Just Perfect

Just Perfect

The real estate agents heels clacked up the sidewalk, almost at a run. She was talking a mile a minute, her whiny voice grating on Sara's nerves. Sara didn't hear a word. She was tracing the cracks in the cement, filled with grass growing through them. Her eye followed them to the front steps, where the fidgety woman stood impatiently waiting for her. The front door was a faded gray with peeling paint. Not the welcome home sign she had hoped to find.

The agent had told her she'd found the perfect house for her. Affordable and ready to move in. Her hopes of finally moving out of her mother's house faded with each step she took. Stepping into the living room, a warmth surrounded her. She found floors that needed refinishing, walls that needed a coat of a paint and a rickety rail on the stairs. The aroma of apple pie filled her other senses, so she made her way to the kitchen, stepping around the agent who wanted to point out the wonderful windows.

White walls, appliances and floor greeted her. As if it had snowed on every surface. A large window over the sink allowed light to cover the entire space. It was small, but a table would fit nicely in the corner—a very small one. The door had a droopy little curtain covering the glass.

“Oh how nice. The owner must have put that pie in the oven this morning. Wasn't that thoughtful? A gift.”

Sara grinned at the agent. “Yes, very thoughtful.”

She proceeded to inspect the kitchen cupboards and small pantry. Sticking her nose inside to check for odors that shouldn't be there. Surprisingly, it smelled okay, faintly of pine cleaner. A washer and dryer sat around the corner in a small utility room of sorts—if you were skinny.

“Let's go look at the upstairs-- the bath is up there,” the agent said, whooshing out of the kitchen in a flurry of scarves and huge red coat.

Sara wasn't ready to leave her favorite room in this house, or in any other for that matter. The kitchen was her domain. She was still imagining how she could set it up for her baking. A small island would be necessary since there weren't many counters.

“Sara?”

“Yes, I'm coming.”

“Now, the bath has just recently been re-done. All new tile and flooring. It's quite nice.”

Sara peeked through the door before entering. White walls, tiles and tub. A bare bulb glowed over the sink, no fixture to soften the harsh light. She lifted the lid on the toilet and gave it a flush. She noticed there wasn't a towel rack anywhere in sight.

Down the hall, the bedrooms were small but would fit her furniture.

“I'd like to look at the yard,” she told Mrs. Abrams. “Is it fenced?”

“Oh, I don't know.”

This told Sara that she hadn't really spent much time checking this place out, for all her talk about how great it was. Just perfect for Sara's budget and needs. Her son would enjoy his own room...yada yada.

She opened the back door and looked out over the medium size yard. Okay, grass is good. An old swing set sat near the back, next to a small shed. Not many shrubs or any other type of landscaping adorned the mostly barren scene. Sara's lips formed a thin line as she turned to go back in. It would take a lot of work to make the outside of this place inviting.

“Isn't it just the perfect size for you to take care of? A woman alone, that is.”

Sara gave her a half smile, then looked away. “Hmm.”

“It is-- the perfect price.” The agent knew she had an uphill battle to fight now, so she pulled out all the stops. “Sara, you can afford this place. I don't have another listing anywhere close to this one. It's a good solid little house. It's up to you to decide to make it a home.” She looked at her watch and began to button her coat. She was finished for today.

Sara went out to the street and leaned against the car. Maybe some shutters and few shrubs wouldn't break the budget. She could paint the front door and plant flowers. A vision began to form.

“Alright, if the inspection comes back clean, I'll take it.”

A grin spread across the agents face. “Good. I'll start the paperwork as soon as I get back to the office. Call you tomorrow.”

Sara continued to stare at the house after she'd gone. Maybe it would feel more welcoming...she suddenly felt herself being hurled off of the car at the same time she heard a loud thump. The crunch of metal rang in her ears. Gathering herself up from the ground, she saw a truck stuck to the back of her car. The sight of it was so strange she couldn't move. A few seconds later, a man emerged from the truck.

He ran over to her. “Are you okay?” His hand reached for her arm. “I'm so sorry. That's the stupidest thing I've ever done.” He turned to look at his truck. It wasn't damaged too much, but the whole trunk of her car now sat in the back seat, the seats were tumbled over into the front. The tires still spun in the air, no longer sitting on the pavement, suspended on the bumper of the truck.

Sara couldn't believe her eyes. Her car was demolished.

“Are you alright, do I need to call the rescue squad?” he asked again.

“I'm fine.” She pulled her arm away from him, then looked at him. He was genuinely upset. “What in the world happened?”

“I wasn't looking at the road I'm afraid.”

“Ya think?”

The man began to apologize again. “I'm sorry. I'll be glad to pay for the damage.” His hand reached out to her. “I'm Carter Lewis. I live right there.” He nodded toward the house next to the one Sara had just agreed to buy.

She shook his hand and began to giggle. “Sara Blanchard.” She found the whole thing quite amazing. In the space of five minutes, she had agreed to buy a house, her car had been wrecked beyond recognition and met her new neighbor. It dawned on her that she had no way to get home either. Calling her mother was completely out of the question. She didn't plan on telling her about the house until it was a done deal.

Sara turned her head toward the voice. “I'm sorry, I was thinking about how I'll get home. I just agreed to purchase this house, but I don't live here yet.”

“I was telling you that I have another car, you're more than welcome to borrow it. That's the least I can do...after this.” His arm swept over the car. “I can't believe I let this happen. I'm not usually a bad driver. Not at all.”

Sara laughed. “What will you do for a vehicle if I take your other one?”

“I don't think it did much damage to mine. Guess we better call the cops and file a report.”

“Do... you have insurance?” Sara asked tentatively.

He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Handing her the card he said, “I've never had a claim before, except for a windshield that the ice cracked.”

“Me either.”

“I'll pay for any repairs that the insurance won't cover.”

Sara nodded, feeling confident that he would. She couldn't afford for her small nest egg to dwindle any more than it already had.

The cops came and took the report, giving Carter a pat on the back. When they were finished, they had Sara's car towed to a repair shop. She stood watching as the tail lights went out of sight, wondering what to do next.

“Come on over to the house and I'll get you the keys to the car. It's a little bigger than yours, but I'm sure you can manage it.”

Sara walked across the lawn next to him. She noticed he wasn't much older than she, not overly handsome, but nice enough to look at. His manners were impeccable. He held onto her elbow when the grass became difficult to walk through. He led them around to the back of the house. Once there, she could see that his house was much larger than the one next door, soon to be hers.

“Come on in. How about a cup of coffee before you go?” he asked.

“That would be wonderful. This has turned into rather a long...and unexpected day.”

He busied himself making the coffee, while she sat at the counter, twirling in her bar stool. “This house is really beautiful. I love all the counter tops in this kitchen. That's the bad part about the kitchen in...the house next door.” She couldn't bring herself to say 'mine' yet. “I'm trying to come up with a way to have more counter space.”

He laughed. “I can understand that. I built this on a couple of years ago. It wasn't always this big. I enjoy cooking. How about you?”

“Actually, I love it. As a matter of fact, that's what I do. Teach cooking.”

His eyes widened in appreciation as he placed the coffee in front of her. “Really, where?”

“Adult education classes throughout the city. The community college mostly, but some of the high schools too. If they have the set-up for it. Those are mostly night classes though. I try to avoid them. I also bake for several stores too.” She realized that she was telling him her life story and turned forty shades of red. Hiding behind the mug, she stopped talking.

He sat down next her. “That sounds great. A job you really enjoy.”

Noticing he seemed in awe of the fact she liked her job, she asked, “What about you?”

He laughed, a low somber sound. “I'm an accountant. My true love is building. Can't make a living at it in these economic times though. That's why I'm always tinkering with something here. I like working with my hands. Not just my fingers on a calculator.”

“When you said you you built on, you meant that you actually did it yourself?” She looked around at the well thought out kitchen with high end cabinets and appliances. “I'm impressed, you do beautiful work.”

He bent forward and looked at her. “How'd you decide to buy the house?”

Sara laughed. “I can afford it for one thing. The main thing. There aren't many around at that price. Believe me, I've looked for months. I need to settle somewhere other than my mother's house.”

He nodded, as if he understood her problem.

“Don't get me wrong. My mom is great. But she still thinks of me as a child. She likes to know where I am all the time and worries when I don't come straight home from work. She does care for my son though. That's a big savings.” She looked down into her cup. “She won't be happy when I tell her I've bought this house.”

“How old is your son?”

“Joey is six. First grade. This is still in his school district-- another good reason to buy here.” She didn't usually tell someone she'd just met about Joey. It felt nice to share it with this man though. “Do you have kids?”

He shook his head. “Wish I did. Haven't been lucky there either.” He took her cup and refilled it. “No husband to go with the son?”

She shook her head.

He nodded, but didn't pursue the matter. If she had wanted him to know more, she would have said. He'd leave it alone for now. She was far too pretty to be alone, and seemed to be grounded as well.

Sara stood up. “I'd better be going.”

“Sure, here's the keys and my card. If you have any trouble with the insurance, let me know. I didn't get your number.” He looked at her and smiled, then handed her the pad that sat at the end of the counter.

Sara wrote her cell number on it, along with her name in case he forgot. “Thank you so much for the use of the car. I hope it won't take too long to get mine fixed.”

“Don't worry about that. I don't need it. Nice to meet you, Sara, and again--sorry about the car.”

“It probably needed a new paint job anyway,” she said brightly as she waved goodbye.

Three weeks later, Sara and Joey pulled up to the house behind the moving van. Her car had been repaired and she'd returned the one that Carter had loaned her. Joey was excited to go look around. He jumped out of the car and ran to the door. It had been painted a lovely shade of red.

Sara couldn't believe her eyes. It was just the shade she would have chosen, but she couldn't imagine who had done it. Maybe the agent had it painted as a welcome present.

Her mother, Marge, pulled in behind her car and got out. “Oh Sara, it's adorable. It suits you, honey.”

Sara smiled and grabbed a box from the back seat. “I think it will—eventually.”

Her mother took the box from her and headed up the walk, Sara grabbed another and followed her. The movers were working at breakneck speed to unload the truck, furniture and boxes blocked her way to the kitchen. Glancing through the doorway, she noticed Joey talking to someone outside in the yard. She hurried over the blockade to the back door. Carter was leaning on the fence smiling.

“Hi Sara. Just wanted to welcome my new neighbors. How's the move going?”

“I have no idea. It's all a mess right now.” She watched her son run to the back of the yard and climb onto a new play area. “Oh. Where did that come from?”

“I told you I liked to build things.”

Sara looked him and wanted to cry. “You shouldn't have...it's way too much, Carter.”

“Look at him, Sara. He loves it. It'll make the move easier for him. He won't miss the old place as much. I enjoyed doing it. Do you mind?”

“No, I don't mind. Thank you very much.” Her son was squealing with delight as his swing went higher and higher.

Marge came to the door to see what had happened to Sara. Joey's laughter caught her attention. “Oh my, Sara. You didn't tell me about that.”

Sara smiled. “Mom, I'd like you to meet Carter, my neighbor. He built it for Joey.” She regretted her words as soon as they were out. Her mother didn't think she should think about a relationship with a man or anyone else. She didn't most of the time anyway.

“That was awfully nice of you, Carter.” Marge frowned and her gaze went back to her grandson.

“Thanks again, Carter. Gotta get back to work.” Sara brushed past her mother into the kitchen. She felt a tightness in her chest and her breath was a bit short, as if she'd been running. She leaned against the sink, pretending to check it for cleanliness.

“Well, that took a lot of nerve. Of all things, to just come over here and build that thing. Without even asking if it was okay. You'd better keep an eye on that one, Sara. He's far too familiar.” Marge opened a box of pans and began to sling them in a cabinet. “How would he know a little boy would be living here anyway? You didn't tell him, did you?”

“Of course I did, Mom. It's fine, really. Please don't worry about it. I happen to like Carter and he's been very good to me.”

“Of course you do, dear.” She slammed the cabinet door shut and went in the other room.

The movers had just about finished and were rolling up the last of the covers to go back in the truck. She thanked them and shut the front door. Then she opened it again and admired the new paint job up close. She would have to thank Carter for that too.

“Mom, help me in here. I'll get to the kitchen later.”

Sara and Joey snuggled together after dinner on the sofa. Her mother had gone and they had the house to themselves. “Do you think you're going to like living here, honey?”

Joey grinned. “I love my new play set. Did you know it has a slide, Mom? It's really cool...but I'm not sure about my room...it's kind of dark.” His fingers played with the edge of his shirt.

Sara sat up straight. “I have an idea. Come on.”

They went upstairs and Sara found the box she wanted in the spare room. She pulled out a lamp she'd bought especially for the move. She'd forgotten about it with all the unpacking to do everywhere else in the house. “Look honey, the base lights up. It's the perfect night light for your room.”

Joey rubbed his finger along the base that looked like a baseball player. “Cool. Can we hook it up now?”

“Sure we can.”

Sara closed the door part way and looked back at her child, dozing off in the gentle glow from his lamp. She was grateful that she'd made the purchase of the lamp. It lent just the right amount of light to ease his fears. Six year old boys had great imaginations, especially at night when shadows created monsters on the walls and the wind rustled the leaves outside.

Back downstairs she straightened the books on the shelf and looked around the room. It was cozy. When the curtains went up on the windows it would be perfect. As she headed to the kitchen to start her nightly baking, there was a knock on the door. She hesitated, then went to the door.

“Who is it?”

“Carter. Is it too late?”

She opened the door a crack and peered out. “Oh, it is you. Just wanted to make sure.” She laughed and held the door open for him. “Come in.”

He handed her gift bag. “Just a little house warming, nothing much. Thought Joey might like them.”

Sara peeked inside the bag, it was filled with apples and tangerines. “Very thoughtful, thank you. I seem to be constantly thanking you. The door is perfect. How did you know?”

Carter grinned. “Lucky guess.”

“I had planned to paint it just that color red myself. Come on in, how about a cup of coffee?”

“Great.”

She took him through to the kitchen and offered him a seat at the tiny ice cream table in the corner, while she made the coffee. “Do you mind if I go ahead and get my baking started while we chat?”

“Of course not. Can I help?”

She laughed. “Not much room for two to cook in here. Just sit while I figure out how I'm going to do this.” She poured his coffee, then pulled out large metal bowls from the lower cabinets. One went in the sink, the other on the small surface beside it. She reached up in another cabinet and pulled down a bag of flour and the rest of the ingredients, lining them up on the window sill.

She turned around to see Carter about to bust with laughter. “What?”

“This is hilarious. You don't even have a place to put the muffing tins. Are you going to line them up on the floor?”

Her hands went to her hips. “If I have to. Got any better suggestions?”

“As a matter of fact I do. Use my kitchen.”

Sara stared at him in disbelief for several seconds. “That would be ridiculous.”

Carter stood up. “Look, I'll stay here and watch T.V. while you get it done. Tomorrow I'll build you a counter to use for the time being.”

Sara started laughing. She had to sit down and wipe her eyes on the apron she'd wrapped around her waist. “Carter, do you always do this much for a new neighbor? I'll be in your debt so deep, there won't be a cake big enough to pay you back.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “You don't have to consider it a debt at all. I told you-- I like building things. It won't be much yet anyway. More of adding sturdy legs to an old table I have in the garage.”

“What do you mean—yet?”

He walked over to the wall that separated the kitchen from the small dining room. Laying his hand against it, he said, “Let's take this wall down and create a bigger kitchen.”

“I would love to do that. I simply can't afford it.”

“It won't cost you anything, but maybe some nails and screws. I have enough materials in my garage to do this in a weekend. You can help and we'll have it done in no time at all.”

“Carter! I can't allow you to...keep helping me. I just can't.” She turned away, her hands shaking.

“Are you too proud to accept help when it's offered?” he asked quietly.

“What can I do for you in return? So far, it's been all you helping me. I need to feel that I can repay you somehow. It won't be with money, that's for sure.” Realizing how that may have sounded to a single man, she turned a deep scarlet.

He smiled and took her hands in his. “I need to be well fed when I'm working on a project. I'll expect to have food in front of me at all times.”

Gently, she slid her hands out of his. “Deal.” She looked around the tiny kitchen and wondered what had possessed her to think it would work. At least the materials wouldn't cost her anything—she hoped.

“How do you start something like this? I've never been around any construction before.”

“Don't you worry about that. You'll get the idea once we get started. For now, let's take this stuff over to my house, or you'll be at it all night long.”

She had to agree that his plan was better than hers had been. He helped her carry all of her baking materials over to his house. Then showed her how to work everything in his kitchen before going back to her house.

On Saturday, Carter was in the yard with a stack of lumber before Sara was out of bed. She saw him out the window and hurried to dress and wake Joey. By mid morning they had knocked down the wall and cleaned up the debris. Sara's hair had a white cover of plaster dust on it, as did the entire downstairs. They had put plastic over the stairs to keep the cleanup to a minimum.

“Carter, it already looks like a whole new place with just the wall gone. What's next? How can I help?”

Carter gathered the sledge hammer and crowbar in his arms and said, “First, I need to add a little wiring. There was only one plug in this wall-- that won't run all of your equipment. It won't take long, but I am feeling a bit gnarly. How 'bout a muffin break?”

Sara grinned and reached into the container. She handed him an apple/pecan muffin and watched as he devoured it. “Another?”

“No thanks. You can start vacuuming while I get this wire run.”

Even though she wondered how much it all cost, she was thrilled to see the difference in the small cottage. She couldn't wait to see how the counter would look. Joey would love it too when he got back from her moms. She'd sent him to stay with her so he wouldn't get hurt or in the way. By the time the dust was all gone and the room set back up, Carter began hauling in lumber. None of it looked like counter material to her. It was rough two by fours and a few larger pieces too. She began to worry that it would look like Joey's play set outside. She stood staring at the small pile of lumber.

“You can stop worrying. This is only for the structure part. Not the counter itself.” He laid his foot on the larger piece of lumber. “This is for the beam across the top. You didn't think I'd leave it bare did you?”

His grin was contagious and she felt rejuvenated. “Just tell me what to do.”

In the evening around seven, they stood back and admired the new counter. The butcher block top was perfect for her needs. He even brought over four stools that he had in his garage. They fit nicely under the over hang on the other side. He had even built the shelves inside the cabinet part to fit her bulky pans. The stained beam overhead was beautifully done, with three hanging lights from it.

“I still don't understand how you had all of this in your garage. Where did the lights come from?”

Carter shifted his weight and narrowed his eyes. “These were in my old kitchen. I didn't like them at all at the time. They look pretty good up there though. I was worried about using them when I planned this out. But I figured I could change them later.” He reached up and touched one. “Glad I saved them now.”

“Me too, because I think they are wonderful.” Sara rubbed the smooth surface of the counter. “Do I have to be careful with this. I mean, can I sit hot pans on it?”

“Sure you can. Remember the oil we used? You'll have to do that about once a month, that's all. It's a great surface for your needs.”

“Carter...I can't begin to thank you for this.”

“No need, Sara. I've enjoyed it. I feel like...we've developed a true friendship.” He turned a soft shade of pink. “I'm hoping it continues to grow.”

It was her turn to turn pink. “Me too.”

He took her hand and covered it with his other one. “So, does the counter suit you?”

She squeezed his hand. “Just perfect.”