Day
Peter looked up at the house that would hopefully become his temporary home. It was a bed and breakfast for those simply passing through and a boarding house for those staying a minimum of four months.
The house was an old Victorian, probably built in the mid-1800s. By appearance, it looked like it hadn’t been painted in over a decade; yellow siding with a dull white door and shutters. Set back in a wooded area off the beaten track and away from the more populated areas, there was a quarter-mile of unpaved driveway with more potholes than anyone dared to count, leading to the house from a quiet stretch of highway.
Parking his black, nondescript car next to an old Cadillac and a ten-year-old Jeep, he then hauled himself out and across the circular driveway. Mounting the steps, he stopped in front of the door and inhaled deeply, preparing himself for the interview. But before his knuckles could make contact with the door, before he could release his deep inhale, the door was thrown open by a sixty-something-year-old woman with a warm smile.
“You must be Peter Carsten,” she exclaimed with an excitement that rivaled a child’s in an ice cream parlor. “I’ve been expecting you.” The woman offered her hand, and he shook it gently.
“I hope I’m not late?” He gave her a perplexed look, wanting to pull out his phone to check the time again. Hadn’t she said five?
“No, no, no,” the woman exclaimed. “We just don’t get too many people this way, and it’s always nice to meet someone new. It’s my entertainment.” She winked playfully as she held the door open wider, allowing Peter to walk in.
He waited until she shut the door before inquiring, “You must be Mrs. Morell?”
The woman pressed a hand to his back and ushered him down a long foyer toward the back of the house. “Oh, please call me Ms. Diana.” She waved off his faux pas. “Let’s go into the kitchen. I already have tea and cookies out.” Again with her childlike enthusiasm. It had a smile tugging at his lips.
They walked into the kitchen and took their seats at a little table that was pushed against the wall. The kitchen was all white—white walls, white cupboards, white counters, white floors. Too much white. And extremely small.
“Hey, Ms. Diana.” A cute little body in white short-shorts and a yellow tank top walked past Peter. Since his back was to the opening of the kitchen, he hadn’t seen anyone walk in. Nor had he heard her for that matter; her steps light. And, as the young woman sauntered to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of orange juice before sidestepping to a cabinet and retrieving a glass, he saw her steps were lithe, too. A dancer perhaps.
Peter heard her pour the juice into the glass, but he still hadn’t taken his eyes off her lower body or her slim waist. Her long, bare legs were tan, as were her thin arms. Her hair was the golden color of honey, pulled back in a high ponytail.
When Ms. Diana cleared her throat to get Peter’s attention, he instantly felt embarrassed. Ashamed yet sulky, he turned back to face her and gave her his most undivided attention.
Yeah right, his thoughts were still on the woman.
He hadn’t seen her face, yet he knew she was beautiful. With a body and voice like that, she had to be.
“So, Peter, what do you do for a living?” Ms. Diana wore a teasing smile.
Peter sat up straighter to regain his composure. “My family owns a small marketing company. It’s based out of California, but I do my end online. Web design.”
Ms. Diana nodded, but Peter could tell he had lost her.
“Isn’t that what you do, Tristana?”
The young woman turned just her head to answer, “No.”
Peter saw her profile. It was just as perfect as the rest of her. She had soft eyes, a small nose, and a full bottom lip. His body came alive at the thought of feeling that bottom lip between his teeth.
He had to look away quickly, which was a shame because that was the moment the woman—Tristana—decided to abandon her cup of juice and walk out of the kitchen.
“That’s Tristana, of course,” Ms. Diana whispered. “She’s a bit of a loner; stays in her room most of the time. I don’t know much about her history, except she’s from Florida.” She shrugged. “She pays her rent on time, works on her computer nonstop, and helps when she can. She’s friends with my son.”
“How old is she? She looks so young. I thought she was your”—almost saying granddaughter, he caught himself—“daughter.”
“I believe she’s twenty-two or twenty-three. I questioned her myself when she came to live here four years ago.”
“So, how many people live here?” As intrigued as he was by the beautiful girl, he didn’t want to seem too nosy when he was at an interview for a room.
Ms. Diana looked disappointed that he didn’t want to ask more about Tristana. “Only Tristana and I live here. However, we have many businessmen and women who come through often, staying a week or two every few months. Then we have the occasional honeymooners. They stay on the third floor. Those are the honeymoon suites. I’m sorry to say I hear it gets quite loud once in a while.” She winked. “We did have a Navy lieutenant here for about a year, until he fell in love and got married. They have a house closer to base now, or so I hear.”
Their conversation flowed to questions about Peter and about the house and expectations before Ms. Diana gave him a tour. When they came back to the kitchen, she was beaming again.
“So, when can you move in?”
Surprised by how fast she had asked, having expected a call later after she had time to consider him, he spent a few seconds staring open-mouthed at her before he regained his senses and said, “Um, tomorrow. I’ve actually been staying at a hotel in the city.”
“Oh no. A hotel? How long have you been in the area?” Ms. Diana looked at him with questions filling her eyes. She simply couldn’t understand what was going on with this young man.
“I just came to the area last week after cleaning out my brother’s … well, his life,” Peter explained. “He, uh … he passed away over a month ago.” He still got choked up whenever he thought about it. His brother hadn’t just been his older sibling. He had basically been his only friend over the recent years.
“Oh, you poor boy. I am so sorry for your loss.” Ms. Diana put a tender hand on his arm. “Well, if it wasn’t getting so late, I would suggest you go get your things and come back this instant. However, I’m sure you are already rented your room for the night at the hotel?”
Peter just nodded, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions about his brother.
“Well, I better head back. Is there a certain time I should wait to come over tomorrow?” he asked as he started heading toward the door with Ms. Diana at his heels.
“No, no, no.” She waved her hands at him. “I’m up with the sunrise.”
Peter turned around to shake Ms. Diana’s hand, but she had a different idea. Instead, she pulled him into a warm embrace and kissed his cheek.
In his moment of surprise at the warmth of a stranger, he glanced up the stairs and finally saw Tristana’s face from where she watched him at the top of the stairs.
“Frozen in time,” slipped from his lips in barely a whisper as she quickly turned out of view.
She will be interesting to live with, Peter thought as he gave Ms. Diana a warm smile then left the house.
The house was appealing to him. He could have gotten an apartment somewhere, but he had never enjoyed his own company, having basically lived alone with it for too many years. Growing up in a small town in northern California, where the citizens who had once loved him turned on him, country living with a few friendlies seemed like a much better situation for him. Especially while mourning the loss of his brother.
His father had wanted his oldest to take over the family business, but Jason had always done what he had thought was right, and being a young man, the right thing was serving in the military. Consequently, he had enlisted in the Navy at the age of eighteen and had loved it so much he had wanted to make a career out of it. Nine years later and two tours, he had died in a tragic training accident at the young age of twenty-seven.
His family was in total devastation; had been for years. His parents hadn’t even been able to bear traveling out east to sort through his brother’s personal things. Therefore, Peter had been the one to take up the reins, although it broke his heart.
His brother had been his personal hero. The brave one. The strong one. The funny and always quick to joke and laugh one. He had been his protector when they were kids, except when he couldn’t be …
However, his brother had been there when he had turned eighteen, convincing their parents that a move would do wonders for Peter. He had lived with him for the past four years … until a knock on the door had changed that.
Peter hadn’t even crawled out of bed yet when the knock had sounded, echoing throughout his and Jason’s townhouse. Stumbling downstairs and to the front door, Jason’s gunnery sergeant had greeted him with the news that his brother had perished when a tactical vehicle had rolled in a freak accident. Out of the eleven men and women inside, only Jason had died. It had been instantaneous, a hit to the head.
Peter’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his heart clenching at the thought of never seeing his brother again. The funeral had been hard; old friends coming to pay their respects, the sound of the volley shots that had made him jump, the servicemen neatly and methodically folding the flag. That was when he and his parents had finally broke. However, going through all his brother’s personal belongings had been harder—the second hardest moment of his life.
Seeing his brother’s old baseball glove from when they were kids. Sifting through pictures of past holidays, boating trips, ski trips, and all the fun beach times they’d had. Seeing the letters everyone had sent him during his two month stay in boot camp. Folding Jason’s favorite blanket he’d had since they were kids. Packing mementos he had treasured all his life. After only a couple of hours, Peter hadn’t been able to take it anymore and had decided to just box everything up and ship it to his parents’ house, promising to go through everything whenever he made it back home, hoping enough time would pass before then to bear the burden. The furniture, he had just left on the side of the road with a sign that read “Free.” It had disappeared within an hour.
Peter shook the thoughts of his brother out of his head. That was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. He had another mission here.
His thoughts quickly shifted to the young woman, Tristana. She was a puzzle he had to figure out. He couldn’t get over her youthful looks, or those barely-there, white, see-through shorts and little tank top that made his groin ache in need.
Yes, living with that one would be very interesting indeed.
~~~~~
Tristana needed to get out of the house. She had been working on her newest project since eight that morning, twelve hours now, only taking the occasional break to bask in the sunlight on the roof outside her window or go downstairs to get a drink or a bite to eat.
Last time she had gone downstairs, Ms. Diana had been interviewing a potential new tenant. The man had been exceptionally handsome and very clean cut. He had the military haircut with the sides short and the top only a little longer, revealing his dark brown hair. His hazel eyes had seemed to see right through her as she had studied him, trying to figure out his persona. To her, he seemed the quiet, studious type. More stoic than impulsive. Yet, a voice inside her head told her that he could be easily persuaded to have fun, loosen up. That underneath his serious mien was a young man who loved a challenge and thrived at partaking in them.
Tristana hadn’t missed the drooling look in Ms. Diana’s eyes as she had stared at the man across the kitchen table from her. Before she had even seen him, she had known he was handsome by that look alone. She had still been curious, though. Curious enough to spy on him as he had been leaving and see that the handsome man with the chiseled chin and five o’clock shadow was hot enough to make her knees tremble.
But, he wasn’t her type. No one was. And she was sure she wasn’t his. He would probably move out after a week of dealing with her. The last tenant had. Ms. Diana had been so distraught, but she would never ask Tristana to leave.
“Are you going out, dear?” Ms. Diana’s question stopped Tristana before she could turn the handle on the front door.
With her hand still on the doorknob, she turned around to see Ms. Diana standing in the archway of the front parlor. She must have been reading in there, as she often did. The woman never watched television. She refused to even get cable for her guests or tenants. Ms. Diana was old-school like that. She also had Tristana get the Sunday paper for her every week—her only link to the outside world.
“Just a drive,” Tristana answered.
Ms. Diana nodded then broke out in a youthful grin. “What did you think of the young man?”
She was prying; Tristana knew.
Tristana simply shrugged then turned to head out the door. Ms. Diana was always trying to get her to talk, but Tristana wasn’t one for conversations. She preferred to listen and learn.
She climbed into her Jeep that had been given to her by another previous tenant who had married some blonde bimbo after getting her knocked up, something she had kept from Ms. Diana since she had been so happy for him. He had needed to upgrade the off-road vehicle for something more family-oriented. Not a year later, they were already divorced, and he was already seeing another woman, someone more mature with kids of her own.
She looked through her music selection before choosing something loud. Then she turned the Jeep around, rolled down the windows, and began singing. All thoughts and worries were instantly thrown out of her head. Work and the man—Peter—became a distant memory. This was how she relaxed—driving and singing. The past could not touch her here.