1105 Yakima Street - Debbie Macomber [117]
“Mom,” Will had said, “you’ve go to do something with all this dead relatives’ furniture. I have my own stuff—I don’t need it.”
“I can’t just get rid of it,” Charlotte had moaned.
In the end, they fit what they could into the small apartment and what didn’t fit was doled out to him, Olivia and Justine, with a few pieces held back for James. That appeared to satisfy Charlotte. All she wanted was to know that those antique sofas and chairs and cabinets would be loved and treasured the way they’d once been. They wouldn’t have the same sentimental value for him or Olivia, but he wouldn’t sell them on eBay, either.
A good portion of what hadn’t been allocated was stored in his basement. It could stay there indefinitely as far as Will was concerned. Being single and without children, he hadn’t accumulated a lot of possessions, other than basic furniture, a TV and so on.
“You talked to Mom?” Will asked his sister.
“I did. She’s doing all right so far.”
“And Ben?”
“Him, too.”
The transfer of the house on Eagle Crest was a simple matter of a few signatures and a check. The house was in good shape, especially with the new kitchen. Will was happy to return to his childhood home, and even happier to be helping his mother and Ben. He’d come full circle, he mused. He’d lived in this old house during his childhood, and now he was back. With this move came a sense of rightness, of completion. He’d been away from Cedar Cove for most of his adult life, had faltered and failed. He’d disappointed himself. Moving home had given him a fresh start, a new perspective, a chance to become the man he’d always wanted to be.
Miranda’s decision to rent his small apartment might not be the best plan, he thought. Will frowned slightly. He had a real love-hate relationship with his assistant. She was an asset to the gallery and he’d come to rely on her knowledge of art and of the community. Half the time he was convinced she couldn’t stand the sight of him. Then she’d do something to throw him off balance—like kissing him. If that wasn’t shocking enough, he’d kissed her, too. And enjoyed it.
Miranda Sullivan wasn’t like any of the women he’d been attracted to in the past. Including Shirley… In fact, she was their opposite. That confused him, although he tried not to think about it. Sometimes he and Miranda laughed at the same things; sometimes they had lively discussions. Since they were together practically every day, it was understandable that they’d grown comfortable with each other. They’d developed a mutual respect—and maybe even a fondness.
“You’re frowning,” Olivia commented. “Are you worried about Mom?”
“No…I was thinking about Miranda.”
“She’s still taking the apartment, isn’t she?”
“So she said.”
Her sister eyed him warily. “Then why the frown?”
“No real reason,” he said, dismissing the question. Actually, he’d prefer not to discuss Miranda. It was hard enough to analyze his own feelings about her, let alone explain them to anyone else.
As soon as Charlotte and Ben walked out of the elevator, their mother broke into a huge grin. “I’m so glad you’re both here.”
“We arranged this earlier, Mom,” Olivia reminded her as she kissed their mother’s cheek. She caught Will’s eye. Charlotte would continue to suffer memory lapses. The appointment with the gerontologist was in January. Then they’d know the extent of her memory loss and what, if anything, could be done.
“But I was talking about the singing. There’ll be home-baked cookies and old-fashioned wassail.”
“We have the papers for you to sign, too,” Olivia said. “For the sale of the house.”
“Yes, yes, I know, but does that need to be done right away?”
“I’d like to get everything in order. It won’t take long, I promise.” Olivia had her briefcase; fortunately, as a lawyer, she was qualified to handle the paperwork.
Charlotte looked at Ben. “I don’t want to be late for the singing.”
“Your mother has a lovely voice,” Ben told them, as if they weren’t aware of