Coming Home to the Mountain: Complete Edition

6. Hank

CHAPTER 6

Hank

“ T his is a charming little townhouse, right next to downtown,” the realtor says. She’s an older woman in her fifties, and seems nice enough.

“I’m going to just skip that one,” I reply. Fig and I are being driven around town. “Townhouses aren’t really for me.”

“How come? Aren’t you a single man?”

I look at Fig. “For now, I am, but I’m planning on the long-term. Besides, I want a place with a nice big yard. Something a dog can run around freely in, or where I could build one of those things… you know, with the monkey bars on the playground? With the bridge and slide? What do you call them when they're just in your backyard?”

“I believe they’re just called playsets, sir. Even when they’re just in your backyard.”

“Then yeah, one of those. Whatever they're called. I need space, and a townhouse ain’t going to cut it.”

The realtor nods along. “We’ll go to the outskirts then, sir. I didn’t know you were planning that far ahead for yourself.”

My hand is around Fig’s shoulder. She’s quiet and nervous. I know she’s covering something up, because I’ve seen her out of her shell and that version of her is a whole lot sexier.

“You never know how fast things will happen. I’m just being prepared.”

The realtor looks at me, and then Fig, via the rearview mirror. She’s making assumptions about us, and I’m in no rush to correct her.

We roll into the countryside just outside of town and stop at a cottage home. It’s by no means massive, but it has a few bedrooms and looks the part for a family home.

“That’s quite the cute little cottage there,” Fig says.

“Old and durable construction,” the realtor says. “It’s been on the market for a bit, but I don’t think it’s because of the quality.”

“Then why hasn’t it been bought?” I ask.

“The younger generation is more citybound, I suppose. Wanting a big house with a yard, two and a half kids, and a dog isn’t the norm anymore. Especially in a small town like Home.”

“I’d love to live in a place like this,” Fig says as she steps out of the car.

“Really?” I say, rising to meet her. “After all your time in Los Angeles you’re eyeballing this quaint country cabin?”

“Why does everyone just assume I’m a big city girl now? Like I’m going to wilt and die if I don’t have a bodega within a half mile of me?”

“The nearest store is the grocer in Home,” the realtor says, trying to be helpful but mostly being background noise.

“You’ve spent four years there. Thought you had a taste for it.”

“I spent four years there for my education, Hank. I wasn’t going to get a fashion degree at the local community college.”

“Fair.”

“I spent long enough in LA to have a taste of it. And maybe I spent long enough there to realize that I don’t want to spend my life like that. Maybe that’s what some people want, but I realized I’m not those people.”

This sudden passion coming from her is what I wanted to hear. I pull her into a side hug, rubbing her shoulder. She looks up at me, a bit of sparkle in her eyes, finally happy to speak her mind.

God, I want her. Bad. I’m already sporting a chub, but I planned for it this time, making sure my jeans had a bit more give to them.

I look at the cottage, imagining moving in there with her. Installing a doggie door, having a playset in the back, pushing her on it, and eventually pushing our child.

The realtor was absolutely right that I’m already thinking about the future.

We look at the cottage, which is absolutely perfect, and then at a few more houses she has available. A few are too small for my tastes, a few are a bit too luxurious, and a few are tacky McMansions that I question the durability of. To her credit, the realtor doesn’t try to sway my opinion there.

After I’ve had enough of looking and have a decent idea of what I want, we split off from the realtor and Fig and I head to the diner for a late lunch.

I get a classic bacon double cheeseburger, while Fig opts for a big bowl of minestrone.

“So, what is it that you want, Fig?”

“Hmm? Do you mean which house I’d take? I really liked that first cottage we saw.”

“I didn’t mean that, but that is making me wonder things about you.”

“What do you mean, wonder things about me?”

“Reuben tells me you’re this aspiring fashion designer. That you’re destined to be dressing the runway models of tomorrow. A big deal, who’s going to be a celebrity in your own right.”

“I guess that was the plan, yes. I dreamed of that.”

“And now you’re referring to it in past tense. Implying that’s not what you want at all.”

She looks at me, her smile growing slightly. “No one’s been asking me what I really want, and I guess it caught me off guard.”

“Well, I’m asking you now.”

She looks out the window for a time. I follow her line of sight, and it’s to an old boarded up shop between the town’s one Chinese restaurant and the town’s one electronics store. I think it used to be a shoe store before I left for Spokane.

“I want to take that shop. I want to start my own business. A boutique with custom pieces. I want to design clothes for people personally, to go with their own looks and personality, not just whatever I think will sell when draped on some poor, tortured runway model. That’s always been my inspiration above all else. Clothes and making them something truly special for the person wearing them.”

I stroke my chin. “That’s awfully different from dominating the world as a fashion mogul.”

“Maybe I imagined myself famous once, because what eighteen-year-old girl doesn’t want to be famous? But then I saw what I’d need to do for that fame, and realized that’s definitely not me. It made me reevaluate what I really wanted, and that’s something more personal than you’ll find at any hoity-toity fashion show in Paris.”

“And you want to give up the big city life? To live in a relatively tiny place like Home?”

“I miss this place. It’s my Home, no pun intended. I grew up here, I have so many fond memories. And the ones I have in the city don’t feel anywhere near as special.”

She resonates with me on so many levels. Spokane wasn’t the biggest place in the world, but even that had made me miss the small-town charm that Home has. It’s a passion we both share for this place.

“What about your apprenticeship in Los Angeles? I thought you had one waiting for you.”

“I do have an offer.” She sinks into her seat. “I don’t want to take it. I don’t want to leave Home again. Just being here makes me feel more relaxed, even with all the other anxiety I’m dealing with. I thought it was just homesickness, but no. This place is where I belong.”

“You’re not afraid of regretting turning down the opportunity you have?”

She shakes her head. “I am afraid. I’m terrified of making the wrong choice. Of letting everyone down. But I’m starting to realize that I shouldn’t let fear control my life. That I need to build up the courage to listen to my heart first, and my mind second. And both of them tell me that my happiness isn’t in Los Angeles being an intern for some ancient misogynist asshole.”

I stare at her, in awe. That’s the girl who charmed me all those years ago with her upfront personality and passion. Now she’s a woman with those same qualities, and it makes me wish I wasn’t staying with my mother, because I really want to whisk her off to someplace private right now and explore her body as thoroughly as I’ve explored her thoughts.

“What’s going through your mind, Hank? You got some passionate spiel about how much you love being a small-town firefighter, and the corruption of the big city and how it’s not for you either?”

“Aw, no, none of that. The Spokane fire department treated me well and they’re good guys and gals. I missed this place too, so I took the opportunity when it came. No ulterior motives here.”

“And what are you thinking about as you lovingly stare into my eyes?”

“I’m thinking about how I wish that public decency laws weren’t a thing because I want to do so many things to you right now, Fig.”

She laughed, turning red, but doing nothing to suggest she disagreed with my idea.

“Alas, we’re in a civilized society. How terrible.”

More giggles. Her eyes drift away and back toward the old shoe store. “You think your realtor can get me the information on what it takes to rent that store?”

“Are you serious?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t serious.”

“I’ll call her right now.”

“Thanks.”

I’m no business-minded person. I make my money by staying fit and ready to run into burning buildings if people need me to. I have no clue what it’ll take for Fig to make her boutique dream a reality.

But I have my heart. And I’m prepared to put that behind Fig and support her, no matter what she wants to do.