Shelter in Place (Page 61)

Why not?

Taking that angle, they’d both study survivors who’d relocated south.

“I’m really glad you finally made it out. Next time,” he told her, “steaks on the grill for the whole family.”

“Do you have actual dishes?”

“Ah … sort of.”

“Buy dishes, and a bed. Feather your nest, partner. It’s a really great nest.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez, my mother said the same thing, and even threatened to make my dad haul stuff from the attic out here.”

“Buy your own.” She jabbed him in the chest. “You’re a big boy now.” She started to kiss his cheek, then glanced over at the knock on the door.

“Company.”

He went to the door, grinned when he opened it to CiCi. “Hello, gorgeous. You’re just in time to meet one of my favorite people.” Taking her hand, he tugged her in. “CiCi Lennon, Essie McVee.”

“We’ve met.” CiCi, a bright green tam over flowing red hair, strode over in her ancient UGGs, took Essie’s hand. “You might not remember.”

“I do. I met you, briefly, outside of Mi-Hi Jung’s hospital room.”

“I didn’t realize,” Reed said.

“You wanted to check on her and Simone,” CiCi said. “My impression at the time was of a dedicated and caring woman. I’m never wrong. You’re here to spend some time with Reed.”

“I’ve spent it. What a terrific house. Better when it’s got some actual furniture.”

“Okay, Mom.”

“I’ve got to run, make the ferry. I’m glad I got a chance to see you again, Ms. Lennon.”

“CiCi. Reed, next time, you bring Essie over to see us. I hope you bring your husband and little boy.”

“I’m planning on it. Reed.” Essie hugged him, kissed his cheek. “I’m proud of you, Chief.”

“Go on and walk Essie out to her car,” CiCi ordered. “There’s a package for you in mine. You can bring it in.” She unwound a bright green scarf as she spoke. “I’m going to help myself to a glass of wine, if you have some, Reed.”

“Got the white and the red you like.”

“My man. Come back soon, Essie.”

CiCi tossed her coat, scarf, and hat on a truly deplorable sofa. Essie was right about furniture, CiCi thought, deciding on the white Reed had chilling in the refrigerator, as she liked it.

She poured two glasses. He’d rather have a beer, she thought, but she hoped her housewarming gift rated the wine.

He came back, loaded down with the package. “You had to drive with the window down to fit it in there. It’s cold, CiCi.”

“We islanders are sturdy stock.”

“It’s a painting.” A big one, and he could feel the frame under the thick brown paper she’d wrapped it in. “You did a painting for me.”

“I did, and I hope you’ll like it.”

“I don’t even have to see it to know I’ll love it.”

“It’d be more fun if you did see it. Come on, come on, get the paper off. I have a strong opinion where it needs to go. We’ll see what you think.”

He had to lay it on the kitchen island to peel off the tape, pull the protective cardboard from the corners of the frame. He flipped it over, took a sheet of cardboard from the front.

And stared, stunned, grateful, overwhelmed.

“Holy shit, CiCi.”

“I take that as approval.”

“I don’t even know what to say. It’s amazing.”

The beach, the rocks, the strip of sand, all the colors so vivid and strong. Birds winged over the water; a white boat glided toward the horizon. The bluest of blue skies spread, and one of the filmy white clouds formed a dragon like the one guarding her guest room.

A few shells, exquisitely detailed, dotted the sand like scattered treasures.

And two figures sat on the rocks, angled toward each other, looking out.

“It’s us,” he murmured. “It’s you and me.”

“It won’t be the last time I paint you, but it’s a good start.”

“I don’t know what to say.” He looked at her. “I honestly don’t know how to thank you. It’s magic. Just like you.”

“That’s a perfect thing to say. We look right, don’t we? Kindred souls reunited.”

“I really love you, CiCi.”

“I really love you right back. Where do you think you want to hang it?”

“It has to go there, over the fireplace. It has to be where you can see it from everywhere.”

“You’re exactly right. No time like the now. I’ve got hangers.” She reached in her pocket for them. “And a drill in the car, if you don’t have one.”

“Yeah, I got one.”

“And a tape measure. Let’s get it done, and done right.”

She proved fussy about the accuracy of measuring, and beat him to hell and back on the math part of it. But with her fussing, calculating, and assistance, he hung his first piece of art in his new home.

“I have an original CiCi Lennon. Hell, I’m in an original CiCi Lennon. And it’s awesome.”

She handed him his glass, tapped hers to it. “To you and your happy home.”

He drank with her, then drew her in. “Where would I be now if you hadn’t walked down that morning?”

“You were meant to be here, so here you are.”

“Sure feels like it.” He kissed the top of her head. “I guess I’m going to have to get serious about furniture. Nothing down here’s worthy of the painting.”

“You’re right. Start by getting rid of that ugly couch.”

He felt a little pang for the memories made on that ugly couch. The naps taken, the sports watched, the girls he’d gotten naked.

Then he looked up at the painting, and thought of memories yet to come.

* * *

The island didn’t have an actual furniture store, but it did offer a kind of flea market antiquey sort of place. He found some things there, and at the single year-round gift shop he liked, used the Internet for more.

He tried not to think too much about the seeping wounds on his credit card.

Still, the island shopping served the dual purpose of public relations. And trading a six-pack for help hauling, assembling, placing the furniture with Cecil gave him the opportunity to get to know the deputy better.

For instance, he learned Cecil had a more experienced hand with tools. The man wasn’t fast, but he was tireless.

Together, they stood back and studied the bed—Reed’s first purchase, because he definitely wanted the girl of his dreams in it. He’d even gone for a new mattress set.

“That’s a nice bed, Chief.”

“You think? Yeah, it works.”

Simple, he thought, but not so basic it looked like he didn’t give a damn. He liked the vertical slats, the low footboard that wouldn’t get in his way, the faded charcoal color.

“You wanna put the sheets and stuff on it?”

“I’ll deal with that later. Let’s get the rest loaded in. I appreciate it, Cecil.”

“Hell, I don’t mind. I like putting things together. And it’s a cool house.”

By the time he passed Cecil the beer, he had a furnished bedroom, a new couch, a second bed—queen-size, as ordered—set up in the guest room along with nightstands and lamps. Not too matchy, he hoped.