Page 12 of Rare Blend
“Should we go see it? Get you settled in?”
I arrived maybe ten minutes ago, and he’s already trying to push me out the door.
I assumed I would be meeting Jennifer and the kids today. I guess I assumed wrong. I plaster on a fake smile. “Sure, let’s do it.”
The cottages are a block away, bordering a vineyard. Ten identical homes with sage-green clapboard siding are scatteredacross the land, partially concealed by the tree-lined street. My dad parks along the sidewalk, and I pull in right behind him. Together, we walk toward the cottages, a knot of wariness tightening in my stomach with each step.
As we approach, I take in the steep gabbled roofs topped with rustic shingles and the weathered wooden shutters framing each window. A meandering gravel path winds from the entrance of the vineyard, connecting each cottage. We pause in front of the one marked with the number seven, and my dad jingles the keys in his hands with his brows raised in excitement. He unlocks the door, and it swings open with a soft creak.
The inside is a little outdated, but it’s clean and appears to have everything I’ll need. There’s a small kitchen and dining room off the side with a table and two chairs. The living room is simple, with a small couch, two accent chairs, and a TV. Off the living room is a bedroom with a decent-sized closet and the bathroom is your basic three-piece bath. The wall paint is faded and covered with awkward strips of wallpaper, and the cabinets are a yellowish maple, but the space is perfectly livable. All in all, I can’t complain.
“The only thing missing is a laundry setup, but you’re welcome to do your laundry any time over at our house.”
I nod, looking around.
I’m not sure how long I’ll be in Red Mountain, it all depends on my luck in getting a job. It could be a couple of weeks or months. Not having a definite end date is a little terrifying. How long can I go with my life on pause?
“What do you think?”
I give him a faint smile. “Love it. Thank you for making the arrangements. How much will this cost?”
He shakes his head. “Free of charge. They’re not active rentals anymore.”
“So, there isn’t anyone else staying in the other cottages?”
His forehead knits, and he shakes his head. “Not that I’m aware of.”
I’m not sure how I feel about staying somewhere without paying for it. And while the idea of having my own place to stay is nice, it’s kind of creepy to think I’m the only one out here, surrounded by empty little houses.
“I take it you have plenty to unload from your car?” he asks. “If you’re anything like your mother, I expect you packed a year’s worth of stuff.”
My eyes dart to him. My defenses tend to rise when either of my parents brings up the other. I tense, waiting for a negative comment that never comes. Instead, he continues on as if it’s normal to mention her in passing and not add on a snarky quip.
He’s not wrong about my overpacking, though. It takes us an hour to unload my car. Once we’ve gotten everything inside, it feels like the small cottage is going to bust. With my funds lacking, renting a storage unit was out of the question. It was either pack everything or get rid of stuff, and by the looks of it, I didn’t get rid of one thing.
He gives me a rundown of things to expect while I’m staying. Most of it goes in one ear and out the other, except the part when he mentions everything in town, besides a convenience store or two, shuts down at 9:00 p.m., and if I need anything past that hour, I’ll have to drive the thirty minutes it takes to get to Badger Canyon, the next town over. In Seattle, there’s always something open at any given hour. It’s going to take some time to adjust to living within the confines of small town life and without the amenities I’m used to.
“About your student loans,” my dad starts.
I wince just thinking about them.
“While you’re here, I would like to take over the payments.”
I’m already shaking my head before he can finish the sentence. “No way. You’re already doing more than enough. I don’t need to burden you with more.”
“Marisa,” he says in that patronizing tone I’m all too familiar with. “The purpose of you staying here is to get back on your feet. And that’s not going to come easy if you’re paying an exorbitant amount on that loan. I already have a meeting set with my financial guy to see about your options, and at the very least, try to find a way to lower the interest rate.”
His offer is nice—it’s more than nice—yet I feel like a child being scolded. He may have relaxed in this new life of his, but he’s still an expert at making me feel foolish.
Rather than answer him, for fear of my voice cracking, I simply nod as shame floods my skin with heat.
Thankfully, he doesn’t press me on the matter and changes the subject, inviting me to breakfast tomorrow morning. It’s an in-service day, meaning the kids won’t have school, so I’ll be meeting everyone at once. At that, he leaves, claiming I should take the rest of the day to get settled in. The stillness that emerges in his absence stirs my growing regret for making this move, however temporary it is.
With nothing but time on my hands, I shoot a text to Hillary, letting her know I made it safely and promising to call later. While my phone is still in my hands, I decide to call my mom, even though I haven’t been able to get through to her. I’m hoping she’s at least gotten the half-dozen voicemails I left her.
It rings for the first time since I’ve been trying to reach her, and a seed of hope starts to sprout that maybe this time, we’ll actually get to talk.
“Hi, mijita,” she greets, casually.
