Safe With Me Part 17

"We've just fallen in love with the house and the neighborhood," Tara says. "Let us talk with our Realtor and we'll make you an offer, okay?"

Hannah nods, still feeling a little hesitant about her decision, but since visiting the storage unit and seeing Maddie again-feeling like she finally has taken a few steps toward closure-Hannah believes she's ready to make some changes.

A couple of days later, Hannah meets with John, the real estate agent Isaac referred her to, at his office. He reviews the offer Thomas and Tara's agent made her and confirms that it's a fair amount for the property. After they write up the paperwork to accept the offer and set a date to close escrow, they discuss where she might want to live.

"What areas are you interested in?" John asks as they sit at a large table in the office conference room. He is a short, brawny man, who with his bald head and small but matching gold hoop earrings, looks oddly like Mr. Clean clad in a navy blue suit.

"Not too far from Bellevue," Hannah says. "I'd like to be by the water, if I can." One of Emily's favorite things to do was go to the beach, and Hannah hopes that being near the water-or at least being able to see it from her home-will make her feel near to her daughter, too.

"Kirkland, maybe?" John says, typing rapidly on the keyboard of his laptop. "There are some beautiful cottages around the edge of Lake Washington. Waterfront might be a little out of your price range, but we could get you close. And it wouldn't be a terrible commute to the salon."

Hannah nods, and an hour later, Isaac meets them at one of the properties John pulled off the MLS as something Hannah might like. They visit five houses Hannah isn't thrilled with before pulling up to the last one on their list.

"It's tiny," Isaac says after he gets out of his car. He stands next to Hannah, his lanky arms hanging loose at his sides as he c.o.c.ks his head and squints his brown eyes at the property.

"We prefer to say cozy,'" John says, but Hannah stays quiet, letting her eyes roam over the pale yellow house, immediately charmed by the white shutters and wraparound porch. There is a postage-stamp-size yard, filled to the brim with lush plant life-a single, delicate j.a.panese maple graces each side of the stairs, and the flower beds are thick with sea gra.s.ses and several tall rosebushes. Hannah glances over to the narrow driveway and wonders if her car could fit inside the small garage.

"When was it built?" she asks.

John glances at his smart phone, using his finger to scroll down the screen. "Nineteen fifty-two," he says, then removes the key from the lockbox on the front door. "But it has been fully renovated."

They enter directly into the living room, and Hannah immediately notes the shiny blond hardwood floor and the calming sage-green walls. Like John told her, the property isn't waterfront, but it is on a hill, and from the picture window Hannah can see the bright blue waters of Lake Washington. She wanders into the dining room, which really is only an alcove with enough s.p.a.ce for a table for two, and then into the galley kitchen, which is updated with gleaming stainless-steel appliances and a mosaic backsplash made out of what look like random bits of turquoise sea gla.s.s. There are two bedrooms with bay windows and tiny closets; between those, a bathroom with white tiles and a claw-foot tub.

"I love it," Hannah says, taking in the built-in bookshelves in the hallway. She suddenly envisions placing Emily's pictures and art projects there and suspects a Christmas tree will look just perfect in the corner of the front room.

"You've barely looked around yet," says Isaac, ever the practical sibling. When they were kids, Hannah would be scaling a western white pine tree in the back woods of their parents' property while Isaac watched from the safety of the ground. While she leapt from heights far above the reservoir of the Boise River, Isaac cautioned against the possibility of sharp rocks below.

"It feels right," Hannah says, smiling up at her brother. "Can we make an offer, John?"

"Of course," John says, walking past her to set his briefcase down on the dining room table. "We can fill out the paperwork online and email it to the listing agent right now."

"Hold on, Hannah-banana," Isaac says. "Don't you think you should look at a few more options before you decide?"

"No, I don't," Hannah says, stepping over to give her brother a kiss on the cheek. "Life is short, Isaac. This is where I want to live it."

That night, Hannah goes over to Isaac's for dinner to celebrate finding the house. She sits at the island in his sleek black kitchen, sipping a gla.s.s of wine as she watches him saute vegetables and check the temperature of the chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s roasting in the oven. When they arrived at his house, he changed out of the slacks and blue b.u.t.ton-down shirt he'd worn to look at properties into a pair of Levi's and a black T-shirt. Hannah notes that he moves with decided ease around the room, his long limbs reaching for a pan in the cupboard or into the fridge for fresh herbs.

"You'd make some woman a lovely wife," she says, teasing him. "Do you do windows, too?"

He smiles and halfheartedly flips her off. "No, but my housekeeper does. Cooking just happens to relax me, okay? When you travel as much as I do, the last thing you want is to eat out when you're at home." He starts to mash the boiled potatoes he just took off the stove with b.u.t.ter and milk. Hannah sees the sinewy muscles of his forearm work beneath his tan skin. "So what inspired the move, little sis?" he asks. "I've been out of the loop."

Hannah takes a deep breath and proceeds to tell him everything that has happened over the last six weeks, starting with Olivia and Maddie's first appearance at the salon and ending with Maddie's visit there just a few days before. "I screwed up," she confesses. "But all of it made me realize that I'd been existing in a sort of suspended state, you know? I was working, remodeling the salon, dealing with clients, running my a.s.s off trying to pretend that everything was fine when inside I was crumbling."

Isaac stops mashing and looks right at his sister. "I think we all do that, to some extent. We put on a face that things are fine when they're not, or pretend to be something other than what we really are." He pauses to give the potatoes a quick stir. "What's dangerous is when we lose sight of who we are behind the mask, you know? It sounds like you showed Olivia and Maddie who you really are when you told them the truth. And Maddie coming to see you? That's pretty huge. Maybe Olivia will come around."

Hannah sighs. "I know, I'm just still so worried about them. I hate that there's nothing I can do to help."

"I know that feeling well," Isaac says, giving her a pointed look.

Hannah sets her winegla.s.s down, then walks over to her brother and gives him a hug. He smells like lemon thyme and garlic. "I'm sorry."

He kisses the top of her head. "No need. I'm just happy to see you coming back to your old self a bit." She pulls away, and he feeds her a bite of potato, looking at her expectantly. "More salt?" She nods and leans her hips against the edge of the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm going home for the week of Thanksgiving," she tells him. "We need to help Dad figure out what to do about managing the farm."

"I know," Isaac says. He looks at her with his big brown eyes. "I'm quitting my job, Hannah. I'm moving back there."

"What?" she exclaims. "All of a sudden you want to live on a farm?"

"It's not all of a sudden. I've been giving it some thought for a while now. More so since Emily died." His eyes shine with tears and he blinks rapidly to erase them. "Losing her really shook me up. Made me reexamine my priorities. My whole life has been my career, and all that just feels meaningless to me now. I've made more money than I know what to do with and I'm burned out on traveling. I just want to go home."

"Home?" she repeats, trying not to look as shocked as she feels. "But you live here."

He shrugs. "I know . . . but I miss the country. I miss the quiet and the slower pace." He waits a beat. "I've also reconnected with Annie Mitch.e.l.l."

"Annie?" Hannah says, picturing her brother's high school girlfriend-a bouncy, curvy brunette with huge dimples and personality to spare. "I thought she married Brett Richardson?"

Her brother blushes. "They divorced about five years ago. We found each other on Facebook in June, and it got serious again between us pretty quickly, like no time had pa.s.sed at all. I've been back to visit her, and she's come here, too, but not with her kids."

"You said you went home this summer to see Mom and Dad," Hannah says, trying to keep the accusation out of her tone. She cannot believe she has been so deep in her own grief that her brother didn't feel he could share all of this with her.

"I did go home to see them." He smiles. "And Annie, too. I just didn't want to say anything to you in case it didn't work out."

Hannah takes a couple of breaths and looks at her brother with wide eyes. "She has kids?"

"Twin boys, Grayson and Liam."

"How old are they?"

"Ten. They're really great, Hannah, and actually seem to be okay with me dating their mom, so I started thinking about moving back . . . just to see where it all might lead."

"How could you not have told me about this?" Hannah demands, playfully smacking her brother's arm. "Especially at the party for the salon opening when Mom was giving me such a hard time about me moving back home!"

Isaac looks a little guilty. "You already had a lot going on. I didn't want to make it worse. And honestly, I hadn't decided for absolute sure I was moving back at that point. Now, I'm sure."

Something dawns on Hannah, thinking back to her last conversation with her mother, when she didn't mention Hannah moving home for the first time in a year. "So that's why Mom backed off pushing me to move home? You're doing it instead."

"She gets one of her kids returning to the nest, so I guess she's happy. I'm not going to live in their house, though. We're going to fix up the old cabin, the one near the edge of the property." Hannah nods, and then he waits a beat before speaking again. "Are you going to be okay if I leave? I mean, I know you're a grown-up and everything, but-"

"I'll be fine," Hannah says, gently cutting him off. "I'm happy for you, Isaac. Really."

They sit down to dinner, and he fills her in on all the details of reconnecting with Annie. His face lights up when he talks about her, and although Hannah really is happy for him, she can't help but be a little jealous that her brother has fallen in love. It somehow compounds her aloneness and makes her realize just how deeply she aches for someone to hold.

Inspired by Isaac's story about falling back in love with Annie, Hannah drives home from his house surprised to find herself thinking about Seth. He really does seem like a good guy. Granted, most people only show the best version of themselves to new acquaintances, but Hannah likes that at first glance, at least, he seems compa.s.sionate and self-aware. She also likes that he helps other people for a living.

Back in her apartment, after unsuccessfully trying to distract herself from thoughts of him by watching TV, she glances at the clock and wonders if nine thirty is too late to call. She decides it's not and heads downstairs to get his cell number off his client profile. She's not exactly sure what she's going to say, and she knows that she might not be ready to date him, but considering his profession, there's something she knows she can ask.

Sitting on her small couch, she holds her breath as the phone rings. "Hi," she says when he answers, exhaling the word. "It's Hannah . . . from the salon?"

"h.e.l.lo, Hannah from the salon," Seth says warmly. "Calling to check up on how happy I am with my haircut?"

She laughs, nervously. "No, not exactly. Well, not at all, really. Not that I don't hope you're happy with it or anything." Realizing she's babbling, she clamps her mouth shut.

"You can rest a.s.sured I am," he says, an amused edge in his voice. "How are you?"

"I bought a new house today," she blurts out. "I'm selling the one I lived in with my daughter." Why am I telling him this?

"That's great," he says, sounding genuinely enthused. "Congratulations." They spend a few minutes talking about the new house, where it is and what it looks like. Finally, there is a moment of silence before Seth speaks again. "Is there something else you wanted to talk with me about?"

"There is, actually," Hannah says. Her mouth is dry and she swallows to try to moisten it. "Here's the thing. I have some things to work out. For myself, I mean. Trust issues, maybe? And my feelings around losing Emily." She feels the back of her throat tingle with impending tears, and she swallows again to fight them down. "So I was wondering-"

"Let me stop you there, Hannah," Seth says gently. "I don't make it a practice to take on women I'm interested in dating as clients."

"Oh no," Hannah says, ridiculously pleased that he just said he wants to date her. "I don't want to see you professionally."

"Okay, good," he says, relieved. "You're calling to ask me out, then?" She's pretty sure he's joking, but still, it makes Hannah squirm.

"Um, no," she says, wishing she could start this entire conversation over. She is entirely too out of practice with this whole world; she probably just offended him. "I mean, I'd like to go out with you . . ." She trails off and tries to find the right way to tell him what she needs to say. She considers telling him everything about Olivia and Maddie, thinking maybe he'd have some better insight on how she could help them, but realizes she doesn't know him quite well enough to feel comfortable exposing that much about herself. Instead, she tries to focus on the real reason she decided to call. "Like I said, I've got some things to work through. Until I do, I'm not sure I'm exactly ready to take on any kind of serious relationship."

"You think we'd have a serious relationship?" he asks, and immediately, Hannah wants to take back everything she's said.

"Well, I don't know, exactly," she stutters, and he once again cuts her off, laughing a little bit as he speaks.

"Sorry, I shouldn't tease you. Go on with whatever it is you want to say. I promise to be quiet."

"It's nothing huge," she says, feeling her heartbeat flutter. "I know we don't know each other terribly well yet, but I'm wondering if you could recommend a colleague for me to see. A therapist, I mean. Someone who you think I might mesh with?"

"Of course," he says, suddenly sounding very professional. "Would you be more comfortable seeing a male or female?"

"Female, I think," Hannah says, considering what a hard time she has trusting men. "Thank you."

"No problem. Can I email you a list?"

"Great," she says. She gives him her email address but then hesitates before ending the call. "Seth?" she says, just after he tells her he should probably go. She likes the way his name feels in her mouth.

"Yes?"

"I hope . . . I mean, when I've sort of worked through a few things, I'd like to, well, take you out for coffee or something. If you want." In that moment, she feels more like a nervous schoolgirl than a grown woman. She just told him she wasn't ready to date yet, and here she is, asking him out? Men just adore women who send mixed messages.

"I'd love that," Seth says. "Maybe we can just be friends for now. Friends have coffee . . . right?"

"They do." Hannah smiles, feeling a little less like she's made a fool of herself.

"All right then, it's settled," he says. "We'll be friends, having coffee. Say, next Sunday morning? If we're feeling especially daring, we could have m.u.f.fins. Totally nonserious, we're-just-friends baked goods."

Hannah laughs. They decide on a time and place to meet, and then hang up. She looks around her apartment with a small, hopeful smile, knowing it really is time to move on. No matter what happens with Maddie and Olivia, it's time to pick up the broken pieces of her heart and try again.

Olivia

"Are you sure you're going to be okay at the party?" Olivia asks as she sits on Maddie's bed, watching as her daughter applies a pair of silver-tipped false eyelashes. She is dressed up as a glamorous witch, with the standard black hat, draped black dress, and pointy-toed black shoes. Maddie has thrown a sparkly turquoise feather boa around her neck for a bit of pizzazz.

"I'll be fine, Mom," Maddie says, glancing at her in the mirror. "Jen's parents are home, remember? You talked with them. They have your number if anything goes wrong. Which it won't."

"You just haven't been to a party like this before," Olivia says, unable to stop herself from fussing around her child. "There might be kids sneaking alcohol into the punch or getting high in the bathroom . . ." She trails off, then looks at her daughter with wide eyes. She's afraid to mention what's going through her mind-she's never had to worry about anything like this for Maddie before-but she forces herself to say it. "You know about condoms, right? In case Noah and you decide-"

"Oh my G.o.d, Mom! I am not talking with you about this!" Maddie whips around and stares hard at her mother. "Please. Just trust me, okay? I'm not going to do anything stupid, and if other people are being stupid, I'll call you to come pick me up."

Olivia stands and walks over to Maddie, reaching out to straighten her long black wig. In full makeup, her daughter looks so much older than sixteen, and for some reason, this makes Olivia feel scared. What happened to her little girl? "Okay, honey. I'm sorry. I do trust you. This is all just very new to me . . . and you. I just want you to be safe."

Maddie's expression softens. "I want that for you, too." She pauses. "Have you called anyone yet? Do you think we might be able to leave soon?" She says this quietly, stealing a glance at the door, even though she knows her father is at the office.

So many things-her illness, a life ruled by her father's temper-have made Maddie a cautious girl. Olivia wants nothing more than to free her daughter from that fear, for her to get to live a life filled with openness and unbridled enthusiasm. But the truth is, a part of Olivia still feels stuck. A part of her hopes that if Maddie can just hold on until college, then Olivia won't have to leave.

"I've made a few calls," Olivia says, realizing that now she is not only placating James but doing it with Maddie, too. Understanding this makes her feel a little ill, like she's moving farther away from the version of herself she'd like to be instead of closer to it. "Nothing definite, though."

"What are you going to do tonight?" Maddie asks her.

"I'm making a nice dinner for your dad when he gets home," Olivia says, trying not to let her worries show on her face. "Are you hungry? Do you need to eat before you go?"

"No, Mom. There'll be food at the party."

"What if there's nothing gluten-free? You should eat something."

"I'll be fine!" Maddie sighs and grabs her cell phone from her dresser, sneaking it into the pocket of her dress. "Noah is going to be here any minute."

Downstairs, Olivia waits with her daughter for Noah to arrive, which he does, not a minute later than he said he would. He stands on the threshold, dressed in what looks to Olivia like a priest's floor-length black robe. His dark hair is slicked back, and opaque black gla.s.ses cover his eyes. "Hi, Mrs. Bell," he says. "Thanks for letting me drive Maddie to the party."

"Of course, Noah," she says with a smile. She likes this boy for Maddie-he seems polite and respectful of her. James hasn't met him yet, but Olivia is hopeful that because her husband likes Noah's father, he'll like Noah, too. "What are you supposed to be?" she asks him. This is the kind of question a good mother would ask, Olivia thinks. At least, I hope it is.

"Neo from the Matrix movies," he says.

"There is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path,'" Maddie says in a deep, throaty voice, which makes Noah crack up laughing. Olivia must look confused, because her daughter says, "It's a line from the movie, Mom."

"Ah," Olivia says, suddenly feeling older than she'd like. "Got it."

Noah looks over Maddie's costume. "You look great," he says. "Very pretty. And wicked."