Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 59231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59231 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Ryan left his belt and tools in my front closet so he didn’t have to take them back and forth, which also meant I could use them when he wasn’t around. I kept my repairs to smaller, simpler jobs when I was alone, but occasionally, I needed a screwdriver or wrench or something that I didn’t have in my own paltry toolset.
Pulling my hair back into a tight ponytail and wrapping my head in a handkerchief, I set about painting one of the upstairs bedrooms. I remembered it being the guest bedroom for adults when I was little. Dad slept in it when he came, and even though there was a room for me, I was so little and easily spooked I would run across the hall to it and get in bed with him when I got scared. Back then it had been baby blue, and I always loved that. It was soft and cheerful. The white curtains and pillows in the room made it seem like I was floating around with the clouds in a peaceful sky.
At some point, the tenants had painted it an ugly beige color, which disappointed me worse than anything else in the house. So, after ordering paint online and having it delivered at an expense I tried not to think about, I was setting about returning the room to the glory of my childhood. I was halfway through the primer when I got a call and stopped to check it. I hoped that it was Ryan, telling me he was on the way over for lunch or that he had taken the rest of the day off.
I was even more excited when I saw it was the realtor’s office.
“Hello?” I asked, a hope in my voice that I should have known not to trust. Only minutes later, I was hanging up, hanging my head and trying not to cry.
“What happened?” Ryan asked when he got over to my place after work and I told him I had gotten bad news.
“The place I wanted for the bed and breakfast,” I said. “It’s apparently not available.”
“Then why was it listed at the real estate office?” he asked, guiding me into the living room area, which we had deemed as the war room, and I had bought a couple of small chairs for.
“They said it wasn’t supposed to be listed, that it was a mistake from years ago. The person who owns it doesn’t even live in town and hasn’t had anything to do with it since inheriting it, and they were contacted to sell it. But then the owner decided they didn’t want to sell, and wanted to hold on to the property, even though no one lives there.”
I was surprised by the emotion in my own voice. I didn’t want to whine, but I was upset. I hadn’t even realized how much I had just decided it was going to work out and had made plans around it. I could just see how beautiful it would be.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he said, pulling me in for a tight hug.
In spite of myself, I felt tears well up in the corners of my eyes and dampen his shoulder.
“I know,” I said. “I just stupidly had my heart set on that place.”
“It wasn’t stupid,” he said. “You had every reason to believe it was a possibility.”
“I guess,” I said. “I just don’t understand why people would do something like that for no good reason.”
“There was no other reason than they just didn’t want to sell?” he asked.
“That’s what they said. Something about a family dispute.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“At least I got the loan from the bank,” I said.
“You did?” he asked, suddenly brightening up. It was enough to get me to almost smile. Telling him about the second, much happier phone call I got was the reward I had given myself for getting though the emotions of admitting defeat on the house.
“I did,” I said. “It isn’t a whole lot, but it’s enough to help with the house repairs. I just have to keep looking for somewhere else for the B and B.”
“That’s some good news at least,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah,” I said, “and I guess it means we can be neighbors for a little while longer.”
“I like that too,” he said, pulling me in for a kiss. “You know what you need?”
“The owner of the house to realize he is an idiot and wants to sell it to me for a dollar?” I asked.
“Besides that,” he said, grinning. “You need a night out. Away from all this work and thoughts about the house. Come on. I want you to meet some of my friends, and we can have a drink or two.”
“I would like that,” I said. “I would like that very much.”
Going over to his place to get cleaned up, I resisted the urge to just crawl into bed with him and end the day. As much as being in his arms and letting the passion that naturally took over do so, I also did just want to get out. I hadn’t gone out and enjoyed myself in so long that I couldn’t remember the last time. Going out with friends wasn’t exactly a regular thing with my ex, and over time, we just didn’t go out at all.