Page 20 of Ella Gets the D
“Relax, dear.” She gives my hand a shake. “I only ask to see how far I’ll need to travel to visit.”
My breath catches in my throat. Hell hath no fury like a grandmother kept away from her grandkids. I would never do it intentionally, but her son might force my hand. “You won’t have to travel far. We’re moving to Georgetown.”
Her head tilts to examine the single mom of two with no job in sight who’s about to relocate to the nation’s capital. The question of how is in her eyes, but she resists an inquisition.
I give her enough to satisfy her curiosity. “An opportunity presented itself. One I couldn’t refuse.”
She nods. “I take it the rent is affordable?”
Try free.
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.” Her smile crinkles her eyes. “When do you move?”
“Soon. I have the keys and plan to swing by today.”
“Well.” She touches her throat and turns to look at the kids. They’re in the kitchen at a small table with tissue paper and glue, covering the birdhouse they made out of a milk carton. Katharine is full of surprises that often come in the form of crafts she found online.
“This is all so sudden.” Her voice quavers with a sadness she tries to mask. “I hope things between us don’t change.”
Charles might be her only child, but she’s always treated me like her daughter. “Thank you.”
Her son won’t let this divorce happen without a battle. I need every ally I can get.
“This place…” Jackson blows out a breath. “Is amazing!” He spins in a circle—for the fourth time in the last five minutes—and takes off for the staircase in front of us. If an exposed brick wall makes a six-year-old giddy, God knows what else he’ll flip over in this house.
“No running!” I call to my son, who scurries up the steps with the grace of a rhino.
He whips around at the top in his socks to salute me, shooting my heart through my throat in the process. This kid is clueless about safety. “You got it, Mom,” he says with a wave and rushes down the hall.
“Guess it’s you and me,” I say into Haile’s curls. She giggles and gives me a pat on the leg to tone it down. My sweet girl is growing too fast. She still has the same little nose and curved brows as the day we brought her home swaddled in a hospital blanket, but now she’s too big to carry.
We’re still in the hallway that feeds into the living room. A black accent wall, the same color as the front door, holds a library of books and vinyl records on recessed shelves. A rectangular mirror anchors the center, reflecting the remainder of the open space. Soft burnt-sienna sofas sit in front of an oversized black trunk for a coffee table, and a cream rug covers most of the chestnut wood flooring.
“It’s pretty, Mama,” Haile says through an appreciative sigh. She’s four going on thirty and has an eye for design that gets Morgan giddy. The two spend hours taking in art at museums or staring at samples for the Brooke family business. The kid knows her mid-century lighting like herSesame Streetcharacters.
“Yes it is, baby.”
Cedar and sandalwood scent the air in an invitation to submerge into our new home.
Unlike the fancy dungeon we left, no part of this home screamsLook but don’t touch. It’s huge for a townhouse, not that I’ve seen many. I counted four floors based on the windows. We don’t have much, but we do have the space to start fresh.
There’s an allure that calls to me, enticing me to recharge with some scotch from the decanter and one of the Duke Ellington records on the shelves.
This is our safe place to laugh without judgment and decorate for every holiday. It’s the space to be myself.
Haile and I cross to the kitchen, which is a strip of white cabinets and counters and a white island across from a wall of windows and a black door. Cooking isn’t my strong suit, but I’ll give it a try with this fancy stove, farmhouse sink, and enough counter space to reenactChopped.
Upstairs is just as beautiful as the main floor, with a collage of modern art lining the cream walls illuminated by a skylight in the hall.
Jackson lies across the top bunk bed in a slate blue bedroom, consumed by his tablet, which is likely playing yet another Minecraft video on YouTube. There’s a nightstand and an oversized bean bag between two windows. Whoever designed this room had children in mind. Who else could enjoy the mini rock climbing wall and ball pit?
At least I’ll save money on furniture until we move to wherever it is we’ll go. This will do just fine until then. Morgan went above and beyond.
I gasp at the home office, which is styled straight out of a Restoration Hardware catalog. A series of black oak glass-door cabinets are behind a wood-and-cast-iron drafting table. Two metal pendant lights suspended from the ceiling hover feet above the smooth surface.
“Mommy, I found your room!” I follow my daughter’s squeal to the end of the hall, past the bathroom and a series of doors. The main bedroom is a corner room through two doors of its own with panel walls dipped in charcoal gray above oak floors. A large bed sits against the wall with a headboard of oversized pillows in taupes and grays that coordinate with a linen duvet and matching sheets. There’s enough room for a mini daybed for Haile. She could take the other bed in the second bedroom, but she likes to stay close.
