Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 82940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
What, she wondered, made her so interested in the idea of a home? For as long as she could remember, Erin had felt a deep curiosity about other people’s homes—how they were decorated, the objects chosen to fill the rooms—even what was in a stranger’s fridge. Partly it must have been down to her natural inquisitive nature as a journalist, but maybe it was more than that. Her parents, Howie and Betsy, had created a beautiful home for their six children. A true family home. Perhaps, deep down, Erin possessed an innate desire to do the same.
As the house came into view, Erin could hardly believe she was about to see inside. She didn’t know why she loved this house, of all the gorgeous houses on Scenic Drive. It wasn’t the flashiest, it wasn’t the biggest, but to her it was perfect. Made of Carmel stone that almost glowed when the sun shone, it had been built in the thirties and reflected the Art Deco craze that had swept the town, with its sensational Deco-style windows. As it was built on a corner lot, nearly every room would have ocean views. She couldn’t imagine anything more peaceful.
Mila parked and they headed up the path to the house. As Mila unlocked the door, excitement bubbled up in Erin. She stepped inside and sighed with satisfaction. It was as gorgeous inside as she’d imagined. As she’d suspected, the living room looked directly over the ocean. There was a beautiful stone fireplace, high ceilings, and since no one was living there yet, it was empty of furniture. Her imagination began to run wild and she knew exactly how she would decorate this place if it were hers. It begged for comfy Mission-style furniture, maybe a Tiffany lamp or two. Soft, warm lighting and huge bookcases to line the walls. And over there was the perfect place for a cozy armchair, where she might unwind in the evenings with a good book and a glass of good red wine. Mila gave her the spiel about square footage but Erin was too busy soaking in the atmosphere of the place to care about numbers. Down the hallway, she was delighted to find a room obviously built as a library, with floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves. Would Jay put his comic books in them? Or his model train collection?
There was a beautiful big gourmet kitchen, and across the hall was a room that looked out into a private garden filled with lush plants and silvery succulents.
Mila said, “This will be Jay’s office,” though it was pretty obvious it had been set up by the last people as an office too. There were still marks in the carpet where the desk had been, and enough power outlets in the wall to run the technology for a pretty big company.
“Do you know why the previous owners sold this place?” Erin asked. “I can’t imagine ever wanting to leave.”
Mila gave a shrug. “They wanted something bigger, if you can believe it.”
Erin shook her head. This place had more than enough space for everything she’d ever dreamed.
As they climbed the oak staircase to the next level, Mila said, “There are six ensuite bedrooms. I wasn’t sure Jay would want that many, but he seemed really pleased. He said he can invite friends and family and maybe some of his top clients to stay.”
Erin’s eyes grew wider as they walked into the master bedroom—probably the nicest room she’d ever seen in her life. Period. It was positioned to have the most glorious view of the ocean, with its shimmering, green-tinged waves and rocky alcoves, all framed by the green leaves of ancient trees. There was something incredibly romantic about the Deco arched windows framing the vista. It was as though she’d stepped inside an old novel full of martini glasses and swing dancing and late-night cigars. The crown jewel was the beautiful Deco fireplace in one wall, though it had been converted to gas at some point.
“Wow,” she breathed and then glanced at Mila. “I think this bedroom is bigger than my whole apartment.”
“I know, right?”
Mila didn’t live in as small a space as Erin did, but her two-bedroom fairytale cottage would fit inside Jay’s new house about four times.
She was about to ask to see the rest of the bedrooms when the front door banged shut.
She gazed at Mila in horror and grabbed her arm. “Who’s that?”
Mila looked worried. “The only other person who has a key is Jay. He must have come back early. I’m sure he won’t mind, Erin.”
Now she heard footsteps on the stairs, almost like a horror movie, except this wasn’t a scary monster—it was a brash Hollywood agent. She was shot through with mortification. Jay was about to discover her snooping around his new home.
She’d almost prefer the scary monster.