“Yes, but Ms. Campbell, from our meeting last week. She didn’t seem wild about me in the meeting and this might…” My voice trailed off.
“Ms. Campbell? Rita adored you,” Nick said confused, then as if the realization had just hit him, he gasped. “Oh, Kit! Don't worry about her. She is the nicest, most agreeable person in town. Everyone loves Kit.”
I blinked, trying to process the description Nick had just given me of Kit Campbell, the co-owner of not only the riverfront property I desperately needed to buy to make this deal work, but also the co-owner of this studio apartment I had agreed to lease. In my limited experience with Kit, she had been snarky and quick to judge.
“Plus,” Nick said, leaning in a little and speaking out of the side of his mouth as if he were telling me a secret, “this is the only place in a thirty-mile radius that was vacant to rent on such short notice, so it’s definitely the best option, because it's the only option.”
Nick beamed a huge smile at me as he pressed the doorbell. I felt a familiar tightness in my body that I recognized anxiety. I took a deep breath, counting down from five, and then exhaled slowly counting back up.
I had moved around a lot when I was young and had rented my fair share of rooms since college and graduate school. Keeping to myself in this rental should be simple. My anxiety was high because all the pressure around the Creekstone deal had been magnified since I’d talked to Mr. Braithway.
I heard some shuffling around. Then, as the heavy front door opened, the bells on the wreath jingled so loudly they sounded like a laugh track from a sitcom.
“Hey.” It was Kit Campbell. She smiled warmly at Nick but sighed when she looked at me. She pushed the door open wider, turned, waved a finger for us to follow her. “Come on in. Aunt Rita is working a double at the hospital, so she asked me to help you get into your apartment.”
“Thank you. Your house is lovely,” I said as I followed Kit into the house.
“Thanks. It’s been in the family for four generations,” she said flatly.
I heard Nick behind me clear his throat. “Hey, Kit. I would love to stay and get the tour again, but I have to run back to the office. I’ll see you at the committee meeting later today, though.” Nick waved with both hands and flashed his huge smile at us.
“Sounds good, Nick,” Kit said, tilting her head and then added in an especially warm tone, “I just baked some Christmas cookies for the meeting.”
Nick stood up straight, and his jaw dropped open, but somehow, he was still smiling. “Is that what that delicious smell is? I cannot wait! I’ll make sure to have some coffee and tea ready.” Nick waved again and pulled the door shut behind him.
I turned back to Kit, who had her arms crossed, looking at me skeptically. Despite her overall displeased demeanor, Kit was extremely beautiful. She was petite and curvy. She had her thick, wavy black hair pulled back into a loose braid that fell over her shoulder. She was wearing a hoodie and a pair of jeans that hugged her hips in just the right way. I tried to look as if I didn’t notice.
“So, I guess Aunt Rita wasn’t joking after all. You really are going to go through with this.”
I let a puff of air out. I wasn’t expecting Kit to roll out a red carpet for me, but this wasn’t exactly the warm, agreeable person that Nick claimed Kit to be.
“What you said about needing to build trust makes perfect sense. But I’ll be honest with you—I feel a connection with Creekstone, and I’m excited to be here,” I said. I swallowed and smiled. The truth was I moved to Creekstone because my boss created this hoop I needed to jump through to get the most important promotion of my career. And I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. If I needed to temporarily move to this podunk town to get everyone on board, then so be it—and that included Kit. “I hear Christmas is the best time to be in Creekstone.”
Kit rolled her eyes. “Well, I promised Aunt Rita I would show you around.’ She limply held out her hand. “As you can see this is the foyer. We keep the front door locked at all times. Follow me, please.”
The interior of the house had beautiful craftsman-style architectural accents. There was a large staircase directly facing the front door and two rooms, one on each side of the foyer. I followed Kit into one of the rooms. “Okay. This is one of our common areas. Feel free to use this as much as you want. The other renters come down here in the evenings, have drinks, and talk before dinner.”
“This is great,” I said. The room was warm and inviting space with two sofas and two arm chairs flanking a large wooden coffee table near a fire place. There was a large television above a credenza. In the corner stood a tall Christmas tree.
Kit said, “Okay, I’ll show you where you can check your mail.” Kit walked past without looking at me and back into the foyer. I followed her into the second room.
“This is the office. We put mail in your cubbies,” she pointed. The wall had a nice shelf and a box that had beendivided into mail cubbies. Kit walked over to the desk and shuffled some papers around like she was looking for something. “I’ll put your name on one of the boxes later so you know which one is yours.”
“This room is also amazing,” I said looking around in awe at the floor to ceiling built-in bookcases. “The craftsmanship on these bookcases is remarkable.”
“Yes, my grandfather put them in. Renters sometimes borrow books. Feel free,” Kit muttered as she continued to look for something on the desk. I tried not to let it bother me that she was so disinterested. I walked over and started looking at the books on one of the shelves.
“I guess it makes sense that a librarian would have so many books,” I said, trying to make small talk.
“I found it,” Kit said, ignoring my comment. She help up a white envelope.
Kit walked around the desk. She stood so close to me that I could smell the faint smell of jasmine perfume. I tried not to lean in. “Here are your keys,” Kit said, handing me the envelope. I folded the envelope in half and put it in my back pocket.
Kit brushed past me, and I followed her. She walked past the stairs down a hallway. As we passed a closed door, she pointed and said, “That’s a bathroom.”
Then we kept walking. The short hallway opened up into a bright kitchen. The kitchen had a farmhouse vibe to it. “Every apartment has a small kitchenette with a little fridge, microwave, and hotplate, but most residents prefer to make large meals downstairs. They plan them together.” Kit tapped a calendar on the refrigerator. “Feel free to put food in this fridge or in the cupboard next to the fridge. I’d just write your name on it if it’s important to you.”
“Got it,” I said. Trying to be positive, I added, “The cookies do smell good.”
