Inside? Well, if it was half as impressive as the outside, I was sold. Like Damon’s former home, the house was built of a combination of stone and wood, with several chimneys rising above the steeply pitched roof. On the drive over, Connor had told me the property was just a hair over three acres. I had a hard time computing that; lots in Jerome, even for the larger houses, weren’t very big. What I could see was that the rolling curves of the property were bounded in sturdy stone walls, and ponderosa pines and other evergreens dotted the landscape, clustering around the house, making it feel like something tucked away in an enchanted forest. And, in what seemed an utter extravagance to me, the four-car garage was detached and sat some distance away from the house, with a covered wooden walkway joining the two buildings.
Gawking at the place, I’d fallen a little behind the other two, so I hurried to catch up, even as Lucas was entering the code into the lockbox on the door. I wondered if he had the same talent with locks as Connor and I, and whether he was using the code to be polite.
But then I followed the two of them inside, and I stopped wondering about the locks.
“Holy crap.”
“You said that already,” Connor pointed out with a grin. “So good, so far?”
I could only nod dumbly. Now, Damon’s house had been very impressive, and this place shared some of the same architectural features — huge windows that let in a view of the forest and impossibly blue skies, a stone fireplace that stretched all the way to the ceiling, shining wood floors. But when I’d been at Damon’s, I couldn’t allow myself to like it, because it had been his. Whereas this house….
This house could be mine, if I wanted it.
Granite kitchen counters. Thermidor appliances. A separate refrigerator for wine. A second fireplace in the family room, and yet another in the master bedroom. Spotting it, Connor sent me a significant glance, and I grinned back at him. Never mind that we were heading into the time of year where you really didn’t need a fireplace — it was still something that was important to us.
And I couldn’t find fault with the furniture, either. Nothing stuffy or overdone, or too kitschily Southwest, or anything like that. Big and solid, the dining room table with a top of what looked like solid copper, the couches and chairs covered in warm brown leather, contrasting with the reds and beiges and soft, dusty turquoise blues of the Navajo rugs on the floor.
In a daze, I trailed after Connor and Lucas as we returned to the kitchen. There were flyers from the realtor sitting on the granite-topped island. Price reduced! Prime property in Forest Highlands! I barely glanced at them, since the two men were watching me expectantly.
“Well?” Lucas said at last.
“It’s — it’s incredible,” I replied, glad to see Connor nodding. We hadn’t spoken much as we followed Lucas from room to room, preferring to remain silent so we could let the other person form their own judgments.
As I spoke, I noticed that Connor relaxed slightly, as if he’d been waiting to hear what I had to say. “Yeah, it is pretty amazing. And tons of room.”
That was for sure. The place had five bedrooms and was more than four thousand square feet. Plenty of room for the twins, and whoever might come after that.
Assuming there would be any more after that, of course.
“I should’ve shown you the garage, too,” Lucas said. “It was built with two stories, and although Dave is using the upper level for storage right now, it has lots of windows. It would make a great studio for you, Connor.”
Who was silent, considering…although what he had to consider, I wasn’t sure. The house couldn’t have been much better, frankly. I felt a pang as I thought of the big Victorian back in Jerome, one wall knocked out, the counters and cabinets already demo’d. Buying this place felt like an abandonment, although I knew that wasn’t true. Connor had already made a comment about splitting time between the two locations. Summer here and winter in Jerome? It wasn’t quite living the bicoastal lifestyle, but it seemed like a reasonable compromise to me.
Finally he said, “Are you sure you want to do this, Angela? I don’t want you to feel as if you’re being rushed or pressured.”
“I’m not,” I said at once. “I mean, yes, this is happening sort of fast, but I’ve always thought if the right opportunity comes up, you should go for it. And this place…it feels right. Quiet and sheltered. The trees are amazing. And I love that the one bedroom already has bunk beds in it. It’ll be perfect for the twins.”
The word just sort of popped out. I hadn’t really intended to say anything about it, as Connor and I were still keeping that piece of news under wraps.