I slid inside and turned the key in the ignition, gnawing the inside of my cheek to keep from crying as I pulled away, leaving Tito and his heated scowl in my rearview mirror.
“Aw, Stevie. Don’t cry. I can’t deal with you crying more than once a year at Christmas, when you make me watch all those stupid Hallmark movies. C’mon, Buckaroo, chin up,” Belfry said softly, crawling from my purse to shimmy along my arm and settle on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Stevie. But I promise you, Tito will rue the day.”
Sniffling, I shook my head. “I know I’m letting it get to me. But it’s Tito…” My voice cracked. “He’s the nicest man on the planet and he thinks I’m a hardcore killer. I don’t know why that hurts so much, but it sure stings. I think I need to regroup. Just give me a few minutes at home to catch my breath before we have to meet Mr. Lipton at the police station, and I promise I’ll be rarin’ to go.”
Win cleared his throat, his warm aura somehow warmer. “Take all the time you need, Stevie. You’ve had a rough morning.”
As I drove down the road that took me to the house, I smiled my gratitude. Flying past the Sound, which normally brought me such joy, I all but ignored it, so caught up in what to do next.
Enzo’s truck was at the bottom of the mudslide we called a driveway, the bed filled with two-by-fours. Well, that was something anyway. Maybe I’d actually have a wall to hang a picture on.
I slipped my heels off and pulled on my work boots, preparing to make the arduous climb to the front porch. I didn’t say anything more—at this point, I was just too deflated. Though, the sight of the porch, and the holes now covered in protective plywood, did give me hope.
I pushed the door open to the tune of Tony Bennett and the sound of a drill. “It’s just me, Enzo!” I yelled before kicking off my boots and heading up the staircase.
The drill stopped for a brief moment then returned to its droning. Trudging down the long hallway to my bedroom, the plan was to maybe grab a quick bath, relax before I had to attend my flaying at the police station.
When I rounded the corner, I stopped dead and gasped in surprise.
“Do you like it?” Win grumbled in my ear.
It was a bed. A bed every girl who likes a cozy nook to bury herself in dreams of. I almost couldn’t move my feet into the room to approach it.
“Oh, Win,” I whispered tearfully. “It’s beautiful.”
It was like nothing I’d ever seen before. Built directly into the wall where the windows faced the Sound, was the most amazing queen-size bed I’d ever seen. Fashioned like a huge window seat, the entrance was hexagon-shaped, framed with crisp white molding on top and edged on either side of the entry to the mattress with scrolled brackets. Beneath the bed, there were three drawers with matching scrollwork along the bottom.
As I approached and looked closer, I inhaled. Inside this heavenly creation where I’d rest my head was a plump mattress with a blue and white chintz comforter and tons of fluffy pillows to match. All around the interior of this peaceful nook, including around the white, thickly framed trio of windows, wainscoting had been installed and painted a pale lemon.
But the best part of this magnificent structure was the pure white bookcase directly above the headboard, built into the nook’s wall and harboring one lone hydrangea and plenty of room for some of my favorite gardening books.
It was like coming home to a warm hug, and I didn’t know how to say thank you.
“Enzo’s got a stained-glass pane coming to place in the center window. But I hoped this would do for now.”
“Do?” I squeaked, fighting more tears. “It’s amazing. It’s the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Hey!” Belfry chimed from my shoulder. “Did you forget the Best Birthday Gift Ever of 2003?”
I giggled a watery sound. “How could I forget my Madonna tickets and neon-green scrunchie?”
“I’m rather sure I’ll never be able to top that, Belfry,” Win assured.
“Darn right you won’t, Winterbutt. I’m going to catch a power nap, folks. Wake me when we’re ready to take this guy down.” Belfry slid from my shoulder and headed to the broad-leaf plants in the bathroom.
I sat at the edge of the bed and wiggled my toes. “Win, this was too kind of you. I don’t know how you knew something like this would appeal to me, but it rocks.”
“Bah. There was something about a vision board in your old apartment, an uncomfortable futon, the colors pale yellow and blue, and your love of the water. It was nothing, really.”
He’d been talking to my spirits again. I didn’t understand this man. One minute he was as brisk as a wintry wind, the next, warm as a tropical island. Complex and infuriating, delightful and considerate.
“Who made this in such a short time?”
“Enzo, of course. And his sons, Tomasso and Patritzio. They own a mill and woodworking shop here in Seattle. Beautiful place. Madam Zoltar helped me find a picture from the description I had and she placed the order for me.”