Page 11 of Snow Globe Secrets

“I see why you bought this place; it’s really beautiful.”

“Wait till you see the view from inside,” he said, then looked a bit embarrassed, like he’d been caught bragging.

“That might have to wait until the asshole shaking this snow globe puts it the fuck down.”

It took him a beat, but he laughed at that. I really liked hearing him laugh, though his nerves still seemed a little frazzled from the drive.

The snow had been blinding, and I was happy to have it behind us as he pulled into the garage. Randall heaved a sigh as he watched the garage door shut the storm out through his rearview mirror. When the door closed, Randall went back to staring out the windshield, not moving, not turning off the vehicle. He had been so tense as he drove, and not wanting to call attention to it, I had tried my best to ignore it while we had been out on those treacherous roads. Now all I wanted to do was acknowledge it, to acknowledge him, and make sure he was okay, which was odd since he was just some old friend of my parents, whom I’d never met before. Yet I sensed that my attention would be welcome.

Before saying anything, I cupped his bicep and squeezed, letting out a sigh of my own.

“The storm was really blinding out there. It’s crazy how quickly it went from a cold day to white-out conditions. Thank you, Randall, for getting us home safely. I really hate when the weather gets like this. It’s why I don’t have a car up here.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a shaky sigh, “I hate it too.”

“Well, we’re safe now inside this beautiful snow globe. No more driving until the storm’s cleared, right? Let’s get these groceries inside.”

He looked down at my hand before looking up at me. I left it where it was, trying to communicate that he had done a great job and that he didn’t have to worry any longer. We’d muddle through our snow globe adventure together.

Together.

Despite the layers between us, something in me ignited just from my gloved hand on his arm.

“Yes, yup. Welcome to my snow globe,” he joked, and it made me happier than it really should have to hear his accented little chuckle.

We stepped out of the car, and I took in the large open space around me. The walls were neatly lined with shelves and cabinets, and in the space where a second car would go, Randall had a treadmill and a weight bench. A huge TV hung off the garage wall.

Randall rounded the back of the vehicle and loaded his arms with bags as I grabbed the case of beer and followed him up two small steps and directly into a laundry room.

“Welcome,” he said sheepishly as he crossed the fairly decent-sized room, also full of neatly organized shelves and storage as well as a way-more-modern washer and dryer set then we had at school, or than my parents had back home in Jersey.

“Jeez, those things look more advanced than my cell phone. Do they prepare dinner when they’re not cleaning clothes?”

Randall laughed again, and my heart soared at having been the one to make that happen. “My company was involved in developing the app.”

“The app? Your washer and dryer have their own app?”

“I could wash a load of laundry from New Jersey if I wanted.”

“If we make it to New Jersey!” I hoisted the box I was carrying, not because I needed to, but because I needed to not be thinking about how long we might have to spend alone in his cabin before finally making it to my parents’ house.

He took the cue and opened the door opposite the one we’d just walked through. We were in a sleek modern kitchen that almost seemed incongruous when I looked past it to the open floor plan of the cabin beyond. The single wide-open, vaulted-ceilinged room was practically all windows except for the huge, stone-framed fireplace and bookcases that took up one whole wall. Looking up, there were two balconies, or landings, opposite each other, one sporting more bookcases. Parallel staircases from opposite sides of the room led from the landings down to our level. Every surface that wasn’t a snow-filled window was rustic wood or natural stone. Except for the kitchen, with its white cabinets and sleek stainless-steel appliances, a rectangular island forming the barrier to the rest of the room and housing the sink and stovetop, and a white marble surface jutting out from the center of one end of the rectangle, slightly lower than the countertop surface, acting as the kitchen table.

“I bet those appliances have their own apps as well?” I jutted my chin toward the kitchen.

“They do, indeed.”

“Like the thermostat. I turned on the spot to look around the impressive room. “Sorry, appliances, to interrupt your down time. We’ll get out of your hair as soon as the weather allows.” Randall might have looked at me funny to start, but he was smiling again. I headed for the kitchen. “Mr. Refrigerator,” I said, holding out a hand as if to shake before opening the door and finding it practically empty as Randall had intimated. I shoved the whole case of beer onto a shelf.

“Thank you. It is really cozy in here.” I turned back to Randall, taking in the beautiful room once again.

A large, comfortable-looking couch, with a matching love seat on one side and two chairs on the other, circled the dormant fireplace. There was nothing on the mantle or hanging above it. No photos or knickknacks, no paintings, nothing but books on the inset bookshelves. I took in the whole room one more time, admiring it. There were no decorations anywhere.

“Green garland,” I spoke.

“Huh?” he appropriately responded.

I pointed to the balcony with the bookshelf. “Green garland. The kind with lights in it.” I spun around and pointed to the other loft. “You could thread it through the railings and down the banisters. Oh! And hang it on the mantle. White lights, of course. Multicolored would be all wrong for this elegant space.”