“It’s open!”
I let myself in and am immediately engulfed by the comforting scent of cinnamon. Her home is warm and inviting, painted in jewel tones, and seemingly decorated by someone’s hippie grandma. There’s a shoe rack next to the door, so I slip off my flip-flops before going any further.
“Hey,” she says, rounding the corner from the living room. She’s got a royal blue tank top on and the color pops against her pale, freckled skin.
“Hi,” I say. “Happy birthday!”
“Thank you.” She grins. “Give me ten minutes to change and then we can go.”
“Take your time,” I tell her. “We’ve got all night.”
“True. Do you want a tour?” she asks.
“Sure!”
She motions for me to follow her and I do. We walk into the living room. It’s vastly different from the one at Beth’s house. Raquel’s is colorful; the walls are painted a deep, royal purple and there’s windchimes in the corner by the window. Her furniture is mismatched, but full of character. Her sofa is olive green corduroy, and there’s a dark leather chair caddy-cornered to it. A small coffee table sits in front of the couch, a rainbow mosaic covering its top.
She shows me the living room, a small kitchen, her bathroom and bedroom, and stops when she nears another bedroom.
“Uh, this is my studio,” she says quietly as she opens the door.
Behind it is an artist’s dream space. Big windows overlook her small backyard and let in tons of natural light. There’s a desk in the corner, and an easel in the center of the room.
“Wow,” I breathe as I step into the room. Artwork lines the walls and I’m astonished by it. Nature scenes, abstract pieces, and portraits are scattered along the wall. “You never told me you are an artist!”
“I dabble,” she says, her cheeks turning red, just like that first day in the diner. “Right now, I’m working with watercolors.”
I glance at the easel and her current creation, a sailboat on the sea at sunset.
“This would look fantastic at the diner. You’re really talented,” I say.
“Thanks,” Raquel says. “I don’t tell many people about it.”
“Why not? You should!”
She shrugs. “I get a little embarrassed.”
I turn to look at her. “This is nothing to be embarrassed about. I wish I could do this!”
“We could paint together sometime,” she says, “I could teach you.”
“I’d like that.” I feel the grin on my face growing wider as I turn back to look at her.
“Oh my gosh, Penny could join us! We could have a girls craft club or something!”
I nod enthusiastically. “That sounds fantastic.”
Raquel steps out of her studio after a few moments and I follow suit. She shuts the door behind her and we return to her bedroom. I sit down on her bed while she ventures into her closet to change.
Her bed feels like a giant marshmallow and I sink into it with a contented sigh. A giant, fluffy orange cat jumps up on the bed next to me.
"Hello,” I say to it.
Raquel pops her head out of the closet and smiles. “That’s Mr. Miles,” she says before ducking back into her clothes.
“Hello,” I repeat, “Mr. Miles.” I offer my hand out to the cat and he rubs against it, purring affectionately.
“What do we think about this?” Raquel asks as she steps out in front of me. She’s in shorts and a black sequined top. It reminds me of Judith.
