Page 6 of The Boy from Half Moon

“My second, actually. That and my ex liked to move a lot, and we purchased three homes together,” I said. “Well, he paid for them, but I was involved,” I added. I was making sure she knew I wasn’t buried in mortgage debt, as well as mentioning my ex was a male.

“This unit is kind of large for a single guy,” she commented.

“I’ll use the second bedroom as an office, or not, who knows, and hopefully I won’t be single forever,” I quipped. “I’m the marrying type.”

She laughed at my comment before pinching her brow. Her expression appeared like she was thinking about or recalling something important. “You mentioned earlier that you just started working at Browning & Browning, didn’t you?” she asked. I nodded. “That blew right past me earlier. I don’t know how I forgot this, but my nephew works there, too.”

“No way,” I said. “Criminal Law?”

“Actually, he more than works there. He’s one of the Browning’s in the company’s name. He mostly involves himself in recruiting now that he and his father have grown the firm so big,” she stated. “Wait a second,” she began, leveling her eyes on me as the obvious became clearer.

I smiled. “Is your nephew, Alec Browning?” I asked. “Black hair, incredible smile?”

“Oh my God. That’s Alec,” she said. “Alec is my sister’s only child.”

“Well,” I began. “We haven’t officially met yet, but Alec was instrumental in hiring me away from a Seattle firm. I start on Monday. Small world.”

Sarah lowered her voice even though we were alone in the loft. “I’m sure Alec wouldn’t mind me saying this, but he’s also gay.”

I’d assumed that much about Alec from a Zoom meeting, where he’d mentioned how Bend had something for all of us. “Gay, but he’s also my boss.” I reminded her.

“Oh, don’t worry. Alec isn’t like that,” she assured me. “Frankly, I don’t understand how he’s single. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, smart, and cultured, but then again, I’m his favorite biased aunt.”

“I’ve seen him on a video screen,” I said. “At least his upper body anyway,” I corrected. “So I believe you.”

“Oh, you just wait until you see the whole package,” she encouraged.

I’d seen his face so if his whole package matched that, I looked forward to meeting all of him. Unfortunately, I also knew that blending pleasure with business was not a recipe for success.

“Okay, so anyway,” she said. “I’ll get the offer written up and email it to you later.” Sarah packed up her briefcase and started for the door. “Look out for my nephew,” she added.

“May I hang out a bit and look through the unit?” I asked. “Take pics and measurement estimates?”

She reached into her jacket pocket. “Use this,” she said, laying a measuring tape on the kitchen island. “You can leave it here when you’re done. I’m in and out all the time as the principal broker of this property.”

After Sarah left, I moved around the loft and imagined how I’d decorate the space. The building was in The Old Mill District, on the west side of Bend. The neighborhood had undergone a massive restoration and now featured great shops, restaurants, and bars. The loft was in an old grain warehouse that had originally been constructed using local timber and brick in the 1920s.

Much of the original timber was still present in the support beams and structure. Some units had more brick than others, depending on the unit’s floor location within the building. Updated utilities and elevators had brought the building to code, while careful design maintained much of its historic old-world charm.

The unit I wanted had one large room on a main floor that was completely open, except for the sizable guest bedroom with an ensuite bath. A half bath was in the opposite corner near an open kitchen. Four support columns made of old-growth timber stood separately as the only things in the cavernous room. The rustic columns went all the way up to support thirty-foot-high ceilings.

The second floor was visible from below, as half of the loft had a massive upstairs bedroom that looked down onto—and over—the main living space. The best feature was a staircase that seemed to float from the wall, with the steps individually attached to the brick interior with no other support; a bolted-to-the-wall handrail added the safety component.

I envisioned barn-house chic, with large pieces of wooden furniture and metal aspects for my interior design. Authentic older pieces, without seeming like grandma’s antiques, were what I wanted. I imagined a massive bed in the middle of the upstairs bedroom where seating areas would surround it and make the bedroom a place you’d want to read or enjoy your morning coffee.

The loft had quite large windows with the original metal framework. A huge ceiling fan, with eight-foot blades, hung in the center of the unit, giving the loft another dimension of industrial style. I couldn’t wait to start shopping.

* * *

“I loved it, Mom. Absolutely perfect for me,” I said, lying back on the bed of the long-term stay hotel I’d rented. “Big for a two-bedroom, too. The second bedroom will make a terrific office or guest room. I haven’t decided yet,” I added.

“And where exactly will your father and I stay if you create an office out of the spare bedroom, dear?” she asked.

“In a hotel like you always do,” I replied, knowing damn well that my homophobic father would never agree to stay with me whether I had a partner or was single for the rest of my life. He’d hated staying with Thomas and me even when we had ten thousand square feet of space and a detached guest house.

“And what if I come alone?”

“If that ever happens, you can stay in my spaceship, Mom,” I joked. “You never go anywhere without Dad.”

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