revealed another side of her—one he had not expected. The entire bottom shelf was packed with cans of Slim-Fast. Lord, please don’t let her be trying to lose weight! The rest of the food seemed to confirm it, but she hadn’t eaten diet type foods during their meals together. The pantry held some normal snack foods, which for some odd reason, reassured him. Cara Laas should not change size or shape.
He ambled down the hall into the first bedroom and glanced around the room. It seemed to be some kind of craft room. Shelves of paper stood near a small desk, and pens and scissors of every kind hung in organized, small, metal pails on the wall. He opened double doors, expecting to see more clothing and found a Murphy bed.
“Who has Murphy beds anymore?” He glanced around the room again and smiled to himself. “With a Murphy bed, she has more room until she actually needs it. Smart.”
The next room he’d already seen. The pile of clothes from the previous evening had vanished, every outfit replaced, and the closet no longer looked disheveled. In the back corner of the closet, in plain view, sat a box with a small corner of purple fabric sticking out between the flaps—the clothes she’d discarded.
Jeans and a “rainbow” t-shirt re vived from the popular eighties look lay folded on the edge of a bed that instinctively, Jonathan knew wasn’t hers. The only other door had to lead to the bathroom, leaving Jonathan confused as to where she slept. Surely not the Murphy bed!
As he stepped into the bathroom, ruffles and flowers attacked him . Jonathan winced at the idea of his son attempting to use the be-ruffled toilet. This would not be a pretty sight. Riley, however, would be in heaven. Silver plated brush and mirror lay on the vanity counter, waiting for use. The basin of the porcelain sink had been hand painted, and tulle hung over the mirror and had been festooned it with the most realistic artificial roses he’d ever seen.
Though small, the townhome offered plenty of space for the average single person. If she cut out two-thirds of her possessions, Jonathan knew he’d feel right at home had he been single and didn’t need room for dollhouses, Lego castles, and an extensive children’s video collection. He imagined Riley in the living room and cringed. He’d have to remember to warn her against touching anything. Repeatedly.
French doors at the end of the living room seemed to lead to a patio, but when he opened them, he found a tall window with a view of the association’s mini park and a flight of stairs. He hadn’t realized that the upstairs belonged to her. This, he couldn’t help but explore.
At the top of the stairs, Jonathan leaned against the banister. The staircase opened into a huge master bedroom that covered most of the lower level. The townhome had obviously been designed with a single person in mind. A king sized bed with a filmy canopy and more rose vines sat against one wall. A loveseat and chair sat in a corner with an entertainment center nearby, while another corner housed a French desk.
The bathroom was larger than the bedrooms downstairs. He’d never imagined anything like this master bedroom in such a small dwelling. It was more like a master suite in a much larger home, and yet it fit her. Cara was the kind of woman who enjoyed her little luxuries but wasn’t dependent on them. Irrationally, he wondered if she’d clutter his home with the same kind of bric-a-brac if they got married.
Whoa, boy. You hardly know her. Don’t let your mind wander down that road. Yet.
Downstairs, he flipped on the TV, endured ten minutes of the Paisley Duncan Show, and then snapped it off again. Her Bible lay on the end table, a bookmark sticking out from somewhere in the Old Testament, near Psalms from the location of it. He flipped it open and grinned. Song of Solomon. Now that was an interesting discovery.
Jonathan awoke when he felt the couch sink beside him. “Cara…”
“Have a nice
He ambled down the hall into the first bedroom and glanced around the room. It seemed to be some kind of craft room. Shelves of paper stood near a small desk, and pens and scissors of every kind hung in organized, small, metal pails on the wall. He opened double doors, expecting to see more clothing and found a Murphy bed.
“Who has Murphy beds anymore?” He glanced around the room again and smiled to himself. “With a Murphy bed, she has more room until she actually needs it. Smart.”
The next room he’d already seen. The pile of clothes from the previous evening had vanished, every outfit replaced, and the closet no longer looked disheveled. In the back corner of the closet, in plain view, sat a box with a small corner of purple fabric sticking out between the flaps—the clothes she’d discarded.
Jeans and a “rainbow” t-shirt re vived from the popular eighties look lay folded on the edge of a bed that instinctively, Jonathan knew wasn’t hers. The only other door had to lead to the bathroom, leaving Jonathan confused as to where she slept. Surely not the Murphy bed!
As he stepped into the bathroom, ruffles and flowers attacked him . Jonathan winced at the idea of his son attempting to use the be-ruffled toilet. This would not be a pretty sight. Riley, however, would be in heaven. Silver plated brush and mirror lay on the vanity counter, waiting for use. The basin of the porcelain sink had been hand painted, and tulle hung over the mirror and had been festooned it with the most realistic artificial roses he’d ever seen.
Though small, the townhome offered plenty of space for the average single person. If she cut out two-thirds of her possessions, Jonathan knew he’d feel right at home had he been single and didn’t need room for dollhouses, Lego castles, and an extensive children’s video collection. He imagined Riley in the living room and cringed. He’d have to remember to warn her against touching anything. Repeatedly.
French doors at the end of the living room seemed to lead to a patio, but when he opened them, he found a tall window with a view of the association’s mini park and a flight of stairs. He hadn’t realized that the upstairs belonged to her. This, he couldn’t help but explore.
At the top of the stairs, Jonathan leaned against the banister. The staircase opened into a huge master bedroom that covered most of the lower level. The townhome had obviously been designed with a single person in mind. A king sized bed with a filmy canopy and more rose vines sat against one wall. A loveseat and chair sat in a corner with an entertainment center nearby, while another corner housed a French desk.
The bathroom was larger than the bedrooms downstairs. He’d never imagined anything like this master bedroom in such a small dwelling. It was more like a master suite in a much larger home, and yet it fit her. Cara was the kind of woman who enjoyed her little luxuries but wasn’t dependent on them. Irrationally, he wondered if she’d clutter his home with the same kind of bric-a-brac if they got married.
Whoa, boy. You hardly know her. Don’t let your mind wander down that road. Yet.
Downstairs, he flipped on the TV, endured ten minutes of the Paisley Duncan Show, and then snapped it off again. Her Bible lay on the end table, a bookmark sticking out from somewhere in the Old Testament, near Psalms from the location of it. He flipped it open and grinned. Song of Solomon. Now that was an interesting discovery.
Jonathan awoke when he felt the couch sink beside him. “Cara…”
“Have a nice
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