“That’s okay. I’ll pick something up. Thanks, though. Oh, and when you share the Pierce and Rebecca gossip with everyone, do me a favor and make me look good. Tell them I’m playing hard to get, going down kicking and screaming.”
“Well, are you?”
He pictured a smirk on her face. “Not even close.”
Chapter Ten
REBECCA PULLED UP in front of Daphne’s house wearing the smile that had been plastered on her face for the entire day. She’d texted Pierce before leaving to follow Daphne home, and they‘d made plans to meet at his place later that evening. She had wondered if three nights in her car would turn into three years and if she were just fooling herself into believing that she’d find a way back to a more livable home. She could hardly believe she’d gotten lucky enough to find a place to live so quickly, and an affordable one at that. It would have taken her forever to afford a place to live while working for ten dollars an hour at the bar. Luckily, she’d saved every penny she’d earned before quitting, and Daphne had wanted only the first month’s rent and a security deposit of half of a month’s rent, which left Rebecca with a little cash in her pocket, and she’d also be earning enough to pay Mr. Fralin, as promised.
She stepped from the car and surveyed the quaint brick rambler. The house was fairly benign, with three average-sized windows and a black front door. The front yard was small but neatly manicured, and it would have blended in with the other ramblers on the street if not for the lovely maple tree that stood tall and full just to the left of the driveway.
Daphne flung her arms into the air. “Welcome to our humble abode.”
“It’s really nice.” Daphne had been a big help to her throughout the morning, giving her tips on which regular customers were pickier than others, and when she’d seen Rebecca texting Pierce at the end of their shift, Daphne had thrown her arm over her shoulder as if they’d known each other forever and peeked at the message. Sexting your boyfriend? she’d joked. Rebecca had felt her cheeks flush at the comment. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in years, and when she was caring for her mother, sex had been the farthest thing from her mind. And before that, sex had been vanilla, whereas making love with Pierce was spicy as a jalapeño pepper, and since they’d come together, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. The comment had made her contemplate the idea of sexting, which she quickly dismissed. She could be all that behind closed doors, but the idea of putting something so intimate in a text, where anyone could get ahold of it? No way.
The house smelled fresh, as if someone had just cleaned. The front door opened to a narrow foyer with aged hardwood floors.
“Daph, that you?” A deep voice came from down the hall, followed by a gray-haired man with a paunch belly.
Daphne kissed him on the cheek. “Henry, this is Rebecca. Rebecca, this is my Henry.”
He had serious dark gray eyes, and at the moment they were darting between Daphne and Rebecca as he wiped his hands on a dish towel that was slung over his shoulder.
“Rebecca Rivera, nice to meet you.” She reached a hand out in greeting.
“Yes, Daphne told me you were interested in renting a room.” He pressed his lips together.
“Thank you for giving me the opportunity. I really appreciate it.”
Henry looked her up and down. “You’re welcome, but we won’t have any partying or men in and out of the bedroom.”
“No, sir. I’m not like that. I’m two classes away from a business degree, and once I save enough money to take the last of my classes, I’ll be studying in my free time.” She shot a look at Daphne, hoping he wasn’t going to change his mind about the room and wondering why he seemed unfriendly when Daphne was one of the friendliest people she knew.
He nodded. “I’ll let you and Daph get settled, then. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Daphne opened the foyer closet door. “Feel free to hang your coats, keep boots or shoes, whatever you want, in there.” As soon as Henry was out of earshot, she leaned in close and whispered, “He’s a little embarrassed by this, but he’s really an old softie. He’ll warm to you quickly. I promise.”
I hope so. She let out a relieved sigh. She could relate to his discomfort, especially at his age. It was one thing to lose a job in your twenties, but in your sixties, she didn’t imagine that there were many places hiring people of retiring age.
She followed Daphne down the hall. Daphne waved her hand toward a step-down living room to their left. “Living room. Just keep it clean in case you have your sexting boyfriend over.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Tsk. I don’t sext. I’m not even sure I’d know how.”
“I’m teasing, hon. I wouldn’t have offered the room if you’d come across as a loose type of woman. I’ve been watching you. You’re very serious, and you handle the customers with finesse. Cool and confident.”
Cool and confident. Rebecca liked that. She followed Daphne through the living room, up one step to a dining room, and through a doorway to a cozy, wood-paneled den. She could see herself curled up on the sofa beneath the reading lamp, studying.
“This is great.”
“This room is very soothing. It’s Henry’s favorite room in the house. Come on. I’ll show you the kitchen and your room.”
She followed her through the dining room to a comfortable kitchen. Light wood cabinets hung from the walls, and white appliances were tucked efficiently into Formica countertops. There was a table for four in the corner of the room. Daphne opened a pantry on the far wall.
“Food.” She swung open another door. “Basement.”
Rebecca was glad to see the house was orderly. She and her mother had always kept a neat house, save for the rogue pair of shoes or magazines that seemed to have minds of their own. They walked down a hall lined with photographs of Daphne and Henry. Rebecca noticed that there were no photographs of children, and she wondered if that was by choice.
She couldn’t wait to put out pictures of her mother in her room. She missed seeing her, and the photos helped. She rubbed the ring on her index finger, thinking of how much she and her mother would have loved living in a little house such as this one. They’d always lived in apartments, and it was Rebecca’s dream to one day own a small house of her own.
“And this is your room.” Daphne opened the door to a moderately sized bedroom. There was a double bed against the far wall, across from a tall, dark wood dresser. Bedside tables graced both sides of the bed, and light spilled in through a double window that faced the backyard. Daphne opened another door. “And your bathroom.”
“This is perfect.” Rebecca sat on the bed. It was soft and bouncy. She didn’t mind that she’d be sharing the house with Daphne and Henry. She didn’t care that she might have to share in the yard work, and of course, the housework. She had a new friend and a home to sleep in, and that was enough to make her feel blessed. And, most important, she’d done it on her own.
And I have Pierce. She smiled at the thought.
“Daphne, I can’t thank you enough.”
“You’re helping us as much as we’re helping you. Do you want me to help you bring some stuff in?”
They unpacked Rebecca’s car, and she went to work putting her clothes away and making her room feel like home. She took the top off of the last box she had to unpack, the most important box, and withdrew three framed photographs. She held one in her hands and sat on the bed, relishing in the image of her mother at eighteen, holding her when she was just an infant. Her mother had been beautiful before she’d gotten sick. She and Rebecca shared the same big eyes and high cheekbones, and before her illness had sucked the color from her skin and the luster from her hair, her mother’s skin had been a shade darker than Rebecca’s and her hair had been shiny with fashionable natural curls. Rebecca studied her mother’s face in the photo. While Rebecca must have gotten her pointy chin from her father, her mouth was all Rivera.
I miss you, Mom. I think you’d like it here. She ran her finger over the picture and then set it on the dresser and wondered what Pierce would think of her room. Would he think it odd that a twenty-seven-year old woman didn’t have her own place, or would he not care at all? He didn’t seem to flash his wealth, and she was glad for that. If he had, she probably wouldn’t have given him the time of day.
And now she couldn’t imagine a day without him.
She set the other two photographs of her and her mother on the dresser beside the first, and then she withdrew a wooden box that she’d painted in second grade and given to her mother as a Mother’s Day gift. Hand-painted red flowers with blue leaves that only a mother could love adorned the top and sides of the box. She lifted the lid and smiled at the sight of the photograph, cracked with age and glued to the inside of the lid. Her lips were smushed against her mother’s cheek, her eyes closed. Her mother’s cheeks held the color of joy—and life. She’d taught Rebecca so much in what now seemed like such a short period of time. To be confident, enjoy life, and that there was nothing she couldn’t achieve if she put her mind to it. Her mother had been good at dropping lessons like others dropped names, but perhaps the most important lesson Rebecca learned from her mother was the one that went unsaid.