By the time she’d showered, dressed and gone downstairs, a summer storm had come up and she dodged raindrops retrieving the paper. Back inside, she put coffee on, pulled out a frozen coffee cake and a container of raspberries, seeded and sliced a cantaloupe. From her new iPod Pink Martini’s “Everywhere” started playing as she was getting mugs down prompting her to sing along.
“You’re happy this morning,” Tony said, coming down the steps, dressed for work.
“It’s a beautiful day.” She got plates from the cabinet and silverware from the drawer as she talked.
He stopped her from bustling by taking her in his arms. “It’s raining, Margo.”
“I’ve learned to like rain since I moved to Portland.”
“Ah, that must be it. Couldn’t be anything else, could it?” The timer on the microwave buzzed and she broke free of his arms to take the coffee cake out. “So, no answer to that question. Change the subject. Got it.” He looked around the living room. “I didn’t pay attention to much of your house last night. I like it.”
She kept her eyes on the plate she was putting on the table. “We didn’t spend a whole lot of time downstairs, did we?”
“All I noticed was that it looks like a little house in the woods floating on the water.”
“That’s exactly why I fell in love with it the first time I saw it.”
He scanned the downstairs. A couch covered in a floral print, reading lamps at both ends and soft throws tossed over the back, and two chairs upholstered in a deep red fabric made up the living area. The dining table had four un-matched chairs around it upholstered in the same red as their bigger relatives in the living room. On the walls were hand-woven hangings, on the floor, vivid Persian-style carpets. Floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with books filled one end of the room and a wood-burning, freestanding stove provided warmth when needed in a kitchen that featured open shelves piled with handmade pottery dishes.
“After your calm, uncluttered apartment, this must look like the back room of a Goodwill to you,” she said.
He laughed. “No, it’s comfortable, like a nest. It feels like you belong here.”
“There’s a guest room back there — ” she nodded her head toward a hall near the stairway, “ — and a small guest bath. Upstairs is my office as well as a deck with a view of the river and the interstate bridge.”
He poured two cups of coffee, added milk to one he then handed to her. “I was out on the deck before I came downstairs. Who’s the old guy next door? He was watching me pretty close.”
“That’s Mr. Todd. He takes it as his responsibility to look out for me. Tomorrow, before we go to the Gorge, I’ll introduce you. In the meantime,” she put a platter of raspberries and cantaloupe on the table with the coffee cake, “is this enough breakfast for you? I have some juice, too, and may be able to scare up some cereal but … ”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to fuss over me.”
“I want to. I like having you here.”
He cut a piece of coffee cake and put it on a plate for her. “Good. Because I like being here.”
• • •
Saturday morning after breakfast, Margo led Tony down to the end of the dock to show off her river. He stood behind her, his arms around her, as she waxed eloquent on the advantages of living on the water.