Sweet Life Read Online Free Page B

walked to the wooden zigzag of steps behind the house and descended the cliff where waves splashed over the thick stretches of black clams clinging to the boulders. A ghostly mist hung across the Juan de Fuca Strait, hiding the mountains of the mainland.
    She needed an idea to sail out of that mist, an inkling of what could be better than standing on her feet in Ed Whyte’s store and having to endure sympathy from people like Mrs. Warner. She considered her finances and assets. She rejected the idea of renting out rooms. Now she was free to do as she pleased in the large house, she couldn’t have anyone around who might interfere. And then she thought of the garage.
    On the garage’s outside was a stairway leading up to a small landing, and a door opening to a space that included a three-piece bath. Bert had expected to use the area as his office once the rooms in the house were taken over by his children. The children he didn’t get.
    Angie hurried up the stairs and back to the house. Without stopping to remove her coat, she laid a sheet of wide paper onto the kitchen table and sketched the garage’s exterior, careful to include the gable over the upstairs window. She took another piece of paper and squared off rooms. There would be an eat-in kitchen, its window beneath the gable. Beyond would be a small living room, and a hallway leading to the bathroom and bedroom. On a smaller sheet of paper she wrote down numbers, and then read through ads in the rental section of the newspaper. She could make more money renting out an apartment than she could make working at the store.
    ~

    The carpenter Angie hired to build the apartment finished it by July. A week later, she ran the newspaper ad. “Near Sultan. One bedroom, furnished apartment over garage.”
    She informed male callers that the apartment was taken. The couples she warded off by stressing its minuteness. She was more inventive with Mrs. Warner’s granddaughter, Codie, a girl dressed in black and a tangle of coloured beads. She waved at the curtains. “I can redecorate, right?”
    Debra Arthur was the only person to comment on the needlework and added: “Isn’t it ridiculous how long doilies been out of style?”
    A petite woman exuding confidence and energy, she was a nurse who worked at a care home in Victoria. She paid cash for her first month’s rent, explaining she hadn’t had time since moving to the island to set up an account. She looked so capable in her blue smock that Angie didn’t ask for a damage deposit.
    The day after Debra signed a year’s lease, Angie gave two weeks’ notice to Ed Whyte while he stood next to a freezer, holding a wrapped chicken. “Leave now and I’ll pay out your two weeks.” He unconsciously jerked his arms as though encouraging the chicken to nip Angie.
    Bernice demanded to know how her own sister could be this ungrateful. “How could you make such a huge decision without asking my advice? Michael works in construction and you didn’t ask him for help.”
    Angie realized she had, just in time, thwarted Bernice’s attempts to wedge herself into the gap vacated by Bert. She had her apartment. She had her renter. And she’d done it all herself.
    ~

    Angie began to imagine what the apartment looked like with Debra Arthur’s own touches. Perhaps a ceramic fruit bowl on the table; books and magazines stacked in neat piles in the living room. There would be vials of cream, scented shampoo in the bathroom and, in the bedroom closet, smocks, casual pants and pretty blouses.
    Angie could give herself a quick tour while Debra was at work, but she’d no idea of Debra’s work schedule. What if she forgot something, came back and caught Angie inside? Or got sick and came home early? Angie did make a point of looking in the yard for Debra’s grey mini-van, kept track of the times it was home, but after two weeks she still couldn’t determine Debra’s work schedule.
    For September’s rent, Debra once again paid with cash.