A Different Blue(79)

on, new fascia, new windows. We reformed the steps and laid them and the sidewalk in stone. The

landscapers came in and really cleaned up the yard too. The old girl has had a complete

makeover, really.”

He bounded up the steps and unlocked the door. I followed more sedately. How would it be to have

the money to instigate a makover like he'd given “the old girl?” Sure it was still work. It

was probably still a headache to deal with contractors and construction. I couldn't imagine

having the vision to put it all together. But how would it be to be able to do whatever you

wanted . . . within reason? I wondered randomly if I was Wilson's new project. Maybe he would

make me over.

“This is what I wanted to show you.” He led me to a door off of the foyer that I hadn't even

noticed the last time I had been inside. It was partially hidden behind the sweep of the stairs.

“You see how we've divided the house into two flats upstairs, yet there's only one down? It's

because when the house was built, the staircase was slightly offset to the right. That made all

the rooms on this side of the house smaller. My rooms sit over the garage somewhat, so I still

have plenty of space. But down here things are pretty cramped. I thought maybe at some point I

would live down here and let my flat, but I can't stand up straight in the shower – you'll see

why – and honestly, I like my flat upstairs. I also thought we could let it to a handyman of

sorts. But that has turned out to be me, which makes it easier for me to justify staying in my

flat because I'm saving money on not hiring someone else.”

As he talked we walked inside the small apartment. The space had the same wood floors as the

foyer, and the walls had been freshly painted. A little entryway opened up into a small sitting

room, which Wilson called a “lounge,” bordered by a galley kitchen complete with a stainless

steel sink, a black fridge and stove, and a narrow slash of black countertop. It was all new and

shiny and smelled like wood and paint and starting over. A bedroom and bathroom, every bit as

new and every bit as small, completed the tiny apartment. I stepped into the shower and saw what

Wilson had meant.

“The duct work runs through here. It was our only option. The ceiling is less than six feet

right here above the shower, which won't be a problem for you unless you like to shower in those

ridiculously high boots you like to wear.”

“I can't afford this place, Wilson. It's small, but it's really nice. I work at the cafe, I'm

pregnant, and there's no space to carve, which means my financial situation probably isn't going

to improve if I live here.”

“You can afford it, trust me. And the best part? Come on. I'll show you.” He was through the

bathroom door and back in the kitchen in about ten steps.

“This door here? It isn't a pantry. It leads to the basement. I thought if this was the

handyman's flat, he would need easy access, so we didn't cover the original door when we drew

the floorplan. I do my laundry down there. The furnace and water heater are down there, along

with all the fuse boxes, etc. There's an outside entrance too, so I can access it without

traipsing through your flat. And it's huge. There's plenty of space for you to set up shop. You

might get a bit cold in the winter, but we could get you a little space heater. And in the