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Authors: Catherine Mann, Joanne Rock
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posted a message on social media about her trip out West to throw them off the scent, posting from a phone with no location tracking. Let them think she was on an extended road trip.
She needed privacy if she stood a chance of unearthing answers about her screwed-up choices. Answers she craved more than a bottomless bowl of butter pecan ice cream.
With a sigh, Annamae hefted the first box out of the Beetle, closing the red door with a swish of her hip.
She surveyed the carriage house silhouetted in the fading sun. In this softening light, the old building seemed inviting, the imperfections of a droopy shutter and faded paint looking artsy rather than run down. It didn’t hold the glamor of her townhome of Atlanta, but the distressed wood and stone was homey, a good kind of worn-in. Like the Beetle. Simple. And God, she could use something simple as she sorted out her far too complicated life.
Annamae stepped around an overturned wheelbarrow with wildflowers sprouting out as she entered through the side entrance again. The wood door squeaked open and the house was awash in darkness. Bagel bounded inside, undaunted by the lack of light, nails clicking against the wood floor, then quieting as he went airborne toward the fuzzy shape of what she hoped was a sofa. Balancing the box in one hand, she fumbled on the wall for the light switch.
The light flickered before stabilizing. Annamae pushed deeper into the living area, past the loveseat and coffee table and set her box down on the stretch of a sturdy bench that lined the back wall. The stately dark wood bench parked against stone walls made the carriage house seem like it had waltzed out of a fairytale. A few talking animals would complete the image.
“What do you think, Bagel?” Annamae cooed. The scruffy mutt wriggled his whole body but didn’t utter a sound. Still, he was clearly adjusting well.
“Let’s take a look around, buddy.” She scooped him into her arms, his wiry fur tickly against her skin.
Room by room, Annamae flipped on lights, gauging her new space. She walked up the stairs to the loft bedroom. Sparse, but functional.
A full size bed was angled in one corner, and a single dresser with a mirror in the other. The wood floor squeaked as she circled the huge, open space. The bedroom sported a large, arched window that overlooked the majority of the apple orchard. The view would be beautiful at dawn. Part of her ached that she was here alone, so detached from everything she had ever known. No one to share the beauty with.
But a larger part of her was excited at the potential this place offered. There were no cameras, no faces she needed to wear.
She set Bagel down on the bed and he wiggled across the quilt over to the window. He stared outside, brown eyes alert.
“Are you going to be my tough guard dog?” Annamae laughed from the doorway. Bagel cocked his head to the side.
“We’re going to be just fine here,” she said.
Turning the light off, Annamae climbed back down the rustic steps, Bagel close at her heels. She retrieved the final box from her car and made her way into the circa 1950s kitchen, complete with mint green cabinets and a black checkerboard tile floor.
She set the groceries on the red vinyl-topped table and started unloading. Peanut butter, a loaf of bread, crackers, and some cans of soup. No ice cream though. That would be one of her first purchases tomorrow once she was very sure the freezer worked well. She emptied the rest onto the table. A wrought iron chandelier of exposed lights bathed the room in a warm, yellow glow.
It would take some getting used to, all this…possibility. A new dog, a new town. A new life. One she was completely in control of. And, a new man, maybe. Annamae’s cheeks heated. She had only just called off her wedding.
And yet, she couldn’t deny the electric feeling of being in Heath’s presence. It was like being outside before a Southern summer storm struck. The air crackled with
She needed privacy if she stood a chance of unearthing answers about her screwed-up choices. Answers she craved more than a bottomless bowl of butter pecan ice cream.
With a sigh, Annamae hefted the first box out of the Beetle, closing the red door with a swish of her hip.
She surveyed the carriage house silhouetted in the fading sun. In this softening light, the old building seemed inviting, the imperfections of a droopy shutter and faded paint looking artsy rather than run down. It didn’t hold the glamor of her townhome of Atlanta, but the distressed wood and stone was homey, a good kind of worn-in. Like the Beetle. Simple. And God, she could use something simple as she sorted out her far too complicated life.
Annamae stepped around an overturned wheelbarrow with wildflowers sprouting out as she entered through the side entrance again. The wood door squeaked open and the house was awash in darkness. Bagel bounded inside, undaunted by the lack of light, nails clicking against the wood floor, then quieting as he went airborne toward the fuzzy shape of what she hoped was a sofa. Balancing the box in one hand, she fumbled on the wall for the light switch.
The light flickered before stabilizing. Annamae pushed deeper into the living area, past the loveseat and coffee table and set her box down on the stretch of a sturdy bench that lined the back wall. The stately dark wood bench parked against stone walls made the carriage house seem like it had waltzed out of a fairytale. A few talking animals would complete the image.
“What do you think, Bagel?” Annamae cooed. The scruffy mutt wriggled his whole body but didn’t utter a sound. Still, he was clearly adjusting well.
“Let’s take a look around, buddy.” She scooped him into her arms, his wiry fur tickly against her skin.
Room by room, Annamae flipped on lights, gauging her new space. She walked up the stairs to the loft bedroom. Sparse, but functional.
A full size bed was angled in one corner, and a single dresser with a mirror in the other. The wood floor squeaked as she circled the huge, open space. The bedroom sported a large, arched window that overlooked the majority of the apple orchard. The view would be beautiful at dawn. Part of her ached that she was here alone, so detached from everything she had ever known. No one to share the beauty with.
But a larger part of her was excited at the potential this place offered. There were no cameras, no faces she needed to wear.
She set Bagel down on the bed and he wiggled across the quilt over to the window. He stared outside, brown eyes alert.
“Are you going to be my tough guard dog?” Annamae laughed from the doorway. Bagel cocked his head to the side.
“We’re going to be just fine here,” she said.
Turning the light off, Annamae climbed back down the rustic steps, Bagel close at her heels. She retrieved the final box from her car and made her way into the circa 1950s kitchen, complete with mint green cabinets and a black checkerboard tile floor.
She set the groceries on the red vinyl-topped table and started unloading. Peanut butter, a loaf of bread, crackers, and some cans of soup. No ice cream though. That would be one of her first purchases tomorrow once she was very sure the freezer worked well. She emptied the rest onto the table. A wrought iron chandelier of exposed lights bathed the room in a warm, yellow glow.
It would take some getting used to, all this…possibility. A new dog, a new town. A new life. One she was completely in control of. And, a new man, maybe. Annamae’s cheeks heated. She had only just called off her wedding.
And yet, she couldn’t deny the electric feeling of being in Heath’s presence. It was like being outside before a Southern summer storm struck. The air crackled with
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