before we have a campfire and pick a movie to watch. We have plans for more antiquing tomorrow before we head back to the city.
“You need some help?” he asks again.
“Nope. We’ll be eating in about an hour and a half, I think. Does that work for you?”
“Absolutely.” He kisses me and heads to the fridge, opening a beer. “You want me to open a bottle of wine?”
“No. Go finish chopping your wood. I’ll wait for dinner. Gotta use the bathroom.”
I zip to the bathroom to use the facilities and when I come back out, ready to go back to blending my cheesecake, Killian’s already gone outside.
***
I wake up feeling like I’m baking inside an oven.
The space heater is blowing way too much dry heat at me, so I climb out of bed, flick the lamp on and adjust the heater’s temperature down a little before I move the unit back as far from the bed as it can get.
I’m alone. Where’s Killian?
I put my robe on and head downstairs. The lights are all off except for the lamp in the living room and a light over the stove. No Killian.