“And the former owner passed away?” I looked at the closed door. “Recently?”
Maggie’s features softened as if she understood my reticence. “No worries, lass. The spirit of the last owner passed on in peace. I have it on good authority. The space is full of goodness and nothin’ else. If you e’er decide to turn the key and step in, you’ll see. It’s been made ready for you.”
I was half decided that I was going to look and leave, but I’d come too far to go home without looking around and, at least, having the Q and A dinner. With Lochlan, the solicitor.
Holding up the key that I thought she’d said opened the door, I ventured, “This one?”
“You know. On second thought. Perhaps you’d rather begin with a front door entry. Let’s go ‘round the buildin’ and come in through the front. Personally, I do no’ put much stock in Eastern mysticism, but there’re some things about Feng Shui…”
She left that thought unfinished, but I took her meaning. “Well, if you…”
“Sure then. Do no’ know why I did no’ think of it sooner. Come along. We’ll walk ‘round.”
As we locked the shop door from the outside this time, I found myself wishing I could be both as decisive and sure of myself as Maggie.
The walk was short. We arrived at a green door set in the stone facing of the two-story building. There were two large casement windows accessorized by window boxes with blooming flowers. And I had to admit it was a warm and welcoming touch. The number on the door was 18.
Maggie pointed across the street. “Your garage is just there. No need for garages when the house was built you know. You might say ‘twas an afterthought.”
I nodded.
Maggie stood waiting patiently for me to remember I was holding the keys. “Oh. I have the key.” I laughed nervously. “Sorry.”
“No need for sayin’ sorries. I’m sure the circumstance would have most people feelin’ upside down.”
I turned the key and opened the door, half expecting some horrible odor, must or incense or mothballs, to send me running. There was no smell. Just the way I like it and an auspiciously good sign. So I swung the door open all the way.
The sight that greeted me couldn’t be described in any way except by one simple word. Perfect.
I’m not particularly imaginative or creative, but if I was, I’m sure the townhouse living room would be what I’d choose. Down to the smallest detail. The walls and floors were light. The fireplace was blackened with two hundred years of history and cheery fires. The furniture was covered in English floral prints that, while perhaps not in style, were pretty, homey, and welcoming. On the far wall there was an elegant French writing desk facing out toward a small garden.
I stepped in and turned in a circle. Again, I’m not especially intuitive or sensitive to energy, but the house had a vibe that could only be described as good.
“This is…” I started, while Maggie closed the door.
“Is?” she asked me to finish.
“Lovely.” It was whispered almost reverently.
“Well,” she chuckled. “Should be. ‘Twas done just for you.”
“You mean the decorating?”
“Oh aye. Everythin’.”
“But how could you know what I’d like?”
She ignored the question. “Kitchen’s over there.” She pointed. “There’s no formal dinin’, but the table is plenty big for company.”
I was pulled in the direction of the kitchen like it was a magnet. Again, it was a dream. Old-world brick and stone with modern appliances and a wood-fired brick oven. As she’d said, a large rectangular table sat in the middle of the room that could double as an island.
“I’ll let you go explorin’ upstairs on your own.” She checked her watch. “Take your time. When you’re done lookin’, you can spend the day gettin’ settled in, look ‘round the village, or have a nice toes-up. We’re due at Lochlan’s at six fifteen.”
“Alright. How far is, um, Lochlan’s?”
“Three minutes afoot. Maybe four on a wet day. If you need anythin’ at all, you can go right through there to the shop.”
Following her line of vision, I saw that the arched shop door was at the end of a short hall off the kitchen, just past the pantry on one side and the ‘powder room’ on the other.
“Thank you, Maggie.”
“No need to thank me. I’m just the help. I’ll mind the store until you tell me to do somethin’ else. Now there’s a deadbolt on the shop door you can lock from inside when you’re home. For privacy, you know.”
Hearing the door close, I took a deep breath. It was very quiet, but not in a bad way. I did lock the deadbolt on the shop door before slowly walking the kitchen, trying it on for size. I ran my fingertips over the shiny new commercial appliances that included a fully stocked wine column – a luxury I’d never imagined owning, admired the copper sink and looked around for the way into the small garden that could also be viewed from the kitchen window.
Access was just off the living room in a small alcove at the base of the stairs. Go right up the stairs or left to the garden. I chose garden first. It was surrounded by stone walls on four sides, which gave it a feeling of safety and security. An overhang formed shelter for a small patio that would allow for sitting outside even on rainy days. The centerpiece of the little courtyard was an blood orange tree with dark glossy leaves and fruit the color of persimmons. My first thought was to think it might be my new favorite place on earth.
My second thought was to wonder how they’d managed to bring oranges to ready-to-pick stage at that time of year. The process was a mystery, but I was in love with the result.
I don’t know how long I sat in the garden, admiring the blooms and trailing vines in large planters and pots, or how long I spent reflecting on my life thus far, but I know the time was well spent because, by the time I was motivated to continue exploring, my spirit felt restored. Maybe not to pre-marriage. But somewhat.
Baby steps.
Dog.
I’d always loved dogs. Always wanted one as an adult, but my ex wasn’t an ‘animal person’.
What if I’d stumbled into a pot of happiness at the end of a rainbow?
On reentering the house, I once again noticed the writing desk that faced the garden and thought how nice it would be to enjoy that view when on my laptop. I went directly upstairs to find a space that was easily three times as large as the downstairs. It was, apparently, above both the living room, kitchen, and store.
The master bedroom was enormous with a fireplace that shared a chimney with the living room below. Light, bright and outfitted with furniture covered in real handmade crewel. The kind that comes from India and sells for two hundred dollars a yard. I know because I’d lovingly caressed it in the fabric store a few dozen times, certain I’d never own anything so extravagant.
I snorted when an image of Romeo came to mind.
The adjoining bath was large and luxurious, outfitted with odd, but modern fixtures. The rest of the space was comprised of two rooms and another less dramatic bath. I supposed that, if I stayed, my daughter might occupy one of the rooms from time to time.
Though I’d spent an hour imagining myself in that house, I was surprised to hear myself think, if I stay.