A Bungalow For Two. Carole Page Gift

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ

      Until now she had never seriously considered moving out of her father’s house. As long as he had needed her, she had vowed to be there for him. But the bitter truth was, he didn’t need her anymore. He had Juliana and her strange, reclusive daughter, and he seemed perfectly content to make them his family now.

      But maybe her father’s marriage was a blessing in disguise. Frannie was twenty-four now, too old to still be living at home under her daddy’s watchful eye. Maybe it was time to step out, explore the world and carve a new life for herself. There was no telling what—or who—awaited her in this vast, beckoning land.

      Chapter Three

      For two days, Frannie put off phoning the rental number to inquire about the beach house. She vacillated between excitement at the prospect of moving into a place of her own and horror at the thought of leaving her father and the home she had lived in all her life. Wouldn’t moving out show that she had truly given up on salvaging her family? Or was God trying to tell her something, nudging her to take responsibility for her own life and future?

      On the third day, Frannie gathered her courage and dialed the number. She learned the house was still available and the rent was less than she might have expected for beachfront property, even though the house was a bit dilapidated. “I’ll take it,” she heard herself saying. Her heart began to pound with anticipation and a pinch of anxiety.

      What am I doing? she asked herself the next day as she drove to the beach house to meet the real estate agent for an official walk-through. “What could I have been thinking?” she wondered aloud an hour later as she returned home with a signed rental agreement and a set of keys.

      That evening she cornered her father in his study and told him the news. By the stunned look on his face, she might as well have told him she was taking the next shuttle into space.

      “Aren’t you happy here, sugar plum?” he asked blankly.

      She fought the tears gathering in her eyes. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—lose control. All she could manage to blurt out was “You have Juliana now, and you like her spaghetti better than mine!”

      He got up from his desk, came around and drew her into his arms. “Spaghetti? This is about spaghetti?”

      “No, Daddy. It’s just…you don’t need me anymore. You have a new family.”

      He caressed her hair. “I’ll always need you, baby cakes. You know that. I need you to be my loving daughter, but not my cook, housekeeper and caretaker. I let you fill those roles much too long.” He kissed her forehead. “And who says I like Juliana’s spaghetti better than yours? Nothing can top yours.”

      Frannie sniffled like a sulking child. “You’re not just saying that?”

      Her father grinned broadly. “Are you kidding? I’m a minister of the Gospel. I’m committed to telling the truth, and only the truth. And the truth is, I saw this coming. I understand why you’d want a place of your own. But I’ll miss you like crazy, pumpkin. And no matter where you go or what you do, nobody can take your place in my heart.”

      She smiled through her tears. “Then I have your blessing?”

      “My blessing, my love and my prayers. I just ask you to make sure this is what you really want. And promise me, anytime you decide this isn’t for you, you’ll come home.”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll come home to visit. I’ll be here so often, you’ll get sick of me.”

      “Never in a million years.” Her father kissed her forehead, then clasped her face in his large hands. “This beach house—is it safe? In a good area?”

      “Of course, Daddy. It’s perfect.”

      “Well, 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 СКАЧАТЬ