Page 52 of Where It All Began
“Enough,” she breathed, sliding her hands under his shirt.
Chapter Nineteen
Elvira’s house was a tiny, salmon pink cottage on the outskirts of town. Her lot was large and wooded, making the one-story home look even smaller under the arching oaks and birch trees.
Phoebe and John followed the meandering sidewalk through hosta plants and ferns, past a grouping of mischievous gnomes dressed as The Beatles, to the covered front stoop.
“I think Pierce Acres needs a gnome,” Phoebe said, slipping her arm through John’s as he pressed the bell.
“I think a gnome is the last thing Pierce Acres needs,” John said affably.
They heard footsteps from within, and Phoebe leaned in closer. “By the way, Elvira knows we slept together. Hi, El!”
She felt John tense beside her and jumped at the pinch he inflicted on her ass.
“Come on in. Hazel’s already here. We’re out back.”
John held the door for Phoebe and Elvira pressed a wine glass into her hand. “Beer’s in the fridge, John,” Elvira said, leading the way through a postage stamp-sized living room with floor-to-ceiling bookcases bowing under their literary load.
There was a small fish tank with two colorful fish and a scuba diver that took up most of the sideboard in a dining room cozy enough to hold a table for four very good friends who didn’t mind sitting on top of each other.
The kitchen was miniscule, but each inch of counter and cabinet were organized for efficiency.
Elvira, dressed in an off-the-shoulder gauze tunic and denim shorts, pushed through the screen door and Phoebe sighed with pleasure. The cottage’s back deck had more square footage than the house itself. A beefy farmhouse table with seating for eight took up most of the top tier of the deck. Next to it, a cozy screened-in porch looked like the perfect place to spend a rainy day reading.
Strings of lights raced from the roof of the house out into the yard to the trunk of a massive oak and back again, bathing the yard in a soft glow.
The landscaping, more of everything, overflowed from large beds and made Phoebe think of the jungle. There were colorful pots of herbs and flowers scattered around the deck, a hammock tucked away in the corner of the yard, a fire pit, and a whimsical fountain.
“Wow, El. This is spectacular,” Phoebe breathed.
“Home sweet home,” Elvira said. “You good on wine, Hazel?” she called to the woman lounging on a chaise.
Hazel tilted her head in their direction. “Shh, I think I’m meditating.”
“I heard you snore a minute ago. That’s not meditating. That’s napping,” Elvira said, cheerfully topping off Hazel’s glass.
“I got called in to the park at 3 a.m. this morning to help Linus Fitzsimmons find the clothes he took off after drinking too much punch,” she yawned.
Phoebe wondered what kind of a man little Billy would turn into with that kind of father.
“Anybody home?” Michael’s voice carried from the front door back through the house.
“Out back,” Elvira hollered. “I didn’t tell him you were coming,” she whispered conspiratorially to Hazel.
Michael, toting two six packs, waltzed through the backdoor wearing a fitted Blue Moon Fire Department t-shirt and jeans. “Pierce, you forget where you keep your razor,” he asked rubbing a hand over his own clean-shaven jaw.
Before John could fire back an insult, Michael spotted Hazel reclining like a goddess on her chair. He missed the step and went down hard.
John rescued one of the six-packs before it hit the deck and grinned.
“Oh, that was worth it,” Elvira whispered to Phoebe. “You okay, there Michael?”
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They pulled up chairs around the chaise that Hazel had abandoned so Michael could elevate his swollen ankle. She’d even applied the first aid herself, wrapping his ankle in a snug Ace bandage and topping it with a bag of ice.
Phoebe leaned into John’s side as everyone unwrapped their subs. “I think he literally just fell for her.” She snickered at her own humor, and John gave her a dry look. “Oh, come on. That’s funny.”
