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Owen looks relieved. “Good.” He smiles and cocks his head to the side before saying, “Any chance you’re free tomorrow or the day after?” When I let out a surprised laugh, he adds, “It’s just that I’m going away for a week and I don’t want to wait that long to see you.”
“You’re ago big or go homekind of guy, aren’t you?”
“You could say that.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just to New York. I have to be in the city for a few days.”
“Nice. I used to love visiting New York with my parents when I was a kid.”
“Same here.” He fixes his eyes on mine, expectant.
“I’m free tomorrow night. But I live like an hour away from here.”
He hands me his phone. “Put your number and your address in. I’ll come to you.”
“Are you sure? I’m not exaggerating when I say that the nightlife is lacking.”
“I could care less.”
“Then it’s a date.”
He opens my car door for me, and I think I must be wearing the same goofy smile he’s sporting. “See you tomorrow, Grace.”
And in that moment, I suddenly feel like little Olivia, jumpy and impatient. I’ve got lots to do, and I can’t wait for tomorrow.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Owen
I’m curious more than anything else when I pull into the driveway, looking down at my phone again to make sure I’ve got the right address.
Grace lives in a house, a small ranch. I was expecting an apartment, something more suited to a person our age. I mean, I own my own home, but most people our age don’t go down that road until after they walk down the aisle.
I take in the cracks on the concrete porch, the faded curtains hanging in the front windows, and the flowering shrubs that look like they’re in serious need of some tender loving care.
Grace dresses like a cross between a Hollywood starlet and a high-end fortune teller. She’s all about color, bangles and beads. This place is the polar opposite. The weather-beaten pale green siding looks like it was installed thirty years ago.
I’m about to knock when I hear music coming from the backyard, so I walk around instead. Grace is shaking her hips to some pop music as she sets the patio table with a bright blue tablecloth, sunshine yellow napkins and some colorful plates in a Talavera design. This is more like it.
“Oh, hey!”
“Sorry to sneak up on you like that. I was about to knock until I heard the music on back here.”
She walks over to lower the volume on the speaker. “You’re early.” She looks pleased when she says it, though, which puts me at ease. “Are those for me?” she asks, looking at the bunch of flowers I’m holding. “I love tiger lilies. Orange is one of my favorite colors.”
“You seem more the tiger lily type than, I don’t know, plain old roses .”
“For future reference, I like roses too. The only flowers I don’t like are mums and gladiola. They remind me of funerals.” Looking back over her shoulder, she says, “Come on in so I can find a vase for these.”
“How long have you lived here?” I ask as I look around. The brown shag carpet, the flowered sofa and loveseat—everything screams senior citizen.
She follows the path my eyes are taking. “My Aunt Vivian left the house to me. I couldn’t bring myself to move in at first, but I’ve been here for,” she pauses to think, “nine months now.” Her smile drops when she adds, “I know it needs a lot of work, but I just can’t seem to get started. All of my furniture is still in storage.”
“I didn’t take you for a brown paneling kind of girl.”
She winces and then laughs. “It’s vintage, you fool.” Still looking around the kitchen for a vase, she says, “This place is still like a shrine to Aunt Viv. I’ve thought about doing a whole remodel and redecorate, but...”
