Page 26 of Threads of Kindness
CHAPTER 12
The movie credits rolled. Jeff scooted to the edge of the sofa and picked up the almost-empty popcorn bowl. He held it out to Judy. “Want any more of this?”
Judy shook her head.
“Should I save the rest?”
“No,” she said, standing up and stretching. “It’s never good leftover. We’ll make more the next time we want popcorn.”
“It’s almost midnight,” Jeff said as he headed toward the kitchen with the bowl. “We timed things well.”
Judy collected their soda cups and followed him. “Let’s leave this on the counter until morning,” she said. “I’d love to go upstairs.”
“I’m ready to turn in,” he replied, “but don’t you want to ring in the New Year?”
“I meant let’s go up to the third-floor turret room. Maybe we can see the fireworks from The Mill because of that high vantage point.”
“The Mill is at least fifteen miles from here, isn’t it?”
“Something like that,” Judy said. “I know it’s unlikely, but I’d like to find out. Growing up across the street, I used to wonderwhether you could spot them from this turret. On a clear day, parts of the Shawnee River by The Mill are visible.”
“Let’s find out,” Jeff said, placing the bowl beside the soda cups.
Jeff and Judy climbed the wide, gracious staircase to the second floor. They walked past six bedrooms to the plain door that concealed a narrow flight of stairs leading to the third floor. Jeff flipped the switch, and a bare overhead bulb lit their way.
They climbed the stairs and stepped into the round room, fitted with generous leaded-glass windows on every side. The only furniture was a circular, wrought-iron bench.
“It’s almost a full moon,” Jeff said. “There’s plenty of light in here. Want me to switch off the stairway light?”
“Yes, please,” Judy said. “It’ll be easier to see the outside if it’s dark in here.”
Jeff flipped the switch at the top of the stairs to turn off the bulb.
Judy moved to the windows overlooking the front and right side of the house. “I think The Mill is this way,” she said, pointing into the distance.
“That would be my guess,” Jeff agreed. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled Judy’s back against his chest, looking over the top of her head at the quiet scene below.
“It’s really pretty from up here, isn’t it?” Judy asked. “All the twinkling lights along the street … it’s like these old houses have dressed for dinner.”
Jeff chuckled. “That’s a good way to put it. It’s impressive, that’s for sure.”
Judy snuggled into his arms, and they stood in silence, soaking in the beauty of the night.
“Won’t be long now,” Jeff said, twisting his wrist to look at his watch. “It’s ten minutes until twelve.”
“I should’ve put Christmas lights on my old house,” Judy said, glancing across the street. “It sticks out like a sore thumb.”
“You were busy with the store, and we were getting ready for the Christmas potluck,” Jeff said. “I never thought about it. We’ll put lights on it next year—if you still own it.”
“I’m not ready to sell it. Not yet,” Judy said. “I know it’s silly, and I’ll never live there again, but that house has been in my family for three generations. I hate the thought of selling it to someone who’ll park a dumpster in the yard the minute they close escrow and start ripping out the beautiful old woodwork and trim. I won’t allow the charm to be stripped from my beloved little house, only to become some soulless, clean-lined, modern monstrosity.”
“My goodness,” Jeff teased gently. “Tell me how youreallyfeel.”
She turned her head toward him, and he kissed her forehead.
“I understand,” he said gently. “It would be a shame to force a modern vibe onto that very traditional house. But when you sell it, the buyers have the right to make it their own. You’ll have to come to terms with that.”
“If I could find someone who loves it the way I do, I might be okay with selling it. I’d love the new owners to be a young couple, just starting out. It was my grandparents’ first home—first and only, actually. They raised five children in that house. Nobodyneedsto change it.”
