I knocked but I guess you didn’t hear – #fridayfiction

[mybooktable book=”the-loft”]

I knocked but I guess you didn’t hear – #fridayfiction

On Thursday of the following week a moving van pulls into the driveway of Memory House and unloads the furniture from Oliver’s townhouse. Annie points to the precise spot where every item is to be placed and by early afternoon the house is exactly as she imagined it.

Well perhaps not exactly. There are still odds and ends to be done—unpack the boxes, set books on the shelves, hang the curtains, and find a spot where the painting of the Wyattsville Courthouse can be hung.
The side room that was once Ophelia’s sewing den is now Oliver’s study.

Although it is smaller than the study at the townhouse, everything fits. Annie unpacks the desk accessories then sets to polishing the furniture. She is pondering the arrangement of things when the cowbell clangs and Max comes charging in.

“I knocked, but I guess you didn’t hear.” She offers out a bottle of Merlot. “I figured tonight’s the night, so this is to go with dinner.”

Annie takes the bottle. “Thanks,” she says, “but tonight’s not the night. Tomorrow is. I want everything to be perfect and there’s still a lot to do.” She rattles off a list of still-to-be done chores.

“Can Oliver help with some of that stuff?”

Annie shakes her head. “He’d be glad to,” she says, “but with Judge Cooper on vacation, he doesn’t even have time for lunch.”

Max peels off her jacket and tosses it on the chair. “I’m not busy,” she says. “I’ll lend a hand.”

Once even the tiniest fleck of dust is gone from the office, they move on to the other rooms. Cleaning. Polishing. Shinning every surface until it gleams. It is almost six when they finish the downstairs.
Max drops onto the sofa and casts an eye around the room. “The place looks terrific,” she says. “So different from the way it was.”

Annie knows this is true. It is as Ophelia said. She and Oliver are no longer intruders; Memory House is now their home. Pieces of their life are visible in the furthest corner of every room. The sweetness of Ophelia’s memory is still here, but now it is simply a memory.
“Wait until you see the loft,” Annie says.

Max follows Annie up the stairs. When she peers into the room she sees the stacks of boxes to be unpacked, curtains waiting to be hung, and the ticking of a queen-size mattress that is yet to be covered, but already she can envision the room as it will be.

“Awesome,” she exclaims.

About the author

Bette Lee Crosby

USA Today Bestselling and Award-winning novelist Bette Lee Crosby's books are "Well-crafted storytelling populated by memorable characters caught up in equally memorable circumstances." - Midwest Book Review The Seattle Post Intelligencer says Crosby's writing is, "A quirky mix of Southern flair, serious thoughts about important things in life and madcap adventures." Samantha from Reader's Favorite raves, "Crosby writes the type of book you can't stop thinking about long after you put it down." "Storytelling is in my blood," Crosby laughingly admits, "My mom was not a writer, but she was a captivating storyteller, so I find myself using bits and pieces of her voice in most everything I write." It is the wit and wisdom of that Southern Mama Crosby brings to her works of fiction; the result is a delightful blend of humor, mystery and romance along with a cast of quirky charters who will steal your heart away. Her work was first recognized in 2006 when she received The National League of American Pen Women Award for a then unpublished manuscript. She has since gone on to win nineteen awards for her work; these include: TheRoyal Palm Literary Award, the FPA President's Book Award Gold Medal, Reader's Favorite Award Gold Medal, and the Reviewer's Choice Award.

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