There was now an extra spring in her step as she looked forward to her upcoming move. She was going to have trouble getting to sleep, even though she was exhausted down to her very bones. But she was moving to a real house, and things were now most certainly looking up.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The two men stomped through the trimmed grass in their newly purchased black clothes, hoods over their heads, thinking they were being quiet, but their steps and voices could probably be heard two blocks away.
“Quiet down or we’re going to get busted,” Sherman whispered in anything but a quiet tone.
“I am being quiet. You’re the one making all the noise,” Joseph responded, excitement clear in his voice.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Sherman said with the tiniest hint of an apology in his words.
“If you’re going to be a proper meddler, then you have to do what has to be done,” Joseph told his friend as they stopped in front of the quaint cottage.
“Such a shame, though,” Sherman said, but his lips were turned up in anticipation.
“Do you have the wrench?”
“Of course I have the wrench, Joseph,” Sherman told him with a roll of his eyes.
“Where is Cooper off to this time?” Joseph asked as Sherman took out his key and opened the cottage door.
“I think Atlanta. All I know is he’s gone,” Sherman assured Joseph.
The two men stepped inside the quaint cabin and went over to the kitchen sink, then slowly sat in front of it after opening the cupboards.
“What do we do now?” Joseph asked as he looked at the pipe and then at Sherman.
“We just undo this bolt right here and turn on the water,” Sherman said with glee.
“Well, get on it before someone comes and busts us,” Joseph said as he rubbed his hands together. “And make it look like a faulty bolt.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Sherman grumbled before he slowly bent and began undoing the pipe. “Damn this old body. I used to be able to get up and down so fast.” He cursed as his knuckle hit the pipe and instantly bruised. “Got it!”
With triumph, the two men stood, helping each other up as they turned the faucet on, not too high, but enough to flood the floors.
When water began dribbling out of the cupboard, the men high-fived and then quickly made their exit from the cottage.
Safely back in their car, they needed to brag of their deed to someone, so they called their good buddy Martin who was having his own matchmaking delights in Montana. The man, of course, was jealous of their masterminding tactics.
“Tomorrow will be a good day,” Sherman told Joseph.
“I only wish we could be there to see Cooper and Stormy together,” Joseph pouted.
“Oh, we will, my friend . . . at the wedding,” Sherman said with a confident grin.
With a smile, they drove off. Anyone who might say they’d lost their touch in their old age certainly didn’t know the men well at all. They were in the primes of their lives as far as they were concerned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As promised, Amy arrived at Stormy’s apartment bright and early the next morning. Stormy’s spartan lifestyle offered little resistance to the big move.
Her low-income life had ingrained in her the ideals of simple living. She kept possessions to a minimum, not out of some obedience to a pious and minimalist lifestyle, but more out of the necessity of tight spaces. Not only that, but until she’d been ten, her parents had dragged her all around the world, so packing had to be kept to a minimum.
The largest and most difficult of Stormy’s items was her futon, which was used exclusively as a bed. In fact, this was Stormy’s only piece of furniture, aside from her milk crate nightstand.
“I hate this old thing. It’s not the most comfortable, and I’m more than ready to leave it behind,” Stormy said with a smile. “I’m moving into a cottage, so even if it isn’t furnished, which I forgot to ask Sherman about, I’m sure it has soft, plush carpet.”
“Smart thinking, but the rich people like their decorating, so you probably will have one of those Monarch Vispring beds with something like three thousand springs in it.”
“I’ve never heard of that,” Stormy said.
“Yeah, cause it’s priced at about fifty thousand bucks,” Amy told her.
“For fifty thousand bucks, the dang bed better massage me, bathe me, and tuck me in for a good night’s rest,” Stormy told her.
“No. That’s what the master of the house is for,” Amy said with a wink.
“I guarantee you there’s no way that’s gonna happen,” Stormy said emphatically.
Amy gave her a look that said she didn’t believe her, but at least she let the subject drop.
After the last of her items were loaded into Amy’s full car, the two women climbed inside and drove off, bound for Gig Harbor.
The drive was typical for Seattle, traffic was bumper to bumper, but they soon found themselves crossing the straits of Puget Sound on the Tacoma Narrows Bridge. The point of no return, Stormy thought to herself as she started running over the items she might have left behind. Her mind was eased knowing that she’d taken all that was important to her and anything left wouldn’t have mattered anyway.
The bridge ended with the entrance to the quaint neighboring town of Gig Harbor. This once bustling fishing and boat-building community now existed as more of a tourist attraction. People from all parts of the Northwest came to enjoy the small shops and attractive parks that adorned the area.