A Bungalow For Two. Carole Page Gift
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I have an idea. Why don’t you take Ruggs with you? I’d feel better knowing he’s there to protect you.”
“You wouldn’t mind?”
Her father winked. “Juliana’s not too fond of the old boy anyway. You take him.”
Frannie threw her arms around her father’s neck. “Thank you, Daddy! Thank you!”
She turned to leave, but he caught her hand. “You know, there’s someone else who’s going to miss you. Now Belina won’t have anyone in the house her age to hang out with.”
Frannie rolled her eyes. Was it possible her father really didn’t have a clue about Belina? “Daddy, she’ll be very happy to have me out of here. You just wait and see.”
“I don’t believe that for a minute. I think she’d like the two of you to be friends.”
“Then she can come visit me at my beach house.” Fat chance that would ever happen!
Her father seemed to think that was a good idea. “I’ll tell her that. She used to live on the beach. I bet she misses it.”
“Whatever,” Frannie mumbled. Spooky Belina was the last person she wanted hanging out at her new place, but she couldn’t tell her father that.
The next afternoon, after lunch, her father helped her carry her things out to the car. She wasn’t taking much—some clothes, toiletries, her Bible, CD player, boombox and enough dishes, pots and pans and utensils to accommodate one person. On the weekend her father and Juliana’s son, Antonio, would rent a truck and bring out all her art supplies and equipment from the sunroom.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you today?” her father asked as she coaxed Ruggs into the passenger seat. “I could help you settle in. The place might need some work. I could get my toolbox and—”
“No, Daddy, you stay here. I’m fine. I’ve got to do this myself. I’m grown up, Dad. I’m not Daddy’s little girl anymore.” She didn’t add that she feared her father would have a fit if he saw how desolate and in disrepair the beach house was. She could hear him now. I won’t have my daughter living in a hovel like this! And look how isolated you are! It’s not safe. What if someone breaks in—?
No, she didn’t want him seeing her new home until she’d had a chance to settle in and spruce it up a bit. Once she had all her things in place, her father would be reluctant to insist she move out and come home.
It was late afternoon before Frannie pulled her vehicle into the small, rutted driveway beside her new home. Her heart was pounding with excitement as she slipped out of her car, let Ruggs out and walked across the beach to the modest dwelling. “Well, here we are, Ruggsy. Home at last!” She stuck the key in the lock and turned it, then gingerly opened the door. It creaked on its hinges. She made a mental note: Oil the hinges. She stepped inside and gazed around at her very own domicile.
The thought came to her: Be it ever so humble, there’s no place like home. Her gaze flitted over the hardwood floor, the paneled walls, braided throw rugs, pine tables with hurricane lamps and several pieces of overstuffed furniture, worn and sagging, but adequate. Besides the small bedroom and bath down the narrow hallway, the house consisted of one large room, with a breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the living area and a rustic stone fireplace taking up most of one wall.
Frannie sank down on the lumpy couch and bounced gently, testing the springs. “Well, they’re right about the humble part. It’s not Beverly Hills. But we’ll get along just fine, won’t we, Ruggsy?”
Ruggs loped around the room, sniffing every corner, then settled on the braided rug at Frannie’s feet. She reached down and massaged his floppy ears. “We can’t sit around loafing all day, Ruggs. We’ve got work to do.” She riffled through her purse and found her cell phone. “I’d better call the phone company and see when they can start service. Can’t depend on my cell phone forever.” She punched in the numbers and waited, then tossed the phone back in her purse. “Might know. In all my excitement, I forgot to charge the battery last night. We’re off to a good start, aren’t we!”
She got up and went to her kitchenette and turned on the spigot. The pipes groaned and clattered. Rusty water finally sputtered from the faucet. “Doesn’t look like this place has been occupied in ages.” She opened the cupboards. They would need to be washed out and lined before she stocked them. “Looks like I’d better bring in my stuff and find the detergent.”
It took several trips to unload her car. She couldn’t believe she had packed so much. And wait till her father came with the rest of her stuff on Saturday! Now that she had boxes, sacks and suitcases everywhere, the place looked smaller than ever. And a bit grungy, if she was honest about it. No second thoughts! she warned herself. You wanted a place of your own, and now you’ve got it. Make the best of it!
For the next hour she scrubbed the kitchen cupboards. While they weren’t exactly gleaming, they finally looked tolerable.
“I’m done! They’ll have to do.” Wiping her chapped hands on a paper towel, she looked over at Ruggs, ensconced by the stone fireplace. “Guess I’d better make a trip to the grocery store, or we’ll be having stale granola bars and rusty water for dinner. You stay here, boy, and keep an eye on the place, and I’ll bring you back your favorite doggie treats.”
Ruggs barked and wagged his tail.
Frannie grabbed up her purse, checked for her keys and retraced her steps across the sandy yard to her car. The air had cooled perceptibly and clouds were gathering on the horizon. “You might know,” she mumbled as she pulled out onto the street. “My first day in my new house and it looks like rain. It hardly ever rains in Southern California in July! Hope I’m not stuck with a leaky roof.”
The closest grocery store was a small market several miles away. Hope I don’t see anybody I know, she thought as she entered the store. She was wearing formfitting jeans and a white blouse tied at her waist, and her long blond hair looked unattended and flyaway in the rising breeze. Seeing that the store was nearly empty, she gave a little sigh of relief. Thank goodness, she wouldn’t be encountering any prospective dates in a place like this.
She bought just enough staples to tide her over for the next few days—two paper sacks filled with milk, butter, bread, eggs, oatmeal, ground beef, salad fixings and a healthy selection of fresh fruits and vegetables. She remembered Ruggs’s dog food and treats and even snuck in a bag of chips and munchies for herself, plus a six-pack of diet cola. At the checkout counter, she added a local newspaper, a nice way to keep in touch with the world, since she had decided not to bring a television set.
By the time she returned to the beach house, the clouds had swollen to a threatening black and the wind was rattling the shutters, as if demanding entrance. Balancing her two bags of groceries, Frannie got inside just as the wind banged the door shut behind her.
“Wow! Looks like we’re in for quite a storm.”
Ruggs gazed up at her and cocked his head in agreement. She gave him a treat, then put the groceries away. She hadn’t noticed before how old and small the refrigerator was. She hoped it worked. Why hadn’t she been more careful to check things when she’d had her walk-through?
A sudden pelting rain slammed against the roof and rattled the windows. She looked outside and groaned. It was a downpour. The thought occurred to her to go back home just for tonight to get out of this storm. She immediately dismissed the idea. How would it look for her to go hightailing it home her very first day?
She shivered and realized she had no idea how to heat the place. She scrutinized the fireplace. Sure, why not? This was her home now. If she wanted to have a little fire in her own fireplace, who was to stop her? She stooped down beside the hearth and moved the grate aside. To her surprise, it already held several charred logs. Now if she could just find the matches she had packed in one of the boxes.
By the time she located the matches, it was dark outside and the rain was coming down harder than ever. A bone-chilling