“I mean like did you graduate from Port Harbor High? It’s been a while now, but you look kinda like a girl that was on the dance team with me?” Layla cocked her head and rocked back on her heels.
“Nope, no Port Harbor and definitely no dance club.” Juliet felt infinitely relieved. She’d take a member of the dance team over the wife of a serial killer any day of the week.
“It’ll come to me. Or not!” Layla laughed. Then she looped her arm through Juliet’s and led her straight through the door. “I think you are going to love the house! I’m afraid it’s all a little dated, and full disclosure, it hasn’t been given a thorough cleaning in a while. You may have to scrub a bit, but I’ll take off some of the rent for that, and there is a closet full of cleaning stuff. You’ll find the house cool in the summer and warm in the winter. There’s a nice fireplace in the main living space and a cord of wood is stacked around the side of the house if you’d like to use it, feel free. But no worries about the heat, everything has been updated…furnace…water heater…wiring. And of course, it comes furnished. There’s a satellite dish for cable television and a flat screen in the living room. You can get cell service and wi-fi out here, but both can be a little tricky at times. Are you okay with everything so far?” Layla took a deep breath then exhaled loudly, as if exhausted by her own exuberance.
Juliet listened to Layla with rapt attention and more than a little fascination. Her circle of friends had usually been more the staid, somewhat sober, intellectual type. Layla was about as far from staid and sober as one could get. She had a warm, whimsical way about her. Carefree might be the right word to describe what seemed to be Layla’s laissez-faire attitude. Layla’s looks were fresh and clean with her white blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. But it was her voice that Juliet liked most of all. She talked like someone who knew a wonderful secret and couldn’t wait to share. Layla’s words tumbled merrily like dancing water over smooth rocks.
“I can be a motor mouth, I know.” She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. “Reggie is after me all the time about the way I go on and on. But I always tell him that it’s better to get it all out in one fell swoop instead of beating around the bush! Okay, then! Let’s take a look at the house! After that I can show you the backyard. I’ll give you some time to check out things on your own, and then we can talk business!” Layla continued her chatter as she pushed a key into the deadbolt.
Juliet’s first impression was a sense of warmth and comfort. It was like the sturdy beams and heavy logs wrapped their arms around her and whispered welcome home. She could not help but release a long pent up sigh, to which Layla nodded knowingly and said, “I know, right?”
The room had an open floor plan typical of log homes. It smelled a little musty, and the windows had lost their shine. The heavy curtains sagged under a thick layer of dust and the Naugahyde couches were beginning to dry and crack. But the cushions were deep and inside the hearth of the field stone fireplace sat bright birch logs that were just waiting to crackle and spark. The whole kitchen looked like it had been used as a set for a 1960’s television show with its aqua and cream chrome table set, matching appliances and patterned linoleum tile. Hung on the knotty pine paneling was one of those crazy cat clocks with the swinging tail and roving eyes.
The upstairs area was large and filled with lots of natural light. There were two oval skylights embedded in the ceiling and a pair of large double pane windows. The queen sized bed was covered in white eyelet; its head and foot boards were made from a whimsical wrought iron bed frame. In the center of the room sat a huge colorful rug, while a white wicker settee and matching chairs were grouped together in a corner. Juliet walked over and perused the titles in the bookshelf. To her delight, she found a whole shelf dedicated to the delicious works of Mary Stewart’s Crystal Cave series. She could hardly wait to curl up with the tales of King Arthur and his knights while the rest of the world washed away like the rocks in the stream below.
On closer inspection everything was a little bedraggled and showed wear…the edges of the rug were frayed; the comforter had thinned in places, and the curtains were faded. The white wicker needed to be repainted and had splintered in places.
Juliet loved it.
Best of all there was a slider that led out to a small deck that sat in the treetops. It overlooked a large, wooded area and a quickly running stream. Beyond the ribbon of water, Juliet could see the windows of a cabin sitting on top of the next hill. She frowned slightly.
“Does anybody live there? Up in that cabin beyond the tree line?”
“Yes, that’s P.J.’s place. I know what you’re thinking, the views are so much better up on that hill. But if you’re looking for a quiet place…a soft place to land. This is it.”
“A soft place to land?”
“Yeah, you know a place to gather your wits, calm your spirit, free your soul. Your do-over place.”
“Do-over?” Juliet’s response was at once hopeful, yet dubious. “Thought those things were like… uh…urban legends.”
“Oh no.” Layla shook her head. “They are real, for sure. Never underestimate the power of the all mighty do-over. In fact, you’re looking at one.”
“One what?”
“A do-over.
