even looked in the windows yet.”
* * *
Devon led the way to Laine’s rental. They drove down the main street, past what seemed to amount to the entire commercial district of Thunder Point, took a left and entered a residential neighborhood. A woman who appeared altogether too dressed up exited her BMW in front of a very small house that sat in the middle of about a dozen nondescript houses. The foliage and pines surrounding the little house were deep green even though it was the dead of winter. Virginia or Boston at this time of year would be covered with snow and the trees bare.
Laine was a little shocked at how ordinary and dumpy the little house looked; she had never seen a picture of the front exposure. It seemed very small. There was an ordinary white door with a diamond-shaped window in it and one front window. If this were her house she’d paint the door dark green and add identically colored shutters to that window.
Laine parked, got out and stretched a hand toward the Realtor. “Ms. Dysart?” she asked.
“Call me Ray Anne. So nice to finally meet you, Laine.” She dangled house keys. “I think you’re going to love this. Please, do the honors.”
With Ray Anne close on her tail and Devon following, Laine stepped into the small house and entered a whole new world. Right inside the front door was a spacious foyer and the house opened up before her. To her left, an open staircase and small powder room, to her right, a small and unfurnished room with louvered double doors, perfect for Laine to use as an office. Straight ahead was a great room with a large picture window. To the left of the great room was a big open kitchen with a dining area in front of a matching window. Dividing the two windows were French doors that Ray Anne immediately opened, revealing a very large deck and a view of the bay that just about knocked Laine out. She inhaled deeply, appreciatively. She walked outside to the railing and looked down—the deck sat atop a rocky hill.
“You can’t get to the beach from here,” Ray Anne said from behind her. “There really isn’t much beach—only a little when the tide’s out. You’ll have to go down the street and back through town to the marina. This is considered oceanfront. The only beachfront in Thunder Point is over there, where Cooper is building. Most of us thought there would never be any building there, but Cooper has a plan for maybe as many as twenty single-family residences. The rest of us po’ folk have to get to the beach either from his bar or the marina. This is the north promontory. Straight across there, that’s the south promontory. The previous owner, the guy who left it to Cooper in his will, had always wanted it to be a nature preserve, safe for the wildlife. Much as I’d like him to cut it up and let me sell lots for him, you have to admit it’s beautiful.”
“Beautiful,” Laine said in a breath. A few trees growing right out of the rocks and hillside below her deck reached up so that their branches brushed the railing. They needed trimming so they wouldn’t obstruct her view.
“It’s so wet and cold right now I didn’t uncover the grill or deck furniture. I thought I’d leave that to you. You might not want to sit outside in this weather.”
Laine looked around for the first time. It looked like she had a table and four chairs, a chaise and a rather large grill under the weatherproof drapes. Laine turned and went inside again, taking note of the great room, divided from the kitchen by a breakfast bar. The pictures had done the interior more credit than it deserved. There was a maroon sofa, two uncomfortable-looking rattan chairs, a nice fireplace and zero homey touches. The breakfast nook held a beat-up but large table with eight cane-back chairs. There was a short hall that led to a laundry room, pantry and interior garage door.
“Bedroom?” she asked.
“Right this way,” Ray Anne said, leading her back toward the front door and up the stairs. Laine and Devon followed along. At the top of the stairs was a set of double doors that stood open to expose a rather small but comfortable-looking master bedroom. Not a suite, but a bedroom. One queen-size bed, one bureau, one bedside table and a fireplace. But it had a triple-wide set of sliding glass doors and a small deck again with the most stunning view. Laine was drawn to it. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head at a vision of sitting against big pillows, looking out the window at the clouds, only the fireplace lighting the room.
Falling asleep with the light of the fireplace in the room held a special appeal. Since the shooting, she’d left a light on at night. She never told anyone.
“When the weather gets exciting, watching the lightning over the bay is like a fireworks show,” Ray Anne said. “Around here, it’s all about the view. There are a lot of views in this town. Some have the view in front, some in back, some up the hill, some closer to the water, sometimes from big houses and sometimes from little ones.” Ray Anne stepped to one side. “Bath,” she said, indicating a very functional master bath, dressing area and closet. There was a glassed-in shower, large spa-style tub and wide closet with built-in drawers and shelves.
Laine merely glanced, then her eyes were drawn back to that view again. Devon was oohing and aahing over the size of the master bath and closet space.
“There are two bedrooms down the hall with a jack-and-jill bathroom dividing them. The owner has queen-size beds in each. Storage is limited. They’re small bedrooms but the sofa downstairs pulls out—the house can sleep at least eight. The owners wanted a place for their children and grandchildren to visit. Linen closet across the hall from the master. Downstairs front closet under the stairs. You have a two-car garage,” Ray Anne said as she continued the tour.
And only a few rather tacky prints on the walls, no little touches of home, no plants, of course, and the lamps had been around a long time, Laine thought.
“I had a cleaning crew come through—the carpet is shampooed, bathrooms and kitchen scoured, clean sheets on the beds, some towels on hand. The carpet is fairly new. I don’t know what your plans are for the house, but it will accommodate a large group.”
Laine looked at her in some surprise. “My plan is to live in it.”
“Oh! Wonderful! Are you planning to work around here?”
She shrugged. “I’ll probably do a little computer work. I’m actually on leave from a government job but I can do some work from here—you know, clerical stuff. I had a pretty serious shoulder surgery and with all my vacation and good benefits and—”
“I hope it wasn’t rotator cuff,” Ray Anne said, moving her own shoulder up and down. “That’s the worst! I had that surgery a few years ago and it’s hell, that’s all I can say. It’s fine now but I thought it would take forever!”
Devon met Laine’s eyes, but didn’t comment. She just stood in the master bedroom and looked out at the rock-studded bay.
Laine was thinking about other things, like what the place would feel like with a nicer sofa, with a throw on it for winter nights in front of the fire. And how about some accent tables, designer lighting, paintings on the walls, books on her own bookshelves? Her own sheets and towels and some of her favorite cookware and dishes? And her mother’s small kitchen breakfront, her treasure.
She turned to Ray Anne. “Did you ask the owners if they mind that I store their furnishings and use my own? Of course I’ll cover the cost of packing, moving and storing their things.”
“They said that’s fine as long as their things aren’t damaged.” Ray Anne shrugged. “I can’t imagine how they’d ever know if anything was damaged. This stuff is adequate but old. In fact, as long as you pay your deposit and rent on time and put the place back the way you found it when your lease is up, there
