Remember the Time by Annette Reynolds Read Free Book Online Page A

It’s just a question of whether you will or won’t.” Mike watched her face take on that familiar stubborn set.
    “Is this some plan that you and Sheryl cooked up? Get Kate back on her feet?”
    “Well, I see it as a barter, plain and simple. I can really use your expertise. I can’t help the way you choose to look at it.”
    She was wrestling with it.
Good
, Mike thought.
A small guilt trip can’t hurt the cause
.
    Kate finally said, “I’ll think about it, okay?”
    He nodded.
    “I’ll let you know in a couple of days.”
    “Fine.” Mike stood. “Did you have enough to eat?”
    Kate handed him her plate. “Yes, thanks. It was wonderful.”
    Mike set the dishes in the sink and, with his back to her, asked, “Do you have a couple of minutes?”
    “Sure.”
    “Good. I wanted to show you the bedroom. It’s finally finished and I think there’s a piece in there you’ll really appreciate.”
    Mike had bought the gray-stuccoed Craftsman home three years ago. He’d paid next to nothing for the 1910 gem. Aside from a bad roof and years of neglect, it had survived the whims of renovation. All the interior woodwork was original and unpainted. The built-in sideboard in the dining room, the inglenook with its bench seat, the tiles around the fireplaces in the living room and master bedroom—all had been left untouched.
    Mike had replicated the original forest-green roof and painted the exterior trim the same color. The covered front porch that ran the width of the house also had the same sloped green roof and a gabled entry. The stucco had cracked along the face of the porch and Mike had done the patch work himself. And then he’d tackled the interior. It had taken him nearly two years to finish it to his satisfaction. Furnishing it came next. Gustav Stickley, one of the founders of the American Arts and Crafts movement, could have walked into Mike’s house and felt at home. It was
that
authentic.
    Kate followed him down the hallway and up the stairs, saying, “Don’t tell me you finally found that Stickley wardrobe you’d been hunting for?”
    “Better.” He stood aside to let her enter.
    “Better? How is that possible?”
    He pushed the light switch and listened to her intake of breath. She quickly walked to a medium-sized oak wardrobe and ran her fingers along the inlay.
    “A Crafters?” She bent down to inspect the brasshandles. “God, it’s beautiful.” Then she looked around the room, her eyes stopping to caress each piece of mission-style furniture.
    Kate was enthralled by the bedroom. She’d been in it only one other time, when he’d first moved in, and she was stunned by the transformation. Kate walked the perimeter of the room, her hand lovingly stroking each piece, her eyes soothed by the warm light that reflected off the honey-colored furniture.
    “Mike,” she said in hushed tones. “It’s perfect.”
    “Almost,” he said, watching her.
    She continued her exploration and, almost as an afterthought, asked, “Almost? What else could you possibly need?”
    His heart beat faster, and he nearly told her then, but she looked over at him and smiled and he knew he couldn’t do it.
    “It’s perfect,” she repeated.
    “Glad you like it.”
    Kate sat on the bed and leaned back on her arms, letting her feet dangle above the simple design of the small wool rug. “If I lived here, I’d never leave this room.”
    The room suddenly got warmer and Mike propelled himself away from the wall he’d been leaning against. “I’ve got a spot I’m trying to fill in the den. Care to give me your opinion?”
    “Sure.” Kate hopped off the bed. “Lead the way, bwana.”
    “Y’know,” Mike was saying as they walked down the staircase, “I ran into Cindy a couple of weeks ago. She said the shop is doing pretty well.”
    “Amazing, isn’t it? I don’t remember the last time I was in there.”
    “Funny, she said exactly the same thing.” They had entered the room Mike used as his study.