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“Really? How fascinating. So, she was an artist?”
“Yeah.” He tips his beer, pointing with the neck of the bottle. “That painting is one of hers, and that sculpture in the corner.”
I crane my neck and look at first the painting. It’s a beautiful poppy flower in bright reds and orange. The sculpture is the torso of a woman’s nude body. It’s really good. “Wow. She was talented.”
“She was.”
“Did Elliott inherit any of her things?”
“Nope. She never got along with him. She left everything to me.”
“He never talked about her.”
“She was my maternal grandmother. My father never liked her, so we rarely ever saw her. He thought she was eccentric. She moved to Durango when she became a widow. We were little then. I barely remember my grandfather. I only reconnected with her after I got out of the military. I came to visit and just sort of stayed. I was here with her until the day she died.”
“When was that?”
“About five years ago.”
“I’m sure she loved having you here.”
“She did. She was an old soul, but she had a wonderful sense of humor. She lived life to the fullest. I was lucky to spend her final years with her.”
“She was lucky to have you.”
He takes a hit off his beer. “Come on. I’ll show you the guest room.”
Leaving my beer on the island, I follow him to a set of stairs that lead down. The house is on a slope, so there are windows in the lower level. There’s a bedroom on one side and an office of sorts on the other. It looks like it’s mostly used for storage. The bedroom is neat and clean, but small.
He points toward a door. “There’s a small bathroom through there.”
“I’m sure this will be fine.”
“Well, let me show you the apartment. Maybe you’d like it better.”
I follow him up the stairs, through the house, and across the deck.
He unlocks a door and leads me into a spacious room with a tiny kitchenette against one wall. There’s a nice size bathroom and a slider leads to a small private deck overlooking the side street.
“This is lovely.”
“Then it’s yours,” he says, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. No sense in it sitting empty.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll make us something to eat, and let you get settled then.”
“Do you need any help?”
“Nope. I’ve got it covered. Come to the house when you’re through unpacking.”
Twenty minutes later, I’ve got everything put away. I unpack Rosie’s bowls and bag of food and set it on the deck for her. She digs in, and I wander into the main house.
The moment I enter, a delicious aroma hits my nose.
