Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“You can sell clothes?” Griff was surprised. “Like, unwashed?”
I groaned. “Yeah, ya can. Ask me next time.”
He nodded.
“Let’s see the attic.”
I wasn’t crazy about being all the way up there. A steep, narrow stairway led up to it, but at least the steps were carpeted, and once I was in the space, it wasn’t terrible.
The door at the top opened to a small area that must’ve been Caitlyn’s workspace. There was a dress mannequin, clear boxes with drawers full of ribbons, yarn, swatches of fabric, and to the left was a sewing machine and a wall of wreaths. They were in every size and color for every holiday imaginable. There was also a window that looked down onto the street and the front of the house.
Beyond four racks of vintage clothes, there was another room with a large, heavy tapestry rug on top of the wall-to-wall carpet. To the right stood an empty mahogany-stained bookcase, which must’ve been moved there when the built-ins went in downstairs. Beside that was an old wingback chair upholstered in olive-green burlap and linen, with a matching ottoman. To the left, next to a large window and an end table doubling as a nightstand—complete with hurricane lamp on top and a drawer where my gun case would fit nicely—was a queen bed with a beautiful handmade quilt on it, like the one Locryn had, crafted by his maternal grandmother from his mother’s baby clothes. Lots of pillows were strewn atop the quilt, and when I tried the bed, it was surprisingly firm.
“Who was the bed for?” I asked Griff.
He shrugged. “Mom would sleep here sometimes when she was up late making something and got sleepy.”
It was perfect, and even better, there was a small card table and chair where I could set up my laptop, and a space heater if I got cold.
“This is great,” I said, but when I turned around, the boys’ faces, all scrunched up, gave me pause. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s creepy up here,” Darwin assured me.
But it was not at all. It was actually very cozy. And yes, I was on the third floor, but the kids were right below me, I had cameras covering the main parts of the house, and at night, once the house was locked down, if anything opened, I would be notified. And it wasn’t like I was a heavy sleeper. I had been when I was younger, but not since the Army. Those days were long over.
My phone pinged as the garage door opened.
“Okay, go down and greet your grandparents,” I directed them.
Neither boy moved.
Just then the house rocked with a huge boom of thunder, and a second later, a little black ball of fur streaked into the room and climbed Griff like a tree.
“I don’t think Wink is crazy about the thunder,” I said, watching Griff pet the cat now sitting on his shoulder, nuzzling his hair.
Walking over to the window that looked down onto Tabitha and Melody’s house, I noted how lovely their landscaping was, while at the same time enjoying the rain pelting the window and seeing the lightning illuminating the sky.
“You guys need to go. I’ll be right behind you.” After a moment, hearing no movement, I turned to them. “What’re you doing?”
“You need to come too,” Darwin replied.
“I will, but you need to go now. Your grandparents came a long way to spend time with you all.”
Once they left me, I unpacked, put my laptop on the card table, put my gun case in the drawer of the end table, used some empty bookshelves for my clothes, and then sat down on the bed and checked all the cameras. The grandparents greeted the kids, hugging them, Luke’s father was his same height, handsome, with white hair and a ruddy complexion. His mother had long silver hair, braided and lying over her shoulder, and she was glancing around and smiling, probably over the changes. They were cute in their matching winter vests. These were not frail grandparents, but instead active ones, if their athleisure wear and running shoes were any indication. She was in head-to-toe Lululemon, and his father had on a tracksuit. Their pleasure at getting to spend time with their son and their grandchildren was evident from their bright, happy faces.
There was another woman there as well, beautiful, mid-to-late thirties, wearing a tan off-the-shoulder sweater, jeans, and leopard-print heels. She appeared terribly chic but also as though she’d thrown everything on. The messy bun she’d pulled her blonde tresses into made her seem approachable, as did her flashing smile. Tatum seemed dazzled by her, staring, and it was ridiculous, but I felt the twinge anyway. I wanted to be her favorite. As I watched, the woman went to stand next to Luke, laughing at something he must have said, and put her hand on his forearm. Whoever she was, she clearly found the man I had designs on quite appealing.