Brook tidied the bathroom. Once finished, she moved back to the stove and heated a smaller pan of water so she could soak her feet.
As Brook went about her ablutions, Lance worked in his shop. He concentrated on his project, applying his skills with the utmost care. This was a job he didn’t want to botch. Finally, he returned to the kitchen, surreptitiously slipping a cloth-wrapped bundle onto one of the nearby shelves.
Taking a peek into the oven and inhaling deeply he commented, “Smells ready.” He glanced at Brook. “Are you done soaking?”
Brook pulled her feet from the pan and Lance moved to pick it up. 'Umm, you smell good,' he said, inhaling deeply. 'And your hair looks really nice.' He lifted the pan, took it to the tub and dumped it, and washed his hands. Returning to the kitchen he pulled the meal from the oven as Brook dried her feet and slipped on clean socks.
“Hold on a second,” Lance said, arresting Brook’s moves. “I have something for you.” He took the bundle from the shelf and hid it behind his back before approaching Brook. With a flourish, he whipped off the wrapping and presented her with a pair of handmade shoes. Her hands trembled as she took them from him.
“Oh,” she whispered. “They’re gorgeous. Did you make these?”
“Yes, I did,” he said. “I figured there was no way you could tromp around in my clodhoppers, and socks just aren’t warm enough on this stone floor, so I thought I’d put together a pair of moccasins for you. They’re lined in rabbit fur, so they’re extra soft. They should be easy on your feet. You know, for when you’re ready to do some walking.”
Brook hugged them to her chest. They were rich camel-colored on the outside, the interiors plush and supple with thick fur. “When did you do this?” she asked, amazed anew at the skills this man possessed.
“Oh, I've been working on them here and there, mostly while you were sleeping.”
“You’re kidding! You amaze me. Thank you, Lance,” she said, her eyes moist.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Here, let me help you. Let’s see if they fit.”
With extraordinary care, he eased one of her feet into a moccasin.
“I feel just like Cinderella,” Brook smiled.
“Well, these aren’t glass slippers,” Lance quipped.
“No, they’re better. Glass slippers wouldn’t be very practical up here in the mountains.”
Lance slid on the other shoe. They embraced her feet in cushioned warmth, a perfect fit. She took a few tentative steps across the stone floor, then walked slowly around the daybed. Her tender feet made their usual objections known, with darts of pain and soreness, but it was so much easier to walk with the shoes on.
“I love them,” she announced. “I just love them.” To have real shoes again was a luxury, something she had always taken for granted. To have shoes made especially for her by gentle caring hands was exquisite. She wasn’t sure which helped more, the shoes themselves or the fact that he cared enough to make them. Now she had three things. Brook was beginning to feel the pride of ownership once more, and all over a tiny tree, a pair of shoes, and her old beat up purse. While walking, she made a pass by the sink and washed her hands, readying for supper. She padded over to the table.
“Well, good then,” Lance said, reaching out a hand to steady her as she sat back down on the bench. “I’m glad.”
Brook wished she had something to give Lance. She determined that she would give him some kind of cash reward once she got out of this. He had been so kind to her and all she had done in return was twist his life around, cause him extra work and inconvenience. Remembering their previous conversations, she realized that cash meant nothing to this man. He had plenty of money, buried out here somewhere. Then Brook had an idea. She would surprise him with a meal one of these times when he went out. She
Lance smiled back. He was happy, he realized.
The warm glow stayed with him throughout their meal.
Afterwards, he pushed their dishes aside and said, “I’ll clean up later. I thought you might like a tour of my humble abode, if you’re up to a little exploring. Think your feet can handle it?” He rose from the bench and came over to her side.
“Let’s give it try,” Brook said. Her natural curiosity was coming back, and she wanted to see what was behind the curtain. She stood and Lance offered her his arm.
“The first time I tried to tell you about my cold pantry, you couldn’t have been less interested. Maybe you could bear with me this time while I brag a little. I’m really quite impressed with myself for the way it turned out.”
“I guess I don’t remember the first time you tried to show it to me,” she said.
“That’s because you were busy planning your ‘great escape’.” Lance smiled down at her and she felt her heart do a small flip. They walked to the kitchen and he opened the pantry door. Icy air rolled over them as he explained the principle behind the design of the cold storage. “By keeping the walls really thin, it stays pretty damn cold in there. And it’s bigger than almost any refrigerator on the market, except for maybe industrial ones.” She admired the small room, honestly impressed with not only his handiwork, but also with the amount of food stored there. “It’s a good feeling having this thing full, I can tell you that,” he said. She understood his sentiments exactly. She too found comfort in the sight of its well-stocked shelves.
He closed the door and led her past the stove and sink area to the curtained doorway. “You haven’t seen my bedroom or workroom yet. I think you’ll find them interesting.”
“You have a bedroom?” Brook paused outside the curtain. “I thought I was sleeping in your bed.”
“I should be so lucky,” Lance murmured, only half-kidding. At the shocked look on Brook’s face, he quickly said, “I’m sorry. That was totally inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said it.”
Brook gathered her composure. Yes, she had been shocked. But not outraged, just taken by surprise. It had been a while since a man had openly flirted with her. Feeling reckless, she tossed her head and looked him in the eye.
“Why not?” she challenged. “Didn’t you mean it?”
Now, Lance was surprised. He stammered a bit before she let him off the hook with a grin. “I can tease, too,” she said. “Don’t worry so much, Lance. I can handle a little good-natured banter now and again.” He exhaled his relief. So, it was okay after all if he joked with her. Trouble was; he wasn’t entirely joking.
“Anyway, it’s good to know you have a bed. I pictured you sleeping on a pallet in a walk-in closet or something. I felt really guilty for taking your bed. And other times, I thought you had been sitting around in that closet in order to give me some privacy.”
Lance laughed lightly. “No need for guilt,” he said. “I have a very comfortable room and a big soft bed of my own with plenty of warm blankets. You’ll see; come on.”
He held the curtain back for her. She entered his bedroom, Lance right behind her.
“Wait right here,” he told her. She stared into the shadows until he turned up the lantern on the bedside table. He then reached up and pressed a button on the battery powered ceiling lamp and the shadows fled.
“Wow,” she said as her eyes took in the tree trunk stretching from floor to ceiling in the corner of the room. “I mean wow. What else is there to say?”
“I didn’t want to remove the tree, so I built around it.”
Lance’s bed sat under a shuttered window, the tree on one side and a small nightstand on the other. The mattress was covered in a beautiful quilt that featured the same strong colors as the rugs in the living area.
“That blanket is gorgeous!” Brook exclaimed.
“Thanks,” Lance said. “I got it from the same lady who sells my jewelry and sculptures. Handmade by a local craftswoman. She does fine work. I like to buy stuff from Denise whenever I can, and keep money in the local economy as much as possible. The Outpost is a great venue for Colorado artists, potters, and other crafters.”
“Sounds like a shop I would like,” Brook said, still looking around. A couple of books sat on the nightstand next to the lantern, and several pegs on the wall held some of Lance’s outerwear. He turned her gently, and she noticed a small open closet built into the wall behind her. One side had shelves that held folded clothes and bedding, and the other had a short clothes rod with more clothing hanging from it. Several pairs of shoes lined the
