“Top secret stuff?” I joked, scratching at the back of my neck.
She stood and looked at me, her brows drawn together. “Just work stuff for emergencies only. If I don’t put it out of sight, I’ll find myself replying to emails and taking calls, and I am here to relax, not work.” It seemed she was trying to convince herself of that more than me. We had more in common than she knew. I too had to keep busy. Idle hands, as they say, are the devil’s workshop.
“I can lock it away in the basement if ya want.”
“I like the idea but that won’t be necessary.” Grace unzipped her large suitcase and flung it open, revealing a stack of books and a perfectly organized bag. I knew she liked to read. It was on her Airbnb profile, and I figured she’d spend a lot of her time here with her nose in a book. Everything was contained in individual packing cubes. Grace opened one up and dumped a pile of lacy bras and silky panties onto the floral bedspread. She glanced at me briefly and then directed her attention back at her task. I took that as my cue that Grace wanted to be left alone.
“I’ll leave you to it.” I tipped an imaginary hat and took a couple of steps back toward the hall.
Her head snapped in my direction, and her mouth slowly parted. “Actually, why don’t you show me around first. I can unpack later.”
“I’d love to. Let’s start with the fridge, cuz I could use a beer right about now.” I chuckled.
Grace cracked a smile. “Same,” she said.
I didn’t take her for a beer girl, and I couldn’t help but smile either.
Before she stepped toward me, Grace pulled off her heels and let out a sigh of relief while she wiggled her toes. Her toenails were painted a deep scarlet red like her fingernails.
Out in the kitchen, I pulled two Bud Lights from the fridge and popped the tops off against the heavy wood countertop. Grace took one from me. The lip of the bottle rested in between her full lips, and she made a refreshing sound when she was done. I stared in awe.
Grace held the bottle in her hand, rotating it a couple of times as if she were actually reading the label. I took a long swig. The beer fizzled against my tongue and warmed my insides almost immediately.
“This right here is the kitchen,” I said, gesturing to the room.
“I figured that much,” she teased.
The corners of my lips stretched in opposite directions. I tried to hide my enthusiasm but my body wasn’t listening to my brain. I’m sure my cheeks were red too.
Grace glanced around the room.
The kitchen matched the available resources of our surroundings. Wood cabinets and counters with the raw material exposed made it look like the inside of a tree. Since I was the only one here, everything in the kitchen was for function, not form. No excess decorations or unnecessary show pieces like copper pots hanging from a rack. Just a simple wooden kitchen with a knife block, coffee pot, sink, and some appliances. I thought it was perfect but maybe that’s just for me.
“It’s simple, minimalist. I love it,” Grace complimented.
“Thanks. It doesn’t really match the rest of the house because, well . . .” I trailed off. It wasn’t something I liked talking about, and I hoped she wouldn’t ask. I led her into the living room.
“This was decorated by my mother. So it matches the style of your room.”
Old copies of unread magazines from publishers long out of print stood in a magazine rack. Afghans were piled next to the fireplace, and random portraits of old friends and moments from her past hung on the walls. Some of them I couldn’t even tell you who or what they were, but rather preferred to make up the story on my own.
Grace walked to a large bookshelf and ran her fingers along the spines of several books.
“You like to read?” she asked, glancing in my direction.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a nod.
“Me too.” She smiled.
I almost said I know, but I stopped myself. Her eyes went to the taxidermy mounts hung haphazardly around the living room. No rhyme or reason to their placement. My father’s touch. The head of a deer, elk, wolf, bighorn sheep, and mountain lion. No matter where you were standing in the room their black marble eyes followed you. I could tell Grace wasn’t fond of them. She crumpled up her face, carefully staring at each animal. Perhaps she thought one might leap right off the wall.
“They won’t bite,” I said with a laugh.
“I know that.” She bit at her lower lip. “It’s just a bit un . . . usual.”
“Around here, they’re not. But you’re not from around here.” I looked over at her, my gaze sliding from her feet up to her eyes. What was a girl like her doing in a place like this? “Want me to take them down?” I offered.
Grace looked like an alien who’d just landed on a new planet. She shook her head. “Oh no. Of course not.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll get used to them,” I said. It was true though. You get used to most anything.
She gave a slight nod but didn’t say another word.
We moved down the hall, and I pointed out the bathroom, the third bedroom, and the door to my bedroom. I showed her the linen closet where the towels and extra blankets and pillows were. She was quiet, just observing and taking it all in. We headed back down the hall, and she stopped.
“What’s this?” she said, gesturing to a door with a padlock on it.
“Oh, that goes down to the basement. It’s off-limits. You don’t want to go down there anyway. It’s unfinished so it’s just a bunch of spiders and old stuff and a heavy odor of mildew.” I quickly beckoned her with my hand, “Right this way.”
When I didn’t hear her move, I turned back. She was stopped in front of the door, staring at it. I knew then she wanted to see what was on the other side. When you told someone they couldn’t do something, it always made them want to do it. Curiosity always got the best of us, hence why I added the padlock. Grace must have felt my eyes on her because she snapped her head in my direction and gave a smile that seemed to quiver.
“Shall we?” she said in a high-pitched voice. I found her change in tone a bit odd but then again I was just getting to know her—so everything was odd.
Back in the kitchen, I pulled open the sliding door to a large wooden deck I had installed last summer. It was a nice sitting area with several outdoor couches, chairs, and end tables. Two grills stood next to each other near the railing, a gas and a charcoal.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, taking in the view.
It was the perfect backdrop of what Wyoming had to offer. A pasture with sheep and cows, the river cutting across the back forming the edge of the property line, thick pine woods jutting up just beyond the banks of the river, and the mountains in the distance, towering over the entire scene. It was about the only thing I liked about being back in Wyoming. There ain’t much to do. There ain’t many people my age. But it is beautiful. I’ll give it that.
“It really is,” I said, looking over at Grace. She glanced at me, smiled again, and drank the rest of her beer in one swig. I was about to ask her why she picked Dubois, Wyoming, but she spoke first.
“I’m going to finish unpacking.” She turned on her foot and headed toward the sliding door.