Tis the Season

by Jill Sanders

  His current project sat under a black tarp in the spot across the garage. Smiling at the heap, he turned and headed into the house through the garage door. It opened into a massive mud room. It was long and narrow and held the new washer and dryer he’d purchased. Two full-sized freezers sat across from the makeshift laundry area. At the end of the space sat a full bathroom. Currently, the walls still had the animal jungle wallpaper someone had put on years ago. He had hoped that the new designer would replace it with something more modern.

  A deep utility sink sat in a countertop just outside the bathroom, with a small window above it that looked out to the large deck that would be replaced come springtime.

  Toeing off his boots by the back door, he hit the garage door and then locked the inside door. He’d been born and raised in Pride but knew that even the small town had attracted the wrong sort as of late.

  Flipping on lights as he went, he stepped into the massive dining room. The wall to his right was filled with built-in pantry cupboards that he’d have to stock sooner or later. It was a nice feature to the house.

  A large window sat on the opposite wall and looked out onto that deck he’d be rebuilding. There was also a glass door that opened onto the same deck.

  Stepping through the dining area, he walked into the kitchen. Here was the heart of the home. Huge windows lined the entire corner of the room. The countertop and the sink sat under them. It was as if there was no wall, just open space. During the day, the view took his breath away. He could see up and down the coast of Oregon, including the small town of Pride that sat just below him.

  He opened the fridge and groaned when there wasn’t even a beer in it. Then he realized the smell that was coming out of the old thing and quickly shut it.

  “Okay,” he said to himself, “mental note one hundred and one. New fridge. Oh…”—he snapped his fingers—“and get beer.”

  He turned around and walked through the formal dining room, which was slightly smaller than the informal one, and made his way into the massive living room. Here, everything he owned sat in a pile in the middle of the floor.

  The carpet had seen better days, and he planned on replacing it with hardwood flooring.

  His large leather sofa sat against the wall. For a moment, he thought about plopping down on it and just falling asleep right there, but then he remembered he’d set up his bed in the master bedroom and detoured down the hallway.

  His bedroom sat at the end of a long hallway. There were two bedrooms on this floor, with the master bathroom in between them. The other bedroom he planned on turning into his office. He had hopes of replacing one of the large windows in the space with sliding doors or French doors that would open out onto the front patio area. One of the things he’d liked so much about the house was that the master and office space were on the main floor.

  There were four bedrooms on the other floor of the house, along with two more full bathrooms and a rec room as large as the living room.

  Bay windows looked out over the side yard, where a small homemade waterfall filled a pond below. The rock wall there was the first thing he’d had Parker look at. He’d wanted to make sure it was safe, since it held up part of the house foundation.

  The man had had a crew out there removing a few large black stones and adding a cement mixture behind them to secure the thing the first week he’d owned the place.

  The water could be turned on or off by a simple hose, which he planned on replacing come springtime with a mechanical kit Parker had suggested.

  He pulled off his shirt, tossed it on the large leather chair in the corner, and climbed into bed. Looking up at the popcorn ceiling, he groaned.

  “Mental note,” he said out loud. “Get rid of the popcorn ceilings.” He turned to his side and suddenly he saw movement again. He jumped up from the bed and flipped on the lamp he’d set on the ground beside the bed.

  His heart was racing as his eyes scanned the room. He was alone. He was sure he’d just seen a silhouette of a woman standing by the bay windows.

  The light illuminated the space. Three long sheer curtains hung over each of the floor-to-ceiling bay windows. They moved in the night as if on their own. He heard the heater kick off and relaxed when he noticed the vent directly in front of the middle window. The blowing heat had probably blown the curtains.

  Shaking his head, he reached to turn off the lights again. When his eyes moved to the windows once more, he swallowed hard at what he saw. After blinking a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, he took a deep breath.

  “H-hello,” he said to the ghostly figure. When he moved to reach for the light again, she raised her finger to her lips as if shushing him, then slowly faded into the night. “Well, hell.” He groaned as he shoved his fingers through his hair. “I guess it’s true. I did buy a haunted house.”

  Chapter 2

  Blake held her knuckles an inch from the bright red front doors of the massive house. She’d sat in her car for a full two minutes just looking at the place. It was massive, and it was beautiful.

  She had done a little research last night after she’d gotten back home. Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she’d Googled the address he’d given her.

  The classical brick home had been built in 1922. The original owner had died a few years after it was completed. Families had come and gone. According to the city documents, the electricity and plumbing had all been updated along with a cobblestone driveway and a few other necessities.

  There was a large cement courtyard tucked in the U-shape of the front of the house. In the center of the space was a spot for a tree, which now was full of weeds and a knee-high hollow stump.

  Windows looked out on the patio area from every direction.

  There were two sets of doors that led from the patio into the house. She debated which one to approach, the single door with the large window or the more formal double doors. In the end, she had decided on the formal doors, since she planned on this being strictly a business relationship.

  She gasped and jerked her hand back when the door flew open before she knocked. Her arm was still raised and so she quickly lowered it and tucked it behind her back.

  “I was wondering if you were going to turn tail and run.” Matthew leaned against the doorway, smiling at her.

  Her eyes ran over him, much as they had the house. Worn jeans hugged him, and the black T-shirt he wore had dust spots all over it. She could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead and, as she watched, he used his arm to swipe it out of his eyes.

  “Debating on coming in?” he asked. “I promise not to bite,” he joked.

  Her back stiffened and she raised her chin slightly as she glided by him.

  She stepped into the middle of a very long hallway that ran from one end of the house to the other. There were stained French doors with moveable wood slats that led into the main living space. Stepping in, she removed her jacket as he helped her out of it. Her eyes moved to the high ceiling lined with wood planks and the beautiful stone fireplace that sat on one wall.

  Large cross windows looked out to the field and the ocean beyond.

  “Wow,” she sighed.

  “Yeah, that’s what I said when I first walked in here.” Matt stood beside her.

  She moved over to the windows. The sun had come out earlier that morning, melting the light dusting of snow they had gotten last night.

  The fields were a dull brown, but she could just imagine what it would be like come spring. To her left stood a large glass door. She put her hand on the handle, but Matt stopped her.

  “I wouldn’t. The deck isn’t safe. It’s going to be replaced next spring,” he added.

  She nodded and moved back to the windows.

  “So,” he said after a moment, “how about I show you around and you tell me what you have in mind?”

  She glanced over at him and chuckled. “I’ll look around, but I think you have it the wrong way around. You’ll have to tell me what you want. What
your vision is for the place.” She took up her case, which she’d set down just inside the doorway.

  Carrying it to the coffee table, she sat down and pulled out one of the standard packets she’d made up for her business, Coastal Interior Designs.

  “If you want, we can look over my pricing first,” she said, looking up at him.

  He was looking at her, smiling. “Blake, whatever your price is, it’s well worth it.” He motioned around. “Come, take a look around. You’ll agree with me.”

  Leaving the folder on the table, she followed him around the house. She counted five bedrooms, six if you added the one he wanted to turn into an office for himself.

  There were two huge living rooms, one upstairs and one down, both with beautiful fireplaces that needed a little work. There was a formal and an informal dining room, and a massive mud room. There were two large storage rooms, as well, in the smaller third-floor attic. Well, fourth floor, if you counted the massive unfinished basement that was buried deep in the bedrock of the hillside. There weren’t any windows in the lower space. Matt had mentioned using it only for storage for now. There were four full bathrooms, which needed some serious help. The carpet, old tile floors, and the walls all needed some TLC.

  She calculated the space and turned to him.

  “Are you just wanting decoration help or the full deal?” she asked.

  He frowned at her. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, beyond helping with paint, flooring, etc., are you wanting my help to fill the space? I can do everything from wallpaper to furnishings.”

  He nodded quickly. “Yes.” He took a step closer to her. “I want it all.”

  Her heart skipped at the drop of his voice and the look he was giving her. His green eyes bore into hers. She had to look away before she did something she’d regret.

  “So, when can you start?” he asked as she made her way back to the main floor.

  Here, she had learned in the past year to pause and pull out her phone. It didn’t do her business any good to not look busy or to overtax herself.

  Glancing at her calendar, she was about to answer, when he glanced over her shoulder and sighed.

  “Looks like you’re booked for a while,” he said beside her.

  She groaned and stepped away, still scanning her phone as she calculated. “I’ll be free the week after Thanksgiving. If that’s too far…” She stopped when he shook his head.

  “I’m not in a hurry.”

  She nodded, thinking about the benefits herself. “Until then, I’ll come up with a few concepts and email them to you. Let’s go over each room, so you can tell me exactly what it is you want.”

  He shrugged. “Aren’t you the expert?”

  “Yes, but… it’s your home.”

  “The only things I care about are…”—he started ticking the items off on his fingers—“my office, that you don’t make it too… woodsy and manly. Something light, airy, open feeling.” She nodded. “And I want you to get the gold out of the master bedroom. And last, the jungle animals have to go in the laundry room bathroom.”

  She chuckled as she wrote some notes. “What else?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “That’s it. Everything else I’ll leave in your capable hands.”

  “Everything?” she asked, swallowing.

  “Everything.” Again, his voice lowered, and she felt the sound of it reverberate between her legs, remembering how he’d felt there, what he’d done to her the last time they’d been together. Shaking her head, she took a deep breath. “What’s your budget?”

  “There isn’t one.” He walked into the kitchen and took a beer from an old orange fridge that he’d stocked on his trip into town earlier that morning for breakfast and supplies. “Want one?” he asked. She shook her head no. “Soda?”

  She nodded and took the can from him, opening it and taking a sip.

  “I’m assuming you’ll want all new appliances as well?” she asked, noting the matching orange stove and dishwasher. She looked around and saw there wasn’t any space for a microwave. The old cream countertops had seen better days.

  “Parker’s doing this room next. He starts tomorrow,” he told her.

  “Parker?”

  “My brother-in-law. He’s the one that remodeled the master bathroom.”

  The master bath was the only room she’d been impressed with. It could still use her touch, but at least the shower and fixtures weren’t from the sixties.

  “I can work with him on picking everything out.” She made a note. “Do you have his number?”

  “Sure.” He walked over to the fridge and pulled down a business card. “Here.”

  “He married your sister?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Sara. Two years ago. They’re expecting their first child near Christmas.” His face lit up with pride.

  “Congratulations.” She tucked the card into her portfolio. “I’m assuming the rest of the house will be remodeled as well?”

  “A few things here and there, but for the most part, Parker and his crew are just making sure everything’s safe. They fixed some electric and plumbing issues, then reroofed the place before the first snowfall. He promised me he’d have the kitchen and everything else done before Christmas.” He sighed. “Which means, he’ll be working while I’m away.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re going somewhere?”

  “On Monday I head to India.” He motioned for her to sit on one of the two bar stools he had. She set her portfolio down and took the seat.

  She’d worn stupid I-want-to-impress-you heels again, and her feet were killing her.

  She tried not to sigh with relief when she sat down.

  “What is it that you do, exactly?” she asked.

  This time it was his eyebrows that shot up. “I run the family business,” he said after a moment of silence.

  “Which is?” She waited.

  “Import export.”

  She chuckled. “Like the mob?”

  He laughed. “No, it’s one hundred percent on the up and up. It’s been in the family for generations.”

  She nodded. “It takes you all over the world?”

  “It can.” He sipped his beer. “What about you? Why where you in Italy?” he asked after another pause.

  “School, home.” She shrugged.

  “Home?” he asked. “Now you’re near here?”

  She nodded. “I was born in Italy, moved to LA with my mother when I was a year old, then I moved to Edgeview last year.” She took another sip of her soda.

  “Why did you go to school in Italy if you lived in LA?” he asked her. “I mean, I get that you were there for design…”

  “The best designers in the world are there,” she answered truthfully.

  “Did it pay off?” His eyes ran over her face.

  She’d heard these questions from her father and felt the same tension build as when he’d asked her.

  “Yes.” She stood up. His hand on her arm stopped her from walking away.

  “Why did you leave it then?”

  “I had to.” She frowned down at his hand.

  “Why?”

  Just then his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he sighed at the interruption. After glancing down at the screen, he moaned. “I have to take this.”

  She nodded and took that moment to compose herself, breathing deeply until she was back under control.

  “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to head into the office.” He rolled his eyes.

  “No, it’s okay.” She moved down the hallway towards the living room.

  “I’ll see you here, tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Yes, we’ll go room by room. I’ll want to take a scan of the house, for my program.” She jotted a few notes down.

  “Sure, how about nine?”

  She nodded and glanced up at him. “I’ll be here.”

  “Thanks.” He followed her to the front door. “Blake, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.
”

  “Hold that thought until after you see my bill.” She smiled.

  He chuckled. “See you tomorrow.” His voice did that sexy dip again and she forced herself not to sigh with want until after she got into her truck.

  As she drove back down the hill, she tried to keep her mind on the house and not the man. There was so much she could do to the place. It could become a showcase that she could use to get other clients. Her first big break.

  By the time she pulled into her apartment complex, she had a million ideas. The next four hours she spent hunched over her laptop, putting everything she could into the program. She’d put together a rough floorplan, but she kicked herself when she couldn’t remember the finer details of the master bedroom’s walk-in closet.

  When her cell phone rang, she ignored it at first, but it rang again. Looking down, she saw her father’s number and groaned loudly. Her cat, Butters, glanced at her from across the room.

  “Hey, Daddy,” she answered cheerfully.

  “Hi, zucca.” Her father had called her pumpkin her entire life. “I was just checking in to see if you had a chance to look over that proposal I sent you.” Her father’s thick Italian accent had always been soothing to her.

  She held in another groan. “Yes, I have.” She waited, knowing what was coming.

  “And?”

  “Daddy, I love you, but I want to do this on my own.” She’d told him more than a dozen times in the last week alone.

  “I know, zucca, it’s just… well, my friends are your friends. Why not let us help you get a start? It’s been almost a full year and you’re still living in that small apartment.”

  “I like it here,” she said automatically. “I have a new job. A big one. One that will put me on the map.” She knew what would reach her father.

  “Oh?” He sounded interested. “Who for?”

  “One of the best families in the town next to mine.”

  “Sounds promising. Give me their names. I’ll look them up.”

  “No, Daddy. Like I said, I’m doing this one all by myself.” She frowned and wished she’d kept her mouth shut, knowing her father wouldn’t leave it alone.