Neighborhood Steele - Part Two
The realtor was late, though this didn’t surprise them. Everywhere they went, signs of leftover celebration told them that they’d be lucky to find anyone that morning besides themselves who didn’t have a severe hangover. Their own Independence Day had been fairly quiet; enjoying a Friday away from the office during a long drive in the Auburn, a delicious home cooked feast, a prime view of the fireworks from Steele’s balcony, and then…
Steele smiled to himself, remembering. Even if Laura had become a little skittish in some respects, their sex life, fortunately, hadn’t suffered. If anything, it had heated up. Evenings that began with edgy frustration often ended with explosively powerful reminders of why they were together, trying to make things work. Laura was the most intense lover Steele had ever been with - or would ever be with - and seemed to know exactly what he enjoyed. He was confident that she felt the same way. If only we could relax outside the bedroom.
Laura checked her watch, frowned, and then pulled some photos out of an envelope she had been carrying. There were three pictures, each of a different house. She gazed at them wistfully, comparing them to each other, and then looking at them separately. Their search for a house had yielded these possibilities.
“Each one of these is perfect for us,” Laura mused aloud, “but none of them really stands out. They’ve all got three bedrooms, two bathrooms, nice kitchens, and enough space for entertaining… if we really have to.”
Steele didn’t miss the woeful tone of voice she applied to the last remark. “Having room for company was your idea, you remember.”
“Well, one of us has to think of it. You’re Remington Steele. Now that you’re married, it’s going to be expected, and I’m the one they expect to do it.”
“Hey, Laura,” Steele said gently, “that’s not true. I don’t expect it.”
She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“We got off on the wrong foot this morning. This is supposed to be exciting, remember?”
Steele was relieved when she smiled. “Yeah. It just gets a little overwhelming. I am excited.” She kissed him.
He returned her smile and straightened his posture. He was confident that buying a house would, if not solve their problems, at least help. It would show her that he really wanted to share a life with her, and neither of them would need to feel like guests when they decided whose apartment to use.
He pointed to the photos. “I’m not sure I care for the yellow one, on second thought. It was different, but the white does look nicer.”
“I agree. You liked the dining room, though,” she reminded him.
“I liked the color. We can paint whichever one we end up with.” He examined the pictures and held up a white one with a pretty stone walkway and large windows. “I think this is my favorite.”
Laura hesitated before agreeing, “Mmm. I think so too.”
“What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the last of the houses. “We both really liked this neighborhood; quiet, but lots of young people. And the house is nice.”
Steele nodded pensively.
She went on quickly, “But if you like the other one, that’s fine.”
“No it isn’t!” he frowned. “We’re not choosing this house for me, it’s for both of us, remember?”
A car pulled up at that moment and the realtor they’d been waiting for jumped out. “Sorry,” he said through a yawn. “Late night yesterday. Or this morning, I should say.” He gestured to the house behind them (the yellow one). “Shall we?”
Steele smiled to himself, remembering. Even if Laura had become a little skittish in some respects, their sex life, fortunately, hadn’t suffered. If anything, it had heated up. Evenings that began with edgy frustration often ended with explosively powerful reminders of why they were together, trying to make things work. Laura was the most intense lover Steele had ever been with - or would ever be with - and seemed to know exactly what he enjoyed. He was confident that she felt the same way. If only we could relax outside the bedroom.
Laura checked her watch, frowned, and then pulled some photos out of an envelope she had been carrying. There were three pictures, each of a different house. She gazed at them wistfully, comparing them to each other, and then looking at them separately. Their search for a house had yielded these possibilities.
“Each one of these is perfect for us,” Laura mused aloud, “but none of them really stands out. They’ve all got three bedrooms, two bathrooms, nice kitchens, and enough space for entertaining… if we really have to.”
Steele didn’t miss the woeful tone of voice she applied to the last remark. “Having room for company was your idea, you remember.”
“Well, one of us has to think of it. You’re Remington Steele. Now that you’re married, it’s going to be expected, and I’m the one they expect to do it.”
“Hey, Laura,” Steele said gently, “that’s not true. I don’t expect it.”
She sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“We got off on the wrong foot this morning. This is supposed to be exciting, remember?”
Steele was relieved when she smiled. “Yeah. It just gets a little overwhelming. I am excited.” She kissed him.
He returned her smile and straightened his posture. He was confident that buying a house would, if not solve their problems, at least help. It would show her that he really wanted to share a life with her, and neither of them would need to feel like guests when they decided whose apartment to use.
He pointed to the photos. “I’m not sure I care for the yellow one, on second thought. It was different, but the white does look nicer.”
“I agree. You liked the dining room, though,” she reminded him.
“I liked the color. We can paint whichever one we end up with.” He examined the pictures and held up a white one with a pretty stone walkway and large windows. “I think this is my favorite.”
Laura hesitated before agreeing, “Mmm. I think so too.”
“What’s wrong?”
She pointed to the last of the houses. “We both really liked this neighborhood; quiet, but lots of young people. And the house is nice.”
Steele nodded pensively.
She went on quickly, “But if you like the other one, that’s fine.”
“No it isn’t!” he frowned. “We’re not choosing this house for me, it’s for both of us, remember?”
A car pulled up at that moment and the realtor they’d been waiting for jumped out. “Sorry,” he said through a yawn. “Late night yesterday. Or this morning, I should say.” He gestured to the house behind them (the yellow one). “Shall we?”