Olivia followed the woman into the house, her mouth hanging open the farther they got inside. If she thought the outside was impressive, it was nothing compared to the inside.
An enormous marble foyer opened up onto a grand staircase that wrapped around the wall and disappeared beyond a balcony overlooking the second floor.
There was a glass table in the very center of the foyer and the magnificent floral bouquet sitting in the middle of the table was bigger than anything she’d ever seen before. Olivia wondered how they’d even gotten it through the front door.
“I was just about to pour myself a glass of warm apple cider, would you care for some? It won’t take a minute to prepare?”
“Oh, no thank you,” replied Olivia, admiring the artwork on the wall. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“It’s no trouble at all?”
“I’m most certain, thank you.”
“Just one glass is all I’m asking, and I’d sure appreciate the company?”
Olivia sighed with a gentle smile. The woman was only small but she sure was tenacious. “Alright then, I guess one glass won’t hurt.”
“Wonderful, now follow me and I’ll show you to the living room while I run to the kitchen. Spread the chart out on the coffee table and I’ll be back in just a jiffy.”
Mrs. Flannigan walked down a wide hallway so full of artworks it looked more like a gallery, than someone’s home, and Olivia trailed slowly behind her, trying desperately not to look as pathetic and out of place as she felt.
Jeans and sneakers.
What was she thinking?
Not ten minutes later, Mrs. Flannigan handed Olivia a steaming mug of sugary goodness that smelled a whole lot like cinnamon and Christmas.
She pointed to a set of white sofas on the opposite side of the room, positioned in front of the fireplace. An expanse of glass windows stretched the entire length of the room, and the view beyond the glass was filled with huge trees and deep valleys that stretched on for miles and miles, showcasing the mountains beyond.
Awe washed over Olivia in smoky greens and deep purples. Down the valley was a body of water so blue it almost didn’t look real, and she wondered if she were actually imagining things. She blinked. The stunning image was nature at its finest.
On the far side of the lawn was a large swimming pool surrounded by a rockery of shrubs and strappy plants. And there was a slide. Olivia couldn’t believe her eyes. A slide! These kids would definitely have had a trampoline when they were little. That was a given.
“I decorated this place from the ground up,” said Mrs. Flannigan, drawing Olivia’s attention away from the pool. “Drove the husband crazy I did.” She laughed, and took a quick sip of her cider, before placing her mug down on the coffee table. She reached for the swatches and spread them out with her fingers. “Now let’s take a look. What rooms are you planning on painting?”
“I was hoping to start on the kitchen and dining area first. And then eventually move onto the living room and bedrooms. I was thinking something neutral. White, beige, or cream?”
“No, no, you need some color. Trust me. Be bold with your choices. Take what you want and make it your own. Let me see, what about…” Mrs. Flannigan gazed off into the distance, as if she was conjuring up the perfect image in her mind. She spun the color wheel around a few times, before settling on a dark navy blue that somehow looked both warm and cool at the same time. “Here, Cave Dweller. That’s the one!”
Olivia smiled and nodded, loving the color instantly. With crisp white trims, baseboards, and window sills, the blue would pop nicely. She would never have chosen it herself, but it was absolutely perfect, and exactly what she wanted. She could just picture herself surrounded by a color that was almost as unique and calming as the countryside that surrounded it.
A loud crack suddenly sounded on the other side of the window and Olivia looked out, momentarily disoriented by the unexpected intrusion to her thoughts. Her eyes roamed around the yard beyond the glass, a moment passing before she registered the heavy thwack of a hammer falling solidly against wood.
Isaac was standing in the middle of the yard with a black mallet balanced precariously above his head.
He’d taken off his flannel shirt, hung it over a nearby fence, and now he just wore his khakis and the long-sleeved black T-shirt that he’d obviously had on underneath.
His muscles flexed when he let the mallet drop, colliding with the wood again until the two lengths of timber seamlessly became one. The thick pillars were coming together nicely, and Olivia stared at the ornate details in each of the corners, wondering if Isaac had carved them himself.
Isaac then turned back toward the thick lengths of timber he had left stacked on the grass, and he took a slow deep breath, wiping his forearm across his forehead. Heaving the mallet back up above his head again, letting his arms loosen while he adjusted the weight of the mallet in his hands, he groaned on the downward swing, striking the arbor with precision.
As he stood, he glanced briefly toward the house.
And that’s when he caught sight of Olivia watching him through the upstairs window.
He startled and then froze.
His eyes were wide, searching. And Olivia watched him tense, his entire body more rigid than it had been just moments before.
After a few seconds, he unlocked his gaze from hers, and turned his attention back to building the arbor.
Mrs. Flannigan was oblivious to the way Olivia’s eyes roamed over the view outside, and instead she just kept on talking. There was something about fabrics, and throw rugs, pillows and maybe light fixtures thrown in there somewhere too, but Olivia struggled to concentrate on a word the woman said.
Isaac’s intense gaze in those few stolen seconds had left her feeling a little breathless.
It was a strange time to feel a shot of attraction. But there she was. Feeling it all the same. She was strangely attracted to him. Even though she knew she shouldn’t be. He was abrupt. He was peculiar. He was a mountain of a man surrounded by mystery and confusion. So, what did that say about her?
She wondered if he’d noticed.
Olivia watched Isaac bend at the waist, straight legs angled slightly as he drilled holes into one of the shorter lengths of wood. His back was to her now, and as he squatted, his trousers inched lower where his T-shirt had risen up.
Olivia felt a rush of something as she stared at his bare skin. It was smooth and pale, toned yet supple. She knew it was wrong to be blatantly gaping at the man like she was, but there was something that drew her to him in ways she couldn’t quite explain.
Isaac stood tall again, lifting the beam up and over his head this time, and then he turned so that the hard planes of his chiseled stomach were now on full display. Olivia’s teeth pressed into her bottom lip and she brought her fingers to her mouth, smoothing out the sharp sting.
“Enjoying the view?” asked Mrs. Flannigan.
Olivia startled slightly. She felt guilty. She felt like she had been caught red-handed doing something wrong, as if she’d stepped over an unspoken mark. But why?
“I… uh, I was just—”
“I swear, sometimes you can see all the way into the future from that very seat. I don’t blame you. It’s a mighty fine view.”
Olivia looked away. She took a quick sip of her cider, the warm liquid a welcome relief to the tightness in her chest. Placing the mug down on the coffee table, she sat forward and pointed at the color chart. “So, Cave Dweller, yes?”
Mrs. Flannigan ignored the slight breathlessness in Olivia’s voice when she spoke. She nodded, tapping her perfectly manicured fingernail on the dark navy swatch.
“Cave Dweller, for certain. It was made for you. And if you take care of it, if you nurture it and treat it well, it might just last you a lifetime.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate your help.”
Olivia finished off her cider, and then packed up he
r things and headed back toward Isaac’s waiting truck, and as she climbed up into the front seat, she got the overwhelming feeling that perhaps Mrs. Flannigan wasn’t talking about paint at all.
Maybe she was talking about something else altogether.
Isaac’s knee bounced up and down as he drove, his boot tapping out a beat on the floor of the truck as he steered them back along the highway toward Woodlake.
He’d worked tirelessly for hours on the arbor, getting it just right, and then he packed up and left again well before anyone could make a fuss over it, or compliment him on his fine craftsmanship.
He didn’t want praise. He just wanted to go home.
He’d made the short drive back into Williamstown just after midday, placing the paint order at the hardware store, and while they waited for Martha to put it all together, he ducked into the small cafe-style shop next door.
Of course, he didn’t tell Olivia where he was going. He just left her standing out on the street with her arms wrapped around herself, wishing she’d worn a thicker coat.
Clouds had moved in over the course of the morning and now the sky took on an ominous tone, casting the street with shadows, and tiny white flecks that fluttered from the sky.
Not quite snow, but close.
A few minutes later Isaac had emerged again carrying a bag of sandwiches. “Here.” He’d handed it to Olivia and opened the truck door for her. “Don’t say I never give you anything.”
Once the truck was loaded up again with the tins of paint and a box full of brushes, rollers, and drop cloths, they’d hit the road again, eating mostly in silence as they drove, both of them seemingly as hungry as the other but reluctant to be the first to say as much.
Isaac wasn’t entirely sure why his hands were clammy, but he was nervous, and he couldn’t deny the fact that being in such close proximity to Olivia made his stomach drop every time she fidgeted in the seat.
Which she hadn’t stopped doing since they’d hit the highway.
He wanted to tell her to stop. But he didn’t.
Instead, he cracked the window, letting some fresh air in. His hair moved in the cold wind but he didn’t panic, he just let it happen, taking a deep breath in and then releasing it again, along with the pent-up tension he felt in his shoulders.
“Good day at the office?”
Isaac turned slightly to find Olivia looking at him as she wiped the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“Yeah. I guess.”
“The arbor looked amazing. I’m sure the bride and groom will love getting married underneath something so special. I know I sure would.” Olivia hesitated, not sure why she’d just said that last part out loud. Of course, she would love getting married under an arbor just like the one Isaac had made. Who wouldn’t? But she didn’t want him to dismiss her again with her apparently ridiculous romantic notions, so she said, “Did you take a photo?”
“Why would I do that?”
“To show Abe, of course.”
“Really?”
“I’m sure he would have loved to see it all decorated, with the flowers and the lace and ribbons. Mrs. Flannigan went to town on that thing.”
“Over the top, if you ask me.”
Olivia stared at the side of Isaac’s face as he drove, or at least what little she could see of it. She laughed softly. Isaac Stone was the most unromantic, most pessimistic man she’d ever met.
“Seriously, dude, you need to reassess your outlook on life. That crap was pretty. Admit it!”
She thought she saw Isaac smile, the briefest quirk of his lips. But it was gone again just as soon as it appeared. A red splotch marred his cheek as he let his head fall back on the headrest. “Not my style.”
They still had about an hour left in the trip, and Olivia decided now that she finally had Isaac talking, she wasn’t going to waste time not asking him as many questions as she could.
She felt restless, spellbound by the possibilities of finding out more. And now that she had him trapped for the foreseeable future, she wasn’t about to deny herself the opportunity.
“So, what is your style?”
Isaac frowned slightly, something that looked like confusion passing over his expression. His eyes widened and Olivia found herself mesmerized by the bottomless wells of darkness that briefly glanced her way.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… what do you like? What don’t you like? Tell me something about yourself. Something true.”
Isaac turned away, looking back out through the windscreen again to the mountains and the highway beyond. He was quiet for a long moment and Olivia got the feeling that was as far as the conversation was going to go. Her chest felt uncomfortably heavy at the thought.
But just when the silence had stretched out to the point of being awkward, Isaac mumbled a few words under his breath, words that sounded painful and dripped with vulnerability.
“I don’t like coffee.”
Olivia paused, her head slowly tipping to one side as she swiveled in her seat so that she was looking directly at him. She tucked one leg up under the other and searched his words; let them roll around inside her head, as though she was looking for a hidden meaning.
But she found nothing.
A small snort escaped her throat. There was no hidden meaning, no deeper significance. He just didn’t like coffee. End of story.
“Then why the hell did you drink the one I bought for you this morning?”
Olivia picked up the empty to-go that still sat in the cupholder between them. She swirled around the last few drops he’d left in the bottom of the cup. “If you don’t like coffee, you only had to say so. Drinking an entire cup of something you don’t like would be, by definition, insanity.”
Isaac’s lips curled at the corners, and it was the closest he’d come to smiling for real. It reached his eyes, making them glisten. “Insanity, by definition, is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome. Trust me; I won’t be drinking coffee again.”
“Have you ever tried it before?”
“I tried it once, years ago. It tasted like duck water. Today, it still tastes like duck water.”
“Duck water?”
“Yes. Dirty duck water. And I won’t be drinking it again.”
His cheeks lifted and his full lips parted for real this time. It was definitely a smile. Unmistakable. And it was by far the most beautiful thing Olivia had ever seen.
Nothing compared.
Not the dwindling light in the hushed sky. Not the murmuration of starlings that suddenly danced and swirled across the horizon in front of them, black with motion and fluid in shape. Not the white peaks or the soaring mountains that surrounded them.
Isaac Stone’s smile was breathtaking. It was beautiful. And Olivia felt it tear at her soul.
“You’re not getting out of it that easily,” she half-whispered, caught up in the web of the strong, weak man sitting beside her. “I wanted something real. Tell me something about you.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked, glancing quickly over his shoulder as he changed lanes. He accelerated past a slow going logging-truck, before merging back into the right lane again. “Like what?”
Isaac wasn’t sure why he was talking so much. It wasn’t like him at all. And he certainly didn’t like the feeling of humoring someone else, just to keep them happy. Yet, there they were. And he was simultaneously disgusted and pleased with himself when Olivia’s entire face lit up with excitement.
“I don’t know. Just normal stuff, I guess?” She thought about it for a moment, nibbling on the corner of her thumb. “Do you like living out at Briar’s Creek? Do you enjoy working at the hardware store? Anything.”
Olivia felt Isaac’s gaze on her as he flicked the indicator again with his long fingers and then veered the truck off the highway along an exit ramp. He blinked and his reply was a long time coming, but eventually he let out a slow deliberate breath, and said quietly, “Yes. It’s very
peaceful, it allows me the space I need to just be me. And yes. Work isn’t too bad. There are good days and bad days like any other job. But take today for example. Today was… a good day.”
Olivia met his eyes and held his stare. She wanted to believe that his words held truth, that he had in fact enjoyed spending time with her, that his time with her was what had made the day so good.
But she wasn’t sure she was reading him right. He was so straight-faced, so hidden, his emotions and feelings were often impossible to gauge.
“Do you have anyone special in your life?” she asked, and then immediately looked away, embarrassed that she had asked such a personal question.
What was she thinking?
Her brain and the rest of her body were no longer communicating at all now, apparently. She waited, not wanting to speak for fear of saying more, asking something worse. Though she doubted that was in fact possible at this stage. She wanted to know the answer, but she didn’t want to know. But either way it was too late, the question was out there and she couldn’t take it back.
Isaac’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little harder. His eyes narrowed slightly, focused on the road in front of him now as if it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. “I think that goes without saying.”
“It does?”
Isaac spoke quickly, straight to the point. “We’re both adults. We know how these things work.”
“Care to explain?”
Isaac choked back a derisive sound that bubbled up from deep within his chest. He glanced out the window beside him for a split second, and then he was looking at her again, his hair whipping around his face with the sudden movement.
“The world revolves around beautiful people, Olivia. You should know that by now. The most revered members of society are supermodels, movie stars, football players with the kind of bodies and faces that make men want to be them and women want to date them. I don’t look like those men.”
“Beauty is subjective.”
“In theory,” he said, his words low and flat.
“The most beautiful things in the world aren’t always what they seem.” Olivia turned even farther in her seat. Her sneakers squeaked as they rubbed together. “Wanna hear a story?”
The Winter Before Page 8