pants. It had taken hours for Hunter and Dee to calm her down and convince her that the spider was not still at large inside her clothes.
“I’ve refused to go in ever since.”
Trina and Phoebe tried cajoling, but to no avail. So Trina and Phoebe carried the supplies into the shed, inventoried and organized, and fetched things as needed.
Trina and the girls also elaborated the interior and exterior design, inspired by what they were able to scavenge and by fantasies they spun on drives to scavenging locations and antiques stores.
“What if there were a spiral staircase up a nearby tree and then a suspension bridge?” Clara suggested.
“That sounds complicated,” Trina said.
“I bet Daddy could figure out how to do it.”
“I bet he could.” Trina smiled, a little sadly. It was lovely that Clara’s old hero worship of her father had resurfaced. But it meant that it was almost time for Trina to go. The night before, Hunter had even dared a conversation with Clara about the taboo topic, and Clara had nervously, grudgingly, answered his questions.
As Hunter began to drill for the TABs and anchor the first beams of the house’s platform, Trina, Clara, and Phoebe hatched the notion that there should be a sleeping loft. A crow’s nest. An outdoor, solar-heated shower. A padded window seat with extra storage that would fold out into a bed in case additional guests came to stay.
Hunter never said no. He took the girls’ suggestions seriously, and hers even more so.
“Sky’s the limit,” he said. “Literally.”
And at night, when the girls were in bed, they sat on the couch and he told her his ideas for how he would make each item on the wish list happen, and then he sat quietly and listened while she told him what she pictured for the interior. Her focus had shifted from features to how she wanted it to feel.
“Cozy. Safe. Warm. But also not rustic. Elegant, but all those other things, too. I’m picturing autumn colors, but threads of gold. Low light, but from really beautiful fixtures. I mean, obviously, you don’t have to do it this way. They’re just suggestions.” She pushed down the wave of sadness that rose at the thought that she’d probably never see the finished product.
“Believe me, I’m happy to hear your thoughts. Interior design isn’t my strong suit. And you’ve got an amazing talent.”
“It’s what I do,” she said. “Set design is all about helping to tell a story, and telling a story is all about making people feel certain things at certain times. So you have an emotion in mind, and you evoke it with
things
. And being able to imagine the things and then find or make them—that’s part of the skill.”
“You really love it, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
“You light up when you talk about it. You’re—”
And then he hesitated. Touched his fingertips to his head, the way he did when it bothered him. “I should get to bed,” he said.
She watched him go, and then she picked up one of the couch throw pillows and quietly cried into it.
Chapter 12
She was cleaning up the girls’ breakfast dishes Wednesday morning when he stepped into the kitchen.
He was wearing men’s cotton pajama pants and a gray T-shirt, and her pulse leapt at her throat. Not just because the fabric of both articles was well worn and clung everywhere his body bulged with muscle or otherwise. Although it was a thing of beauty, the soft way that T-shirt knit hugged his pecs and biceps. She wanted to stroke him through the shirt so she could feel both the give of the knit and the immovable strength underneath. And that was leaving aside entirely how very much she wanted to lay hands on those pj pants and what he was packing underneath.
No, her heart was pounding because this was the first time he’d come into the kitchen in the morning without showering and getting dressed first.
It was like
before
.
He was getting comfortable with her. He wasn’t putting so much distance between them.
But
“I’ve refused to go in ever since.”
Trina and Phoebe tried cajoling, but to no avail. So Trina and Phoebe carried the supplies into the shed, inventoried and organized, and fetched things as needed.
Trina and the girls also elaborated the interior and exterior design, inspired by what they were able to scavenge and by fantasies they spun on drives to scavenging locations and antiques stores.
“What if there were a spiral staircase up a nearby tree and then a suspension bridge?” Clara suggested.
“That sounds complicated,” Trina said.
“I bet Daddy could figure out how to do it.”
“I bet he could.” Trina smiled, a little sadly. It was lovely that Clara’s old hero worship of her father had resurfaced. But it meant that it was almost time for Trina to go. The night before, Hunter had even dared a conversation with Clara about the taboo topic, and Clara had nervously, grudgingly, answered his questions.
As Hunter began to drill for the TABs and anchor the first beams of the house’s platform, Trina, Clara, and Phoebe hatched the notion that there should be a sleeping loft. A crow’s nest. An outdoor, solar-heated shower. A padded window seat with extra storage that would fold out into a bed in case additional guests came to stay.
Hunter never said no. He took the girls’ suggestions seriously, and hers even more so.
“Sky’s the limit,” he said. “Literally.”
And at night, when the girls were in bed, they sat on the couch and he told her his ideas for how he would make each item on the wish list happen, and then he sat quietly and listened while she told him what she pictured for the interior. Her focus had shifted from features to how she wanted it to feel.
“Cozy. Safe. Warm. But also not rustic. Elegant, but all those other things, too. I’m picturing autumn colors, but threads of gold. Low light, but from really beautiful fixtures. I mean, obviously, you don’t have to do it this way. They’re just suggestions.” She pushed down the wave of sadness that rose at the thought that she’d probably never see the finished product.
“Believe me, I’m happy to hear your thoughts. Interior design isn’t my strong suit. And you’ve got an amazing talent.”
“It’s what I do,” she said. “Set design is all about helping to tell a story, and telling a story is all about making people feel certain things at certain times. So you have an emotion in mind, and you evoke it with
things
. And being able to imagine the things and then find or make them—that’s part of the skill.”
“You really love it, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
“You light up when you talk about it. You’re—”
And then he hesitated. Touched his fingertips to his head, the way he did when it bothered him. “I should get to bed,” he said.
She watched him go, and then she picked up one of the couch throw pillows and quietly cried into it.
Chapter 12
She was cleaning up the girls’ breakfast dishes Wednesday morning when he stepped into the kitchen.
He was wearing men’s cotton pajama pants and a gray T-shirt, and her pulse leapt at her throat. Not just because the fabric of both articles was well worn and clung everywhere his body bulged with muscle or otherwise. Although it was a thing of beauty, the soft way that T-shirt knit hugged his pecs and biceps. She wanted to stroke him through the shirt so she could feel both the give of the knit and the immovable strength underneath. And that was leaving aside entirely how very much she wanted to lay hands on those pj pants and what he was packing underneath.
No, her heart was pounding because this was the first time he’d come into the kitchen in the morning without showering and getting dressed first.
It was like
before
.
He was getting comfortable with her. He wasn’t putting so much distance between them.
But
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