“You go, Moe,” she cheered, shut the door, and strolled back to her car.
She drove directly to the building. Indulgence, she corrected herself as she parked. It was going to be Indulgence, so she needed to start thinking of it that way instead of as “the house” or “the building.”
When she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the strong smell of fresh paint hit her. It was a good smell, she decided. The smell of progress, of newness, of accomplishment.
Maybe the white primer wasnt pretty, but it was sure as hell bright, and looking at it, she could see just how far theyd come already.
“So lets keep going.”
She pushed up her sleeves and headed to the supplies and tools.
It occurred to her that this was the first time, the only time, shed been alone here. On the heels of that came the thought that maybe she was asking for trouble being alone in a place where Kane had already wielded his sorcery.
She glanced uneasily up the steps. And thought of cold blue mist. As if the chill of it crept over her skin, she shuddered.
“I cant be afraid to be here.” The way her voice echoed made her wish shed brought along a radio. Anything to fill the silence with normal sound.
Wont be afraid to be here, she corrected herself as she opened a can of paint. How could she, or any of them, make this place their own if they were afraid to come into it alone?
There were bound to be times when one of them came in early or stayed late. The three of them couldnt be attached at the hip. She—all of them—would have to get used to the quiet of the place, and the settling noises. Normal quiet, normal noises, she assured herself. Hell, she liked being alone and having a big, empty house all to herself. It was tailor-made Dana time.
The memory of Kanes nasty games wasnt going to scare her off.
And since she was alone, she didnt have to compete for the super paint machine.
Still, as she began to work she wished she could hear Malorys andZoes voices, as she had before, turning all those empty rooms into something bright and cheerful.
She comforted herself that theyd finished priming Malorys section and had a good start on hers. It would be a kick to finish her own space with her own hands.
She could begin to play with different setups in her head. Should she shelve mysteries here, or was this a better spot for nonfiction? Local interest?
Wouldnt it be fun to display coffee-table books on, haha , a coffee table?
Maybe she could find an old breakfront somewhere for the caf? section. She could display tins of tea, mugs, books. Should she go with those cute round tables that reminded her of an ice cream parlor, or the more substantial square ones? Wouldnt this room be the perfect place to set up a cozy reading corner, or would it be smarter to use that space for a small childrens play area?
It was therapeutic to watch the clean white paint cover the dull beige, stroke by stroke marking the room as her own. No one could push her out of here as shed been pushed out of the library. She was working for herself this time, and setting the rules herself.
No one could cut her off from this dream, from this love, as shed been cut off from other dreams. From other loves.
“Do you think it matters? A little shop in a little town? Will you work, struggle, worry, pour your mind and your heart into something so meaningless? And why? Because you have nothing else.
“But you could.”
She felt the cold shiver over her skin. It made her breath come too fast, tightened the muscles of her stomach toward pain. She continued to paint, guiding the roller over the wall, listening to the faint hum of the motor. She couldnt seem to stop.
“It matters to me. I know what I want.”
“Do you?”
He was there, somehow there. She could sense him in the chill. Perhaps he was the chill.
“A place of your own. You thought you had one before, all those years of work, of serving others. Yet does anyone care that youre gone?”
It was a well-aimed arrow. Had anyone even noticed she was no longer at the library? All the people shed worked with, worked for? All the patrons shed helped? Had she been so replaceable that her absence hadnt caused a single ripple?
Hadnt she mattered at all?
“You gave the man your heart, your loyalty, but he cast you off without a thought. How much did you matter to him?”