Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
A laugh burst from him. “I wish! How cool would that be? But no, I was talking about some of the other families who traveled the same vendor circuit as my mom and me. We worked at fairs, carnivals, and festivals up and down the west coast.”
“What kinds of festivals?”
“You name it. There were your basic pumpkin festivals in the fall, cherry blossom festivals in the spring, that sort of thing. But my favorites were the off-beat ones, like the yearly bigfoot festival in a small Northern California town. Another town would go all out for an annual fungus fest. As in mushrooms. They weren’t, like, celebrating athlete’s foot or anything.”
“So, you did this year-round?”
“Yup, fifty weeks a year.”
I had so many questions. “Did you live in hotels? And how did you go to school?”
“We lived in our camper and trailer. I slept in the camper, so it was like having my own room. And I was home-schooled by Mrs. Olivetti. She had five boys, and she let me join them when class was in session. Her family made a living selling T-shirts.”
“What did your mom sell?”
“We sold several items, including corndogs and fried pickles. But we were sort of famous for fried butter on a stick.” I assumed he was kidding, but his expression was perfectly sincere. He changed the subject with, “Is it okay if I put Dusty down, so he can explore?”
I would have loved to hear more about his unusual childhood, but I let it go for now. “Yeah, of course. You can open those double doors for him if you want, so he can check out the backyard, too. It’s fenced, so he can’t run off or anything.”
“Thanks.” He put the dog down and darted after him.
His friends were close by, and I turned to them and asked, “Is everyone good with wine?”
Yolanda muttered, “Hell yes, and keep it coming.”
I indicated the lounge, which opened onto the kitchen. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I’ll only be a minute.”
They went into the adjoining room, but instead of taking a seat, they clustered in front of the fireplace and started a hushed conversation. I wondered what kind of impression I was making.
I pulled some additional glasses out of the cupboard before selecting two more bottles from the wine fridge. Then I grabbed two more. This afternoon needed all the help it could get.
After a minute, Embry reappeared at my side. “Dusty loves the yard. He’s running all around and sniffing everything.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He ran his hands along the edge of the stone countertop and asked, “Was it hard to grow up in a house like this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything is so perfect. It’s like a museum. I’d be afraid of messing something up and getting in trouble.”
“My dad wasn’t like that, and this house was very different when he was still alive. He picked furniture for comfort and practicality, not for style.”
“What made you change it?”
I decided to be honest. It was important to open up and get to know each other, if we were going to convince my family we were a couple. “After Dad died, I was devastated. It was so sudden. He was diagnosed with cancer and died three weeks later, at just fifty-seven years old. I couldn’t process it. Even now, I’m still coming to terms with it.”
Embry touched my sleeve. “That must have been so hard.”
“It was. I felt like I was drowning in grief. I couldn’t stand the thought of selling this house because he loved it so much, but I was overwhelmed by all the memories in this place. So, I got the idea to remodel it, as a way of trying to move forward. I hired a designer and let her do whatever she wanted, while I lived in a hotel for four months. The only room I wanted a say in was the kitchen. I also mentioned my favorite color, which is why every room is decorated in shades of blue. But that was the extent of my input.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
“But you regret changing it,” he guessed.
“Yeah, I do, but it’s too late now.”
“Did you get rid of everything from before?”
“All the furniture got donated. The sentimental stuff is packed up in the attic.”
“Did any good come from the remodel?”
“Not really. I wanted it to feel like a fresh start, but when I look around I still see the past. It’s like looking at a double exposure. Have you ever seen one of those?” He shook his head, and I explained, “It’s where one photograph gets printed over the top of another, and you can still see both images. That’s what this house feels like. I look at my stainless-steel refrigerator, and I remember the funky shelves full of plants and cookbooks that used to be in that spot. The fridge was over there.” I pointed to the right. “It was white, and it had these souvenir magnets all over it that I used to collect when I was a kid. There was one from every place I visited.”