“Rosie!” he roared, pulling her into a bear hug. He swung his head back. “Dale, they’re here!”
“This is the girl I was telling you about,” said Rosie when he let her go.
I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and another man appeared at the door. He had closely cropped hair, and his clean-shaven face was framed by a pair of rimless glasses.
“Audrey, this is Graham, and this—” she motioned to the man in glasses, “is his partner, Dale.”
“Hi,” I said.
“She’s gorgeous,” said Dale, planting a kiss on my cheek.
“Thank you,” I laughed.
A little Yorkie poked her head from behind his ankles. He scooped her up. “And this little thing here is Apple.”
“Hi, Apple.” I reached down and stroked her head. She tipped her head back and licked my fingers.
“Come in, come in,” said Graham, and we followed him inside.
“Oh, it’s beautiful,” I said, as my eyes took in the wooden beams and their quaint triangular formation. Expansive windows opened to a stunning view of snowcapped mountains and fir trees dusted with white. The place was immaculate and beautifully decorated with antiques, Persian rugs, and charming lampshades; it was full of warm hues of red, pink, and earthy browns. A large cream-colored couch wrapped around a roaring fire in the center of the room. My heart gave a small flutter of hope. No more cold, damp nights at the motel if this worked out for me.
Graham walked over to the bar and came back with two drinks in his hand.
“These are our famous Pink Flamingos,” he said, handing one to me and the other to Rosie.
“Oh, these are legendary,” she said, taking a sip from her neon-green straw.
I took a sip of mine. It tasted like a mix of cotton candy, grapefruit, and Cointreau.
“Yum,” I exclaimed as Dale winked at me.
We settled ourselves on the couch, and Apple bounded up into my lap.
“She likes you,” said Graham. “That’s always a good sign.”
I smiled. “I like her too.”
“So, Audrey, I suppose Rosie has told you we’re looking for a house sitter while we’re away for the winter.”
“Yes, she has.”
“Our regular girl pulled out last minute. Met some guy and took off with him to Spain—all quite sudden. These whirlwind romances.” He rolled his eyes. “So we were in a bit of a fix until you showed up.”
“It was meant to be,” said Rosie.
“It seems that way, doesn’t it?” He smiled. “Now, Audrey, I’m sure you’re a model citizen, but we’ll need two references from you. It’s just a standard thing we do.”
“That’s fine. I was house-sitting in Sydney for my best friend’s uncle. I can get a reference from him. And I’m sure my editor, Sam, would be happy to provide one as well.”
“Perfect!” said Dale, clapping his hands together. “Let’s talk about payment.”
“Oh, no, I’m happy to do it free of charge, honestly. I mean, you’re the ones who are doing me the favor. It’s been really hard finding a place, and I’ll be glad to get out of that motel.”
“No, no, we insist.”
“No, really—”
“Oh, darling,” said Dale, his hand on my arm. “We don’t mind at all—honestly.”
Graham chimed in. “Well, if it would make you feel better, why don’t you do a little work for us on the side as well?”
“Work?”
“Of course!” said Dale, his eyes lighting up. “The antiques.”
Graham turned to me. “Dale and I import antiques, and we have a whole shed full of them that need some TLC. So if you’d like, you can work on them while we’re away. That would be perfect, actually. What do you think?”
“I’ve never worked with antiques before. Is it hard?”
“Not at all.” Graham waved his hand. “Easy as pie. We just need to have them cleaned up and oiled. Dale and I will take you through it.”
“Sounds great! I’d love to make myself useful while I’m here.”
There was a ding sound.
“Aha! The Bombe Alaska’s ready,” said Dale, jumping to his feet. “Can you give me a hand, Gray?”
“Sure.” Graham followed Dale into the kitchen.
“They’re smitten with you,” Rosie announced when they were out of earshot.
“I feel terrible about taking their money. Look at this place; I feel like I should be paying them.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, Audrey,” she said, patting me on the knee. “They’re just thrilled to have found someone on such short notice. Besides,” she winked, “they won’t miss the money, if you know what I mean.”
I looked around at the lavishly decorated room and nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Well, hopefully I can make it up to them with the antiques.”
“That’s sweet of you, honey. They would really appreciate that.”
The two men came back with four slices of the Bombe Alaska served on bone china plates. Dale handed one to me along with a spoon.
“Dig in.”
“You’re in for a treat, Audrey,” said Rosie. “Dale makes the best Bombe Alaska.”
“I’d have to agree with you there,” said Graham.
I took a bite. It was phenomenal. The sponge was soft and sweet; the dark chocolate ice cream was a perfect companion to the orange-flavored meringue.
“Wow, this is amazing, Dale.”
“I don’t know why you won’t give me the recipe,” said Rosie, after taking a bite of hers.
“Sorry, darling, you know I promised my mother on her deathbed to keep it secret. Anything else you are welcome to.”
“I got my gooseberry pie recipe from Dale,” she explained.
“Really? I’m impressed!”
“Oh stop it,” Dale said, but he looked immensely pleased.
A few weeks later, Graham and Dale left on their trip, and I settled into the house. I was grateful to be out of the motel, and Apple was great company. When the weather was good, I took her for walks around the lake where we fed the ducks leftover bread and chatted with the locals. I often came across a lady with a German shepherd who recommended a good coffee shop just minutes away.
Spending time with the antiques turned out to be an unexpected joy. There was an assortment of furniture in the shed—tables, chairs, side cabinets, and writing desks that were old and tired, covered in dirt and dust. Dale and Graham had shown me how to bring them to life again using stiff brushes, old rags, and oil. The transformation was astonishing, and every new piece of furniture I worked on gave me a sense of pride and satisfaction.
Some days I stayed in working on my book of short stories, stopping every so often to admire the view. On the mantelpiece above the fire, I had put the snow globe Rad gave me that night at Blues Point Park. I often wished I could call him up and tell him I had made it to my little mountain town, that outside my window I could see mountains capped in snow, and that I was writing the book I had always wanted to write.