Coming Home (Pierpoint View #1)

Chapter Two - Summer

CHAPTER TWO

Summer

I follow my tour guide to the empty store, the windows are covered in newspaper, the window frames are painted a soft pink and the outside walls are covered in the same clapboard as the other buildings, this one is painted in a white wash, exactly how I would paint it if I had the choice. It’s cute, subtle against the brighter colors of the other storefronts on the strip.

Before I can take in any more, the door is whipped open to reveal two men with beaming faces. “Brooks! We heard your truck! We weren’t expecting you but it sure is always a good surprise,” the younger looking of the two men says, pulling Brooks into a huge hug.

Brooks. Suits him.

Just as Brooks peels himself away from the first guy the other wraps him in his arms too. “You should come home more often, seeing your pretty face on the big screen is not the same.” The slightly older one pulls away with a tap on Brooks’ cheek. I wonder what they mean by big screen?

Before I can ask, Brooks clears his throat and gestures to me with a nod of his head. “I believe I have the person you were expecting. ”

The men both look my way at that, the second man gasping, but the smiles on their faces never letting up, not once.

“Summer! Look at you, you’re here!” The second man says, “I’m John, this here is Stevie,” he says, placing his hand on the first mans arm.

“The Taylors?” I ask, my own smile breaking across my face at their attitude. This is exactly the welcome I needed after today, so much so that I can feel a burning in my throat and stinging behind my eyes at the affection in their voices.

“The ones and only, now come here.” Stevie pushes past Brooks, nearly knocking him completely out of the way, and envelopes me in his arms with as much vigor as he did Brooks, John then coming to do the same. I relish in their hugs and trying to push away the thought of my how the last time I felt this safe and cared for was in my Nan’s arms as she gave me the go ahead to leave her behind to start again.

“I guess I’ll leave you to it. I’m home until next season I think so if you need me, I’m here.” Brooks says to the Taylors, brushing past us as John pulls away from me, rounding his truck and pulling my things out of the back and placing them on the pavement next to us.

“We’ll catch up later, we can talk about Lennon,” Stevie says, with a knowing look on his face.

Brooks sighs, lifts his cap to ruffle his hair and replaces it in one swift move. “Yeah, we should.” He nods before waving to the two men and me and walking back with that slight limp still and backing up the truck and taking the road back the way we came.

“Okay, let’s bring these suitcases in for you and we’ll show you the place,” John says after watching Brooks leave. He grabs my bags and heads inside, Stevie and I following close behind.

The two men take me through the open front door, into the empty store and John places my suitcases off to the side.

“We’ll bring these up for you once we’ve shown you the place,” says John and I nod in agreement.

Plain white walls, rustic wooden floors that creak under foot with every step into the store. The only thing in here is a counter towards the back of the room, with a staircase leading upstairs behind it. “So one thing you should know,” John says as he takes us round the counter and up the stairs, fetching a collection of keys out of his front pocket. “This is the entrance to the apartment, not ideal, we know, but it’s empty for now. If anything changes we’ll let you know well in advance don’t you worry.”

Stevie interjects, “It’s been empty a while so I can’t imagine it will happen anytime soon in any case.”

“What did it use to be before?” I ask.

“It used to be a cafe but it closed down when the owner of the coffee shop passed about 10 years ago now, we haven’t really wanted any one else in here since.” They must have really liked the previous owner to keep this empty for that long. I can’t say I wouldn’t be mad if it became something like that again, waking up to the smell of coffee and baked goods every morning, it was my favorite thing about working in a coffee shop a couple years ago.

In all honesty, I’m just happy that I have my own place. It could be a cave down on the beach for all I cared at this point. Getting away from my old life and moving here was never going to be easy, but this apartment and the Taylors and I guess, Brooks — despite our rocky first interaction — have made the transition easier on me than I could have hoped for.

“Well, if another cafe were to open up again down here, I’d be more than happy with that!”

“We’ll keep that in mind!”

John leads us through my front door into a tiny entryway, with a small nook immediately to the left with shelving and a window looking out on to the back of the property and what looks like a little allotment to grow some fresh veges. Immediately to the right is a long corridor with those same wooden floors and white walls continuing through into my apartment, however inside the apartment theres a beautifully soft cream carpet running along the center of the hallway, where, through a set of French doors, I can see a large bay window with soft light filtering through making my heart give a little blip thinking about the days I can spend sitting on a bench underneath with a book in one hand, tea in the other, listening to the sound of the ocean through an open window.

“So, Sweets, it’s nothin’ too fancy here, but down here is your living space,” John explains as he starts walking down the long hallway. He points to the first doorway on the left, “Bathroom,” he points to the next left, “Bedroom, its pretty small, but this more than makes up for it, don’t you think, Stevie?” John says, with a massive grin directed Stevie and I’s way.

“It’s my favorite room in all of our properties,” Stevie agrees.

He walks us through the French doors into a large, open plan kitchen and living room. Straight ahead is the living area, now I’m in here I can see the bay window has white shutters with a sun carved into them and plenty of space in front for the reading bench of my dreams. Now that is a book nook if I ever saw one.

“The fireplace is a cute fixture but it’s non functional, sorry Sweets,” John apologizes.

“Oh, that’s okay.” Truth be told, I hadn’t even noticed the fireplace.

On my left is the kitchen. The counter tops are all the same wood as the floors, but the cabinetry is the same style as the shutters from the bay window, white with little suns carved around each of the cabinet door handles. There’s a dreamy feel flooding the apartment, it’s bright, airy despite the less than optimum weather conditions outside.

“It’s a little basic but it’s yours to spice up as you like, I believe you agreed on the price of rent with Stevie via email? Is it reasonable?” John asks looking between Stevie and I. I had wondered over to the kitchen, running my hands over the butchers block island.

“Yes, totally reasonable! More than reasonable, actually.” Stevie had definitely low-balled me, despite my insistence. They didn’t even entertain the idea of changing their offer, and to be honest, I’ll be eternally grateful. It’s bloody expensive moving country and who knows when I’ll be able to get a job.

“Perfect! We’ll bring up your cases and let you get settled then!”

After John and Stevie leave, I take my suitcases to the bedroom to unpack. They were right, the bedroom is small but there’s a queen size bed pushed against one wall and a hanging rail on the opposite wall for my clothes with a shelf on top inside an alcove. Luckily, I had to pack light. I unpack the clothes, toiletries that I had bought with me, knowing that I’d at least want the necessities for my first few days here. Standing looking at my new bedroom with my measly amount of belongings in it gives me hope. Hope for a better future for me, one of my own making. And the first step to doing that, I think, is taking a long hot shower.

Nothing beats a shower to really cleanse you, not just physically but mentally and emotionally too. Along with the dirt and grime from the day, I can feel the stress being washed away down the drain and I let myself bask in that feeling. I feel like I can finally relax.

It also helps that I’m finally out of those soaking wet clothes. They did end up drying a little but with the humidity here, it was fast becoming sticky.

I silently praise myself for having the forethought to unpack before having a shower, as I’m changing into pajamas, well and truly drained from the day, I want nothing more than to fall into bed. As I’m pulling the clothes off the hanger, a photo that must have been folded in between them falls out. It’s of me and my Grandma at my prom when I finished high school, I was 16 and it had just been the worst year of my life. She was the only family I had left after my parents died and Grandma Lina raised me the best she could until I’m pretty sure her I failed her the day I packed up and moved out of her cozy, little cottage into a penthouse apartment with the love of my life.

I was 19 and he was definitely not the love of my life.

There wasn’t much from the life I had before I moved that I’d have wanted to keep with me, except my Grandma, but she couldn’t make it over here, and besides, poor Gerald down the street would throw a fit if his eye candy — his words not mine — ever left.

If I couldn’t have my Gran then this is the next best thing, so I pick up the photo and place it on the shelf above the fireplace in the living room. My grandma’s favorite thing about her cottage was being able to sit in front of the open fireplace reading her books, so this spot feels like the perfect place for her. I guess that’s where I got my love of reading from too.

Other than the necessities and that photo, the only other thing I brought with me were the five books that I’d already stacked on the window ledge of the bay window. Growing my collection of books back in England was one of the only things that kept me sane the last couple of years and bringing a measly five books with me out of the hundreds I’d hoarded was heartbreaking to say the least. That was the only good thing about my ex was that he let me have a library; but I’ll take my five books over being back there any day.

With a deep breath, I turn and face my new home. With my back to the fireplace, I can see the whole expanse of the room. The apartment came partially furnished, so along with my bed, came a sofa, a coffee table and the stools at the kitchen island, as well as the kitchen appliances, which is good. I can live with that for a bit while I try and figure out how to navigate my new life, a new job and friends eventually too. It still feels so surreal, and I don’t think it’s sunk in yet that I’m here. That I’m safe.

And scared.

God, I’m scared, terrified.

But safe.