Page 25 of Threads of Kindness
“No,” Sunday replied. “It would seem like we’re gate-crashing. Let’s drive around the block to the Olsson House and park there. I love that street. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of Christmas lights to look at, and we can walk the dogs without them getting distracted by partygoers.”
“Good thinking,” Josh said as he turned the corner and made his way to the middle of the block, pulling to a stop in front of the Olsson House.
They got out of the car and paused at the curb, taking in the grandeur of the Olsson House. It was bathed in soft white lights and adorned with a garland-wrapped railing and bows of burgundy velvet.
“What a beauty,” Sunday said softly.
“That it is,” Josh agreed. “Would you like to own a home like this one day?”
Sunday stepped forward and tilted her head as she admired the Victorian mansion. “Living in a beautiful old home is a dream of mine, but, with our librarian and nonprofit administrator salaries, it’s not likely. And that’s perfectly fine with me. I’m sure we’ll find something we both love—and can afford.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Josh said. “I’d hate to think you’d be pining your whole life for something you’d never own.”
“I already have the most important thing in life—a loving and kind partner,” she said, turning her gaze to him. “The rest doesn’t matter.”
They turned away from the Olsson House and walked along the street, the dogs trotting contentedly at their heels as they admired the twinkling Christmas decorations on the homes they passed.
“Do you want to cross and walk back on the other side of the street?” Josh asked.
Sunday nodded, and she and Cara led the way. The houses on this side were two-and three-story red brick structures with intricate trim and architectural detailing that reflected the grandeur of their original owners—all except one of them.
A few houses down and across the street from the Olsson House sat a one-story structure with a warm stone exterior. The steeply pitched roof culminated in a dramatic point. An arched front door with a speakeasy window and a large, diamond-paned window were nestled below the peak. Twin chimneys rose from either side of the sharply slanted roof.
Sunday slowed her pace as they approached. “I can’t see how far back this house goes, but it looks much smaller than the others on the street.”
“Someone could have torn down one of the big ones and replaced it with this,” Josh suggested.
Sunday stopped where a curving brick walkway met the sidewalk. She studied the roofline and the craftsmanship around the window and door. “I don’t think so. This all seems authentic to the period. They simply built this house smaller than the rest.”
“Maybe the person who owned the lot didn’t have enough money to build a mansion,” Josh said.
“That’s possible,” Sunday replied. “Or it was built as a mother-in-law suite. Who knows? If I owned it, I’d research to find the answer.”
Josh slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close as they both stared at the house.
“There aren’t any Christmas lights on it,” he noted. “They may not celebrate Christmas, of course, but the snow hasn’t been plowed off the driveway or the walkway. Do you suppose it’s vacant?”
Sunday shrugged. “That’s possible.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, and they leaned into each other.
The dogs sat obediently, waiting for their people to finish taking in the scene.
“Would you be happy living in a house like this?” Josh asked.
Sunday nodded without hesitation. “I love the house where you proposed. And the mansions on this street. But for all their grandeur,” she said, glancing up and down the street, “this one has a warmth and coziness to it that’s … compelling.” She inhaled deeply and smiled up at him. “It’s almost like theThere Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoehouse” she said. “Do you know that Mother Goose book?”
Josh laughed. “Of course I do. What kidhasn’theard that story?” He grinned. “It makes sense thatmyfavorite librarian would describe a house with a literary reference.”
“I’m glad you understand me so well,” Sunday said, her voice full of affection.
Cheering and whistling reached them from the next street over. A few small fireworks exploded in bright sparks against the night sky.
“It must be midnight,” Josh said, turning to face her.
Sunday tilted her head back and lifted her chin. “Happy New Year, darling. The only thing I need for the home of my dreams isyou.”
Josh brought his lips to hers.
She slid her arms up his back to his shoulders, and he held her close as they welcomed the new year together, under the stars.
