Читать книгу Sunrise Cabin - Stacey Donovan - Страница 6

chapter one

Of all the things Paige loved about the little cabin, the view of the sunrise was her favorite. She stepped outside the back door onto the small stone patio to watch, like she did every morning. The autumn chill seeped through her blue flannel pajamas, and she wrapped her arms around herself. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but almost, and the pond reflected the gold of the horizon. Above the dark silhouettes of the trees, still hanging onto their leaves for now, small pink and purple clouds flocked the brightening blue sky.

The cabin, at the end of a dead-end street far to the west of Denver, had mountain views to both the east and the west. It was a forty-minute drive, sometimes more, to the downtown elementary school where Paige taught, but in the morning quiet, she felt like she was a million miles away.

She took in a deep breath, let it out, and began her usual morning ritual.

“I’m thankful for this day,” she said aloud and closed her eyes. “I’m thankful for my mom and dad.” They were usually right at the top of her list. “I’m thankful for my job, and for the kids.” She gave a wry smile. A couple of the children in her first-grade class gave her some trouble, but she’d been teaching long enough now to expect that. “And for my health. And for this beautiful world, and this beautiful season.” She’d always loved fall.

“I’m thankful my car is fixed.” Her yellow VW bug had several years and a lot of miles on it, and she’d just gotten it back from the shop. She hadn’t planned on that expense, but at least it was running fine again. “I’m thankful for my creative inspiration. And I’m thankful for this wonderful home.”

Sometimes, she also expressed gratitude for good things that hadn’t happened yet, but she thought—or at least hoped—would come into her life. She’d read in a book once that having faith like that would actually lead to good things happening. So she added, “I’m thankful someone is about to publish my children’s stories.”

She tried to believe this. After eleven rejections, it wasn’t easy. But staying positive had worked for her before. A couple of years ago, she’d been living in an awful apartment, and she’d envisioned having a cute little house of her own. At the time, she’d expected that such a thing could only happen far in the future…and then almost immediately, she’d found this two-bedroom cabin for rent, at a price she could actually afford. Her parents had believed it was an answered prayer.

She didn’t even care about the scuffed brown linoleum floor in the kitchen, the rust stains in the bathroom sink, the few missing tiles above the bathtub, or even the draftiness in winter. She couldn’t have afforded it otherwise.

“I’m thankful for this day,” she concluded. Yes, she’d already said it once, but it was worth repeating. It was Monday, her favorite.

She looked at her watch. The cupcakes in the oven needed to bake fifteen more minutes, so she might as well at least make a start on her gardening project. Her brand-new spade, a big bag of garden soil, and a sack of tulip bulbs waited on the patio. It was the perfect spot to plant them, where they’d get morning sunshine. Until recently, a big pine tree had shaded this part of the yard, but it had fallen over in a winter ice storm. She’d been sorry to lose it, but it had left a perfect, sunny spot for flowers. She’d plant pink, purple, orange, and yellow ones, all mixed together. They’d reflect the colors of the sunrise.

She smiled as she thrust the spade into the earth, right alongside the patio. The scent of the dirt reached her nose as she dug a shallow trench.

“Good morning!”

She looked up to see her landlord and next-door neighbor walking across his backyard toward her. He was warmly dressed in a fleece pullover and jeans, and he moved with a surprising amount of energy for a man in his late seventies.

“Hi, Harry!” she said. “Did you get a haircut?”

He passed a hand over his gray hair. “No, I got them all cut.” He laughed, as he always did at his own corny jokes, and she laughed, too. As he reached her, he gestured toward the ground. “Whatcha doing here?”

“Oh! I was planting some bulbs.” Harry’s brows drew together, and belatedly, she realized she hadn’t actually asked his permission. He couldn’t object, could he? They’d be an improvement to the property, coming back year after year. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I was just surprised, since you’re only renting.”

She smiled and placed another bulb in the ground. “Well, this place feels like home.”

Instead of looking happy for her, Harry grimaced. “I can never look at this place without thinking about Judy. She had big plans for it.”

Her heart ached at his mention of his late wife. Soon after moving in, Paige had learned that Harry’s wife had died the year before after a brief bout with pancreatic cancer. She and Harry had bought the cabin then, renting it out and planning to remodel it someday.

“I wish I could’ve met her,” Paige said.

“I miss having breakfast with her,” he said. “And I didn’t always think about how nice that was, at the time.”

Oh, her heart. “I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing like being with someone you love. If you get the chance…” He trailed off.

She didn’t care to discuss her single status. “Maybe someday,” she said, her tone light.

Harry nodded. “How are things with your agent?” he asked in a more upbeat voice. “Did she find a publisher?”

Inwardly, Paige cringed. No doubt Harry had been trying to change the subject to something more comfortable to her, but this was anything but.

When she’d first gotten her agent, Alexis Boyd at Glimmer Literary Agency, Paige had told everyone. She’d been sure a publishing deal for her children’s books was right around the corner—that it would take a couple of months, perhaps.

How could she have been so naïve? That had been eight months ago. Since then, she’d received several emails from Alexis, telling her about publishers who’d passed on her work. Alexis had gotten her to revise the stories based on some of the feedback, but that hadn’t made a difference.

It had been quite a while since Alexis had even emailed. Pasting a smile on her face, Paige gave the same answer as before. “Maybe someday.”

Harry cleared his throat. “Well, I…I actually came over here to talk to you about something.” He looked down at his shoes. “You know your lease is up next month.”

“Right.” Paige had signed two one-year leases with him, both for the same monthly rent. Maybe he wanted to raise it. It would pinch a little, but she couldn’t complain.

“The truth is, I’m going to be selling the cabin.”

“What?” Paige’s whole body went cold, as though the life had drained out of it. My cabin. Her sweet little haven. She’d even started writing a story about it.

Harry managed to look Paige in the eye. “I’m required to give you thirty days’ notice to move out, but once it’s sold, I’ll give you forty-five days.”

That was more than fair, she knew, but she felt betrayed.

“My daughter thinks I should move down to Albuquerque and be closer to them,” he said. “I’ve been dragging my feet. I’ve got a lot of memories around here. But a friend of mine asked about buying my house, and I decided it was time. I’m working with an agent to sell the cabin, too. I’d love to see more of those grandkids.”

Paige softened, forgetting about her own predicament. “And I’m sure they’d love having you around.” Harry was probably about the nicest grandpa on earth. She was glad he’d be close to his family. He belonged there. And while she wished he would keep the cabin and rent it to her from afar, it was probably easier for him to sell. “Of course you have to go.” There was no sense making him feel guiltier about it. A hopeful thought occurred to her. “Do you think you might sell it to someone else who wants to keep renting it to me?”

“I asked the agent that. Anything’s possible, but he doesn’t think it’s likely. We’ll see.” Harry looked thoughtful. “I just hope it goes to someone who appreciates the place.”

A screeching noise from inside the cabin gave her a jolt. The smoke alarm. The cupcakes! “Oh, my gosh!”

She turned and sprinted into the house. The scent of burning cake filled her nostrils. She snatched a potholder, yanked the oven door open, and winced at the smoke pouring out of it. The cupcakes in the baking tin she pulled out looked like smoldering chunks of charcoal. As the smoke alarm continued to blare, she flung open the kitchen window—and met Harry’s appalled gaze.

This was bad. She’d ruined the birthday treats, and she was probably going to make him worry that she’d burn the little cabin down through sheer absent-mindedness. She shut off the oven and jogged back outside.

“At least we know the alarm works, huh?” she asked. It could shut up any time now. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Harry gave her a sympathetic smile. “Well, you were distracted.” The alarm stopped blaring at last.

Paige glanced down at the incomplete planting project. “I’ll have to finish this later.” Or would she? She wouldn’t be able to see them bloom. The realization gave her a fresh stab of sorrow. “I need to buy treats for one of my students.” After such a shock, she could use a treat herself.

She could get cupcakes at the café and bakery a couple of blocks away from Jefferson Elementary. If she got there early enough, she’d have time to get a pumpkin spice latte.

It had been forever since she’d stopped in at that place, and one needed to take advantage of pumpkin spice latte season when it came around.

And she’d do a little more writing on her story about the princess and the cabin. Why not? In at least one way, the place would be hers forever. She tried to take comfort in the thought.

After she said goodbye to Harry and went back inside, she took a moment to look around her. Although the bathroom and the two bedrooms had white walls, here in the kitchen and in the living room, the original log walls surrounded her, uneven, filled in with stripes of white mortar. The plank floors, although rough in places, nonetheless glowed. They were the exact color of Darjeeling tea sweetened with a bit of the red clover honey Paige had bought from the Union Station farmer’s market, though the jar was almost empty now, just a few sweet drops remaining.

The small rooms had always given Paige the feeling that she was safely tucked away with her dreams. Gradually over the course of the past two years, she’d added her own handmade touches, along with thrift shop treasures: a chartreuse lamp, a cuckoo clock, several vintage tea cups and saucers and a rack on the wall to display them. Looking around, Paige noticed for the first time that the ceiling above the fireplace was smudgy from the smoke. The chimney didn’t draw perfectly. Would this deter prospective buyers? Probably not.

She had to get going. In the bedroom, she changed out of the yoga pants and sweatshirt she’d slept in and into her work clothes. Since she’d learned to sew, she’d created some dresses and skirts in bright, whimsical prints that amused her students: cats, snowflakes, dinosaurs, stars. She chose the one she’d just finished.

After putting on a little makeup and grabbing her jacket and purse, she checked the time. She wouldn’t have a ton of time to linger at the café, but if she didn’t hit any bad traffic, she could at least stay for fifteen minutes or so.

I am not going to let this ruin my day, she promised herself. Who knew? Maybe the sale of the cabin would be a blessing in disguise. She was a huge believer in those.

Although, it would be one heck of a disguise. After she’d moved in, she’d felt so happy, and she’d started writing more. She loved the place with her heart and soul…

Wait a minute. Was it possible she could buy the place?

She hadn’t even thought about buying a house for quite a while. On her salary, she struggled to save money. Expenses always popped up, and she spent a not-inconsiderable amount on extra supplies for her classroom. Once she’d moved into the cabin, she’d more or less planned to rent it forever, or at least, as long as she could.

But she suddenly recalled one of the teachers at school talking about buying a home. According to him, a first-time buyer didn’t need to put much down. Maybe she could actually afford to make it hers. Who knew? Maybe it was meant to be.

It was impossible.

But what if it wasn’t?