A Writer's Cabin: Part 1.

Retreating to an isolated cabin, a famous author finds love.

Based on a post by PickFiction. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

"Dale, nice of you to drop in." Katherine's sardonic smile told me how she really felt.

"I have an appointment."

"That hasn't always mattered in the past." I'd missed one appointment in nearly a year, but Katherine loved to jab me with the nits she picked.

"I suppose. You make bundles off me, though", I retorted.

"So, that gives you the right to ignore appointments and not even have the common courtesy to let me know."

I'd left my cell phone at a restaurant. "Listen, if you want to drop me from your list of clients, we can work that out. You're getting to be a pain in the ass to deal with, Katherine. Plus, this office of yours on the forty-fourth floor is a pain. I get an upset stomach riding the elevator." Being from New York and hating elevators did not meld well, but somehow, I'd survived.

"My poor delicate author. Perhaps you should try the stairs."

"Perhaps we should try some Zoom appointments." I wondered why Katherine and I could never have a friction-free meeting. Maybe it was our signs. I'm a Libra and I'd learned earlier that she was an Aries. Silly, perhaps, but there was definitely something. I think we rather enjoyed skirmishing with each other.

"Bars are kind of noisy for Zoom calls." She objected.

"You don't know me at all, Katherine. I don't drink in public -- oh, maybe a glass of wine at those idiotic things you schedule for me."

"Those idiotic things sell your books."

I hated to admit that I needed to sell books. I wrote because I loved it and seemed to have a certain talent for it. But I also needed a roof over my head and food in my stomach. Therefore, I needed to sell books, and Katherine was here to help me do just that. And, I had to admit that she'd done a decent job. My bank account assured me of that.

"I suppose you're right." I relented.

"Let me mark this on my calendar. Dale Schultz agreed with something I said." She scribbled something on her desk calendar.

"So why exactly did I have to ride the supersonic elevator to see you today."

"I thought I told you that."

"You sent me an email that basically said, be there or be square."

"I'm surprised you'd let a clich like that escape your lips." She teased.

"Talking isn't writing. And some people like clich s."

"On another subject, four chapters of the new book are due today."

"They're only due because you arbitrarily decide they're due. Sometimes fictional writing isn't done on a schedule."

"I thought a brilliant author like yourself could just snap your fingers and magnificently amazing stories appeared on the computer screen."

"Having never done it, I would expect you to think that."

"What, that you're a brilliant author?"

"You have three of the chapters on the flash drive, and the fourth is nearly complete. What's the rush?"

We want to get it published before the Christmas buying season. People still like to purchase hard copies of books by famous authors."

I was a moderately famous author, even though I didn't often admit it to myself. It made selling books relatively simple, which I enjoyed. But it made the public appearances and book signings that Katherine arranged; the bane of my existence. I was not a public person, and traveling all over the country was not enjoyable, and something needed to be done about it. I wasn't sure what, just yet.

"I suppose you're right. Put another note on your calendar there, for the mental slip of mine."

"What?" She perked up.

"I said, bane of my existence, another horrible clich .

Katherine shrugged, but didn't make a note on her desk calendar.

"Also, I have a check for you since you won't simplify things by allowing direct deposits to your bank account."

"I'm old-fashioned, I guess. I hear about bad things happening from that."

"Well, here's your preliminary check for the new book."

I glanced at it long enough to see $100,000 on the amount line. That would hold me for a while. This would be my fifth book, and the first four had been nicely successful, so my bank account was well-stocked at the present time, far beyond anything I'd imagined when I began writing. I folded the check and stuck it in my pocket.

"And we need to review the schedule of personal appearances and book signings I've set up for you."

It was only March, and we were shooting for a September publish date. I couldn't sign books until they were published. Maybe I could get COVID 19, or something and avoid all of that. Katherine had twelve events lined up, some of which would get national attention and some that were small, local events. I had insisted on the latter. I grew up in rural Pennsylvania before we moved to New York, and we Pennsylvanians had always seemed to be bypassed by everything big or important that happened. I wanted people in those types of places to have access to signed copies of my books if they wanted them.

"Those don't begin until October, so please don't forget about them. I'll send emails to remind you."

"I think your emails go directly to my spam folder. I'll have to check." I said in a deadpan delivery.

"You're impossible. If I didn't make gobs of money from you, I'd dump you in a nanosecond."

"Same here, you know."

We bid each other goodbye, and I left her office. Walking down the hall toward the elevator, I wondered what it might be like to descend forty-four flights of stairs. I was getting hungry and decided I needed plenty of nourishment before I attempted that, so I stopped at the elevator, as always. We made several stops on the way down, which seemed to decrease our peak velocity, and my stomach survived. I wondered if I could find an agent whose office was on the ground floor. Probably not.

Zǐh o W ng's Chinese Restaurant.

It was an unusually warm March day, so I walked to Zǐh o W ng's Chinese Restaurant rather than using a taxi or an Uber. Since I ate there often, Mr. W ng wasn't surprised to see me.

"Some shrimp chow mein for famous author?" were his words of greeting. That was my favorite of the restaurant's offerings, although their menu covered three pages.

"That sounds good, Zǐh o, but keep the shrimp and change the other to fried rice."

"Hot tea and wonton soup?" He offered.

It was lunchtime, but I could make it my dinner.

"Of course," I answered, nodding to him and receiving his nod in return.

I checked my phone and had several text messages. I'd changed my number several times, but somehow, people discovered what it was and would send me unwanted texts. They weren't spam or scams, just people talking about my writing. I read several of them since I had nothing else to do, but I stashed the phone when the wonton soup arrived. Mr. W ng served me personally and sat down as he usually did.

"How is wonton soup today? Breaking in new cook and would like opinion."

"Zǐh o, your wonton is always excellent, and this is no different. Some wonton is more water than anything else, but yours is solid and nourishing."

"Will inform new cook. Will Mr. Dale be wanting take home today?"

"Your food and my microwave seem to get along well, so perhaps the shrimp chow mein would be good."

"Will have, when finish. You good customer, Mr. Dale."

"That's because you're a good cook. I didn't have much Chinese until I came to New York, but I'm glad my parents found your restaurant. And," I said, winking at him, "I've included it in my new book. Characters in the book will be eating here."

"Mr. Dale, many thanks. For kindness, today is on me."

I bowed my head to him. "The many thanks is for you, Zǐh o. But I insist on paying."

I knew from experience that when people saw the name of the restaurant in the book, they'd come here to eat, and Zǐh o would be very busy. It made me happy to be able to do that for him, as he always took very good care of me. I saw someone from the kitchen headed for my table.

Zǐh o took the sack and handed it to me. "Chow mein for dinner," he said with a smile.

"Tell me something, Zǐh o. Do you like New York, the big city?"

"I born in Foshan in China and live there till I come here. I think population there is nine million. So, I used to big city. Is important to me as I feel strange when not in big city. You from big city too, Mr. Dale?"

"No, no, I'm not. I come from a small town, and I feel out of place somehow."

"But you famous author. Is important to be in big city for you, isn't it."

I chuckled. "It's easier sometimes, and I suppose important for some things, but it's also annoying most of the time."

"Have friends in China who say same thing about Foshan."

"It's what you get used to, I guess." I grumbled.

"New York big, but not Foshan."

"I think I know what you mean, Zǐh o.

I paid him for both meals and included a nice tip, which I knew he'd divide among his servers.

I left Zǐh o's and walked back to my apartment, which was on the fourth floor and not the forty-forth. I let my mind wander, trying to concentrate on creating a new chapter for the book. But it was difficult with loud diesel buses, emergency sirens, and just the noise and bustle of a big city.

I rode the slow-motion elevator to the fourth floor. Although I could certainly have afforded a nicer place, I was content with the one-bedroom cubby which I inhabited. As I was approaching my door, I heard someone calling to me.

"Hey, Dale. How's it going, neighbor?"

"Hey, Zach. Not too bad for a March day, and after a trip to the forty-fourth floor."

"Uh-oh, that again. How's your stomach?" he asked with a little laugh.

"We made lots of stops, so it wasn't too bad. I stopped at Zǐh o's and had some fried rice and brought some chow mein home." I held up the bag with the familiar emblem on the side.

"We need to go there. It's been a while, and Talia loves Cashew Chicken."

 

 

"That's good stuff. I have it every once in a while."

"Got the book finished?"

"Nearly. A couple more chapters."

"I'm sure you'll be relieved, and the money will be rolling in."

"I suppose. I'm just anxious to get started on the next book."

"Dale, you need to slow down and enjoy the fruits of your labor, whatever they might be. I know that money isn't the big motivation for you, but still, savor all that adulation you receive."

I laughed. "All of that adulation is a pain in the ass, and I could do without it. Book signings and being on The Morning Mirror. And all of that other good stuff, i.e. crap."

I always sensed that it was good stuff, in its own way, but not particularly for me. It was awkward, and the questions they asked were always frivolous and not something that I particularly cared about. I enjoyed sometimes talking about the process of creating and then writing a story, but I'd been told that most listeners found that boring after about thirty seconds of it. They wanted sensational things, like who I was currently sleeping with or what woman I was chasing, things like that. Most of my time on the show seemed to be spent denying rumors as no one seemed to believe that I was a boring guy, content to eat, sleep, and write my books.

'I feel very awkward on that show and others that have had me. People think that if you're famous, you should fit into a particular mold, and I don't."

"I can see that about you for sure."

"But, what the heck are you doing home, Zach? Shouldn't you be working?"

"Yeah, but Talia was sick this morning, and she needed help getting to the doctor, so I took a day of vacation."

"Aw, I'm sorry about that. How's she doing?"

"Much better. The doc said it was probably something she ate, so It's not contagious, thank goodness."

"May I stick my head in to wish her well."

"Let me make sure she's decent." He disappeared for a moment. "Come on in, Dale."

"Hey, Talia, how are you feeling?"

"Better, but that doesn't mean good."

"Aw, sorry."

"I should be okay tomorrow."

I thought she looked pale enough that tomorrow might not do it."

"So, are you still thinking about what we talked about the other day?" Zack gestured for me to have a seat.

I plopped into a lounger. It had been in and out of my mind all day, from my time with Katherine through my lunch with Zǐh o, to now.

"I have, but it's a tough decision."

"Talia and I would hate to lose a good neighbor, but don't let that influence you." Zack looked at the ceiling as he spoke, unsuccessfully stifling a smile.

"I'd hate that too, but that's only one issue. I could go back to Pennsylvania, but for some reason, I'm hesitant to do that."

"Lots of big hills in P A, but I'm from Ohio, and the climate is similar, but more variation in the topography."

"I like hills, but big hills and snow don't always mix well."

"Take a look at Ohio. And take a look at Caraway Hills in the south-central area. Kind of an older area with rolling hills and lots of nice cabins and cottages."

"Listen, thanks for the information. I've got some work to do, so I'll leave you two alone. Talia, get well, please."

"Thanks, Dale. I hope so," Talia said, rather weakly, I thought.

In my room, I sat at my writing desk, opened my laptop, and searched for Caraway Hills, Ohio. I found two real estate companies that had listings there and saw some very nice cottages, cabins, and luxury homes. I chuckled at the luxury homes. What I had in mind was something like my New York apartment, something simple but adequate.

I didn't want a fixer-upper since I wasn't very handy. I could paint and probably drive a nail, but hanging things on the wall might be a challenge. I was certain there would be videos on the internet to help if I needed them.

As I paged through the cabins, carefully checking details, I knew that I had made my decision without realizing it. I was going to move to Ohio, much to Katherine's chagrin, I was sure. I needed to finish the last two chapters and get the process started.

"You made quick work of those last two chapters," Katherine said, peering at me over the top of her glasses. "I hope they measure up to the rest of the book."

"I'm sure you can touch them up if they don't."

"I'm your agent, not your editor."

"I must have forgotten. Sorry."

"Yeah, right. Do you have an outline for your next book yet?"

"This one isn't even published yet."

"And speaking of that, I'll email your appearance schedule so you can finalize your plans. "

"Speaking of plans, I've already finalized one."

That got her attention. "Oh?"

"Yes. I'm moving to Ohio." I said it as matter-of-factly as I could.

"Like that's going to happen," she replied with a laugh.

I didn't respond.

Katherine looked up from her computer. "You are teasing me, aren't you?"

"Nope, I made the decision two days ago. We'll soon be Zooming."

"Dale, why would you do a silly thing like that? It makes no sense."

"To you, perhaps."

"To anyone with common sense."

"That leaves me out then, I guess."

"Dale, I'm sensing that you're serious about this. Is there no way to talk you out of it?"

"Don't even try. I'll be off to Ohio next week to find a place to live. And it won't be on the forty-fourth floor, or even the fourth floor."

I ended my time with Katherine and made what I hoped would be my final descent on that miserable elevator. I'd never gotten a chance to try the stairs.

 The Ohio Valley.

The drive to Ohio was smooth and uneventful but was over five hundred miles and took nine-plus hours. I'd booked a motel room near Caraway Hills, actually on the edge of Caraway, a small town near the Hills. I checked in and then went out and grabbed some dinner at a quaint mom-and-pop diner. The food was delicious, and I think I had a smile on my face the entire time I was there. Back at the motel, I made some notes regarding a possible new story and then went to sleep.

The following morning, I was ready to go and anxious as well. I'd called ahead to the realty company and talked with Brooke Row, the owner, who said she'd be ready to show me several possibilities. I stopped at the diner for breakfast, and was taken in again by the good home cooking.

I made it to the Realty company at nine and was greeted by Brooke. I'd never spent much time around women as they tended to distract me from my writing. When I came through the door, a quick glance told me that she was attractive. When she looked at me, I nearly froze. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with her very pale blue eyes. She was the living personification of one of the favorite characters I had created. Not a very pleasant character, unfortunately, but one I enjoyed writing about. I decided not to mention it, as I wasn't anxious for people to know I was a writer.

"Mr. Schultz, it's so good to meet you after our messaging. And please call me Brooke."

"I'm just Dale, and I'm anxious to see what you've picked out for me."

"Tell me again exactly what you're looking for."

"I'm really looking for something simple, maybe one bedroom, a decent living area, and some space between me and the neighbors."

"Actually, there aren't many one-bedroom places available. I'm not sure what your occupation is, but a second bedroom could be transformed into a very nice office."

"Good point. I probably could use an office." I didn't volunteer what it would be used for, and she didn't ask.

"Okay, why don't I go with a two-bedroom, then? It would cost a little more, but there are plenty of those available."

"Yeah, that's good. I'm not worried about a few more dollars."

"How about amenities? Would you like a pool?"

"No, I don't need a pool for sure."

"Hot tub?"

That one made me think. I'd been in a few hot tubs, and they were nice.

"It wouldn't be inside the house, would it?"

Brooke chuckled. "Oh no, it would be on the porch or beside the cabin."

My turn to chuckle. Yeah, I guess all that steam inside the cabin wouldn't be good."

She nodded but didn't reply.

"It sounds like you're looking for a fairly basic cabin. Is that a fair description of what you're after?"

"I think so. I mean, I don't want peeling paint, or floorboards that you can fall through."

"I get the picture, Mr., uh, Dale. What about land?"

"I'd like for it to be on land." I kept as straight a face as possible.

Her head snapped up from looking at her notebook. I had that innocent look on my face.

"I'll make a note of that. Mr. Schultz does not want a cabin-boat." I enjoyed that she was smiling.

Her easy manner told me we were going to get along fine searching for a cabin.

"I don't want any close neighbors, so if that takes a little more land, that's fine. I'm from New York City, and Central Park was the only view of land that I had."

"Ah, that helps. Are you good at math and visualization?"

"No, and probably no." I said, matter of factly.

Another chuckle, closer to a giggle this time. "Then it probably wouldn't do any good to tell you that an acre is about forty-four-thousand square feet."

I shook my head.

"Are you a football fan?"

"I watch it on TV sometimes."

"Well, a football field is about one-point-three acres. See if you can use that to judge how much land you'd like to have."

I tried to picture a cabin sitting on the fifty-yard line and between the hash marks on a football field.

"Maybe two football fields, then?"

"Let's say about two acres. We might be able to find something like that in Caraway Hills. I'll have to check. Probably nothing like that close to the lake. That would be very expensive lakefront property."

 

 

"I don't think I need to be close to the lake. Too crowded, I'd imagine."

"There's an older section of the Hills that's away from the lake and was a wing of the original development. The cabins are smaller and older. I'm not sure what you're looking at financially yet, but in that section, you could probably buy some of the land surrounding the cabin and secure your two acres."

"I'd be willing to do that. How much do cabins there run?"

"Without checking, I'm just guessing, so don't pin me down on it, but probably 130 to 200 thousand dollars" She looked a little sheepish. "Is that within your range and not too much?"

I'd paid considerably more than that for my apartment. "I'm selling an apartment in New York City to move here."

"Enough said," she answered. "How long will you be staying in Ohio?"

"As long as it takes. I'm going to own a cabin before I leave."

"I'd better get to work. Give me until two o'clock and then meet me here. I promise to have at least four choices by then."

"You sound efficient, Brooke." I admitted, or perhaps gave her an expectation to meet.

"I do my best," she answered, looking directly at me.

I hoped she wouldn't do that too often. After writing over one hundred thousand words, much of it about that character, it was almost haunting to look into those blue eyes.

Downtown Caraway.

I drove into town, purchased some casual clothing at a small shop I discovered, and then went to my favorite restaurant for lunch.

"Let's see," the older gentleman, who was obviously the proprietor, said. "You were here last night, my wife saw you drive up and said you were here this morning for breakfast, and now you're here for lunch. That doesn't happen too often," he said as he led me to a table.

"I'm here to buy a cabin in Caraway Hills, so you'll probably be seeing me more. The food has been excellent, so I don't see any reason to try somewhere else."

"My goodness, thank you. I'll share that with Alma."

"I think I met her this morning. She was pleasant and made eating here enjoyable."

"I'll tell her that, too."

"Please do."

"You need time to check the menu?"

"I don't think so. I'd just like a cheeseburger with tomato and pickle, some chips, and a glass of V8."

"How about tomato juice? I don't stock V8. Sorry."

"Tomato juice is fine."

"Be right back."

I'd wondered how I'd like and adapt to small-town or country living, and this was definitely that. It was different from New York. People seemed friendly and eager to meet and talk with you. I liked it. Maybe I'd been in the wrong place all these years.

My tomato juice and chips arrived.

"I didn't introduce myself. I'm Billy Joe Vaughn." A large hand was extended toward me.

I shook it. "I'm Dale Schultz," I said, wondering what reply I'd receive.

"Nice to meet you." He glanced over my head. "Brooke, honey, you here for lunch?"

"Sure am," she replied as I turned my head. "Dale. I see you've found a good place to eat."

"I have, and there's plenty of room at this table unless you have other plans."

She looked at Billy Joe, then back to me. "Thank you, sure. The usual," she added to him and sat down. "I usually run home for lunch, but there's this new guy in town who's looking for a cabin, and I have to find one or two more possibilities before two o'clock."

"Wow, he must be one mean man."

"I didn't say man.

"You said guy, so I assumed you meant they were male.

She laughed. "I have three, but I want to find two more since one of the three is a little questionable."

"Don't worry about it. I have plenty of time, but maybe you don't."

"Most of my work is in the evening, and this is extra, so I'm anxious to take care of it."

"I'm going to buy something before I leave."

"Here ya go, guys," Billy Joe said as he began serving our food. "A grilled cheese for Brooke, along with a dill pickle and tomato juice. And a cheeseburger for the gentleman."

Two "thankyous" and Billy Joe left us to check another table.

"Tomato juice?" Brooke said with a laugh.

"Yeah. I prefer V8, but this is good." I held up my glass, and she hers, and we clinked them in a toast.

"How long have you lived in Caraway, Brooke?"

"Most of my life, except when I was away at college. I just wanted to go straight into real estate, but Dad pretty much insisted I get some college. He said it would help me to relate to all types of people."

"And?"

"I'm sure he was right. There's no way to tell, of course, but, and maybe I shouldn't tell you, but I've done very well with my real estate."

"Why shouldn't you tell me that?"

Brooke shrugged. "I think some people resent that you make good money and they're going to pay a large fee that will give you even more. You just show a house and make big bucks while they work hard for peanuts."

"Sounds like jealousy and a touch of resentment from some people." I turned the tables on her unnamed critics.

"I suppose. How about you?" she asked with a smile.

I closed one eye as I smiled at her. "I appreciate a job well done."

"My goal, as always, is to give you just that,"

"Good. How was the grilled cheese?"

"Heavenly," she said, rolling her eyes. "That's why I order it."

"I'll have to try it."

"I have the cheeseburger every once in a while."

"I'll probably be ordering it again."

"Listen, I'm off to find two more places. See you at two."

I left the car at the diner and wandered around the downtown area of Caraway. It certainly wasn't New York, as everyone I passed said, "Good morning," or "Hello," "or "How's it going?" The further I walked and browsed, the more I found myself trying to issue the greeting before they could. It was a totally new experience. Even in my apartment building, people who lived on the same floor would pass me in the hallway without speaking or looking at me.

When I'd go into one of the shops, I was immediately greeted, asked if I needed help, and later asked if I was new in town as they hadn't seen me before. I found a keychain that had a house attached, so I bought it for Brooke. I grabbed a Snickers at another shop and returned to the diner parking lot and my car. I was at Brooke's office at five minutes before two.

She smiled broadly. "I have 6, she said proudly. If you're ready, let's head to my car and see if any of them fit what you're looking for." She led me to her black Cadillac.

"A Cadillac rather than a Mercedes or BMW?" I verbally observed.

"Yeah. If you look around this area, you won't see many Hondas, Toyotas, or Nissans. People stick to American brands, and so do I."

"That s interesting. I hadn't really thought about it."

Brooke chuckled. "There may be lots of things you'll have to relearn once you get here."

"You listen carefully and correct me when I say the wrong thing."

"Another laugh. "I'm trying to find a cabin for you, not make you politically correct."

"I think I'll need all the help I can get."

"The first place I'm taking you meets your requirement of two bedrooms and one bath. It's on three acres but far from the lake, so the land isn't quite as expensive. Two of the others have hot tubs, but not this one."

The first cabin didn't strike me, and neither did the second. The third was slick and modern, and somehow, I didn't like the effect. If I was going to retreat to a cabin in the woods, I didn't want it to resemble my New York apartment.

"That place was beautiful but too much like what I've been used to."

"Two more to go. May I ask a personal question?"

"As long as it's not too personal," I replied, causing a pair of pink cheeks, which surprised me.

Brooke hesitated for just a moment. "I try to get to know my clients, and sometimes it's a great help. What do you do for a living?"

An innocent question, but I wasn't willing to reveal my total identity since the purpose of my move was to get away from publicly and other distractions. Brooke and others would eventually find out, of course, but I'd like to delay it as much as possible.

"I'm self-employed, and I work mostly from home."

"The cell phone service here is excellent, and the Internet is equally good."

"That's great," I answered, although I thought being isolated might be nice, at least for a while.

"Here we are at number four," Brooke said as we stopped just off the road. I could barely see the cabin through the trees. "Two point five acres, two bedrooms, and a recently renovated bathroom, plus a hot tub on the screened-in porch. Let's go in."

The front porch was nearly perfect, and the hot tub looked new.

"It comes with all the furniture," she informed me as we went inside."

"It's nice but not fancy."

I checked the bedrooms, the bathroom, and the kitchen. It all seemed to be just what I was looking for. Plus, one wall of the living room was hidden by bookshelves, and there was a piano in the corner. If I had time, I might try to learn to play.

"Someone liked to read." I mused.

"Looks like it. Do you like to read?" she asked.

"I guess you could say so. I enjoy reading. How about you?"

"I read very little, but I'm planning to read more."

Her smile puzzled me a touch, but I was probably imagining things. I sat on the couch.

"I don't think I need to see any more cabins, Brooke. This one seems just right."

She sat down across from me. "Wow, that was quick. I do think it fits what you described to me that you wanted."

"You never mentioned a price for this one." I implied a question.

 

 

A tiny smile. "It's a little more at $195,000."

"That's no problem. I like it."

"We can go back to the office to sign everything, but what kind of financing will you be using?"

"Just cash."

A huge smile slowly formed on Brooke's face. "I'm going to be honest with you," she said, and I knew what she was going to say.

"And that's why you're going to be reading more, right?" I volunteered.

She laughed and slapped her knee. "The Internet reveals all secrets, doesn't it."

"It's not a total secret, but let me ask you a favor. Don't tell anyone. Let them find out in time."

"I promise. But I'd love to get autographed copies of your books. I'll buy them if you'll sign them."

"You'll do no such thing. I have plenty of books." I insisted.

"After I found who you were, I checked the books, and one of them had a short excerpt. I don't read a lot, but I thought it was beautiful."

"Thank you, Brooke."

"How do you write like that?"

"As a friend said when I asked her a similar question, Does one ask the wind how it blows?

She laughed. "I certainly get it. If you could describe it and teach it, then everyone could do it."

"You're close to being right on that for sure. I'm blessed with a talent, and the delight of my life is using that talent."

"I'll be reading all of your books, and I'll be thinking about you here at the cabin, creating more of them."

"That's the plan." I quipped.

"Do you have your next book started yet?"

"If started means having an outline, yes, I do."

"I guess outlining is good, even for an extraordinary talent like yours."

"That's a big word that I'm not sure fits me."

"After I read, I'll let you know what I think."

"Please do," I said, wondering why I had said it. I didn't usually ask people for their opinions, even though many offered them freely. That was surely something to think about.

Brooke stood and crossed the room to the piano. "Do you play, Dale?"

"Not a bit. It might be fun to learn, though, since I have a free piano."

She lifted the lid that covered the keys and played a few notes. "Someone has taken good care of this one. It's right in tune."

"Do you play?" I inquired. The way she'd struck the keys, then given her opinion, suggested that she might.

She shrugged. "I try," she said without looking at me.

"Please play something for me then."

She pulled out the small stool and sat down. Almost instantly, the small cabin was filled to overflowing with sounds, beautiful sounds coming from the old piano. I'd listened to music before, but never up close and personal like this. I could feel the music in my body, and I'm sure my mouth was open wide. It continued for minutes, then ended, the silence suddenly seeming unusual.

"Brooke, you're a real estate lady. It was gorgeous, but where did it come from?"

"Does one ask the wind how it blows?" she replied, holding he poker-face for a second, then grinning and winking.

I was shaking my head as she turned to face me. "Does it have a name?"

"Prelude in C-sharp Minor by Rachmaninoff."

"I imagine you could play various things for the next hour, too."

"Dale, you're embarrassing me," she said with a chuckle, then looked at me seriously. "If you'd like to learn a little about playing the piano, I could teach you," she volunteered. "But only if you'll talk to me about writing."

That was an interesting proposal. I'd love to be able to entertain myself with the piano, and, based on her playing and the little I'd been with her, I was sure Brooke could do that. I'd never really talked with anyone about my writing and how it was done, even at the many book signings I'd done. Out here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city and frantic pace of appearances and signings, it might be interesting to try.

"You'd really like to do that?" I asked, just wanting to be sure.

"Yes, I would. I've never given piano lessons, so it would be interesting to try. Sing Jingle Bells with me."

That was a shock, but we sang Jingle Bells. Brooke had a beautiful singing voice as well.

"You're not tone-deaf," she said, "so you should be able to learn."

I laughed. "I came here to purchase a cabin through Ms. Brooke Rowe, and I've just signed up for piano lessons."

"If you don't want to," she said, her cheeks turning pink once more.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world, as long as you have a flexible schedule. Sometimes, when the words are flowing, I don't like to have any interruptions."

"Oh my gosh, I can only imagine. We'll work it out." She pushed the stool back where it had been and closed the cover over the keys. "To celebrate the sale, let me buy you dinner."

I started to suggest that she didn't need to buy, but thought better of it. She'd told me earlier about selling a million-dollar house along the lake shore, so I thought she probably had the money to handle dinner.

"Well, you two again," Billy Joe said with the usual big smile. He hid his mouth with his hand, leaned over, and whispered to Brooke. "How'd you do?"

"Sold him a cabin," she whispered back.

"So, you're going to be a neighbor?" He looked at Dale.

"Moving in as soon as I can." I confirmed.

"Just for the summer?"

"Nope. I'll be eating here year-round."

Billy Joe smiled at Brooke. "You bring in lots of customers. I need to give you a free meal every once in a while."

"If I keep selling things, I won't need free meals, Billy Joe. What's good tonight.?"

"Alma cooked up one of her special pot roasts with potatoes, carrots, and green beans. She also made some cornbread and baked a couple of apple pies."

Brooke looked at me and cocked her head to one side with a questioning look.

"Are you recommending it?" I asked.

"I'm getting it no matter what you order," she replied.

"The lady is buying and recommending, so make it two."

"Do you two want coffee?"

We both nodded and in two minutes, we each had a steaming cup of coffee between us.

I got a look from Brooke. "Do you cook? That's a nice kitchen in the cabin."

"In New York, I ate out and ordered in. Not much cooking, but I'm going to learn. There are lots of recipes on the internet, I'm sure."

She raised her eyebrows.

"From that look, I'm guessing that there's an offer to teach me to cook coming my way."

That got a big laugh. Day to day stuff, you can figure out. For special occasions, I might be able to give you some pointers. My mother was an excellent cook, and I learned a few things. Do you celebrate special days with your parents? Mother's Day, Father's Day, birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas?"

I didn't want to sound too cynical or negative, so I softened my answer from how I would normally reply to that question.

"No, we don't celebrate much. Mother has hated birthdays since she passed thirty, so they aren't celebrated, mine included. They're my mother and father, but I think my birth may have been an accident that infringed on the type of life they had planned for themselves. They always go to Europe for Christmas, so." I let my voice trail off, fearing I'd already said too much.

Brooke just stared at me for long seconds.

"You don't have to respond. I know it's weird, and I've lived with it for twenty-seven years. Lots of people have felt sorry for me, but I'm doing well."

"Dale, I'm not sure it's mine to meddle in your life, but we've gotten along so well today, and with things we've talked about for the future, but feeling sorry for someone is kind of a do-nothing feeling. You're a writer, and I'm sure you've written about compassion in your books somewhere, and I think that's a much better word.

Our food arrived, thank goodness.

"Well, what do you think? Brooke asked after I'd taken a few bites.

"I've never tasted anything like this before. It's delicious."

"Welcome to Caraway. I thought you'd like it." Brooke smiled.

"Is there stuff like this at the diner every night?"

"Not quite, but it's always good. The pot roast is special, and I think Alma likes to make it."

"Well, this is the eating out part, but how do I get the delivery part?"

Brooke laughed again. She had the most sincere laugh I'd ever heard, if that was something that was possible. Anyway, I liked it.

"I don't think that will happen, but you'll be fixing your own things before long, I'm sure."

I'd had apple pie in New York, but it wasn't like Alma's. "I'm going to get another piece of this to take with me and eat before I go to bed."

We finished, finally, and headed to Brooke's car. On the way back to her office, she asked,

"What kind of car is that little thing you're driving?"

"It's a Porsche, probably not too popular around here from what you've said."

"At the big houses along the lake, there are foreign cars. But that's about the only place you'll see them."

"You need to drive it one of these days."

"Dale, I'd be scared to death."

"Listen, this is perfect territory for a Porsche. Curvy roads and hills are perfect. It would eat them alive."

She didn't look at me as she said, "You'd really trust me to drive that fancy car around here?"

I was beginning to feel that Brooke was capable of anything. "In a New York minute."

She laughed again. "I've heard that phrase on TV, but not in Caraway."

"If you're around me, you'll probably hear other things like that, too."

She pulled into the small parking lot at her office building, which was just a little larger than a one-car garage.

"What time should I come in to sign everything tomorrow and also get you paid?"

"I'll be ready at nine."

"See you then."

To be continued. Based on a post by PickFiction, for Literotica.