Page 70 of Unhurried Hearts

“I know.” I grin. “Painting. Sanding. Oh, and demo will be fun.”

“Chris. You’ve already got me hiking and camping. Do I really need to take on another hobby?”

“Oh, I bet you’ll be cute as fuck in a hardhat.”

She rolls her eyes at me, but I can’t help the excitement that is practically pouring off me.

“Come on,” she says, striding toward the steep staircase that leads up to the back deck. She calls over her shoulder, the wind delivering her voice. “Show me our fixer-upper.”

Epilogue: Anna

The back stairs creak ominously over the crash of the waves behind us. I step around a less-than-promising plank near the weathered back door. If you look beyond the shutter that’s falling off and the tarp that’s pinned down over a section of the roof, you can see the charm of this seaside house. Kind of.

“How much did this cost?” I ask while Chris pretends he’s not having trouble unlocking the door.

He ignores me. “Got it!”

The creak that the door makes when it swings open is laughable. It could be part of a Halloween soundtrack.

“I can hear you judging it.”

“I’m cautiouslyoptimistic.”

We start in the kitchen which overlooks the ocean. The sink at my condo faces an electrical outlet and a cupboard door. I expected it to be really dirty inside, but the house is well sealed and it’s obviously not been empty for that long.

“Okay, I’m breathing better now.”

“See? Would I make a bad investment?”

No. Isaac and Chris know what they’re talking about when it comes to choosing a house with good bones. They see something in this space that the ordinary person would overlook.

“So, it has three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The basement is totally unfinished but dry. Don’t go down there.”

“Ominous,” I say, peeking inside a closet.

“It’s dark.”

“I can start a fire down there.”

“Hilarious. What? Are you keeping a firestarter in your purse now?”

“May as well. I usually have underwear in there too.”

We laugh at the memories.

“Come on. It’s getting dark and there’s no power yet. Want to show you upstairs.”

I follow him up the stairwell where the outlines of old artwork show on the walls. Excitement shoots through meas I think of hanging up our own things. I’ve never lived in a place that needed renovations. I went from living at home, to living in rentals, to buying my new construction studio.

“Two bedrooms down that way, they’re underneath the area of the roof that’s failing so they need to be gutted. Main bedroom is this way.” He interlocks his fingers with mine.

There’s only one window at the far end of the hall.

“Since the roof will be redone, I’m thinking we do skylights.”

Because the hall is rapidly losing light, my eyes are drawn to a soft glow beneath the shut door. Maybe that room has nice big windows facing the ocean.

This door doesn’t creak when I open it. The light, I notice, has nothing to do with a window.

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