Danielle Steel - The House

“Nice outfit for New Year's Eve, huh?” He laughed too, and she was happy they were there together. It might have been too quiet otherwise. She was far less lonely working here than she had ever been in her apartment.

“Eleven fifty-nine.” He kept his eyes on his watch this time and took a step toward her. She didn't move away or step back. “Happy New Year, Sarah,” he said softly. She nodded, as though giving him permission. Just this once. For New Year's Eve.

“Happy New Year, Jeff,” she said softly as he put his arms around her and kissed her. They hadn't done that for a while, and had meant not to. They stayed in each other's arms for a long time, and then slowly came apart, and stood there looking at each other. “Thanks for being here.”

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.” Slowly, they went back to the projects they'd been doing, without commenting on the kiss or whether it should have happened. They left together at three o'clock in the morning.

When she got home, there was a message from Phil on her machine. He had called at midnight, her time, to wish her a happy New Year. He hadn't called on her cell phone. She had had it on at the house, just in case. He called her back in the morning and woke her at eight o'clock.

“Where were you last night?” he asked with interest. He was calling from his cell phone, riding up on the chair lift, and the connection was poor. He kept breaking up.

“Working at the house. I came home at three, and found your message. Thanks for calling.” She stretched and yawned.

“You and that crazy house. I miss you,” he said, and then momentarily broke up, and then came back on the line.

“Me too.” She did. But she had kissed Jeff last night at midnight, and it had been nice.

“I'll see you when I get back,” he said, and then they lost the connection as he reached the top of the mountain. Sarah got up then, and was back at the house by ten.

Jeff joined her there at noon. He didn't tell her that he had had a fight on the phone with Marie-Louise that morning. She hadn't called him at midnight the night before, but she had wanted to know where he'd been. He told her the truth, and said it was innocent. She didn't believe in his innocence, regarding his devotion to Sarah and her house. He reminded Marie-Louise that he had nothing better to do than work on the house on New Year's Eve. She had told him to go fuck himself, and hung up. She was due back that night. He spent the rest of the day with Sarah, and left her at six. Neither of them made any reference to their midnight kiss of the night before, but it was on her mind. She had sternly reminded herself again that morning not to be pulled in by his unavailability. But he was so sexy and attractive. She loved his brain, his heart, his looks. And maybe the fact that he lived with someone else. Sarah was always hard on herself.

In spite of her concerns about him, they had a good time that day working on the house together, as always. The sections of paneling she had waxed look gorgeous. She was determined to do it throughout the house.

“I guess I won't have nails again for another year.” She laughed as she looked at her hands. “I'm going to have to think of an excuse for clients. They're going to think I moonlight digging ditches with my bare hands.” She could never get her hands clean now, but she didn't mind. It was worth it.

She stayed that night till nine, and then went home to collapse in front of the TV. The holidays had been perfect this year. Or almost. They would have been nicer with Phil, or maybe not. They had been nice with Jeff, working on the house. It had been lucky for both of them that Marie-Louise was out of town, too.

Sarah went back to work the next morning, and Phil got back into town the day after. He called her as soon as he got to his apartment, but didn't offer to stop by and see her. And she didn't ask. She knew better. He would just tell her that he was too busy, had a mountain of work waiting on his desk, and had to go to the gym. She was tired of being disappointed. It was simpler to wait until the weekend. He said he'd see her on Friday, and no matter how many times he did this to her, it was still an odd feeling to know that he was back in town, in his apartment only a few blocks away, and she couldn't see him. It gnawed at her for days.

She was trying to get to the house every night now to work on the paneling she was waxing, and on Thursday night, she did some work on the bookcase she was building. She made a mess of it a few times, and had to pull the nails out and start again. It was frustrating and she felt awkward, and finally she decided to give it up around eleven. She was driving home, when she realized she was within a block of Phil's apartment. She was seeing him the next day, but suddenly it seemed like a fun idea to drop by his place and give him a kiss on her way home, or slip into his bed, and wait for him to come home from the gym. She didn't do that sort of thing often, but once in a while she had. And she had his keys with her. He had finally given them to her the year before, a year after she had given him hers. He was always slower to reciprocate. And he knew she didn't abuse the privilege. Except for something like this, to surprise him, she would never have gone there when he wasn't there. She had a strong respect for his privacy, as he did hers. They rarely dropped in on each other and always called first. It just seemed nicer and more respectful. Their mutual respect was one of the reasons why the relationship had lasted for four years.

She parked down the street from his apartment, still wearing her workboots and overalls. The overalls were covered with the wax she used on the panels, and her hair was piled on top of her head to keep it out of her way when she worked.

As she walked toward the building, she could see that the lights were out in his apartment. And she suddenly loved the idea of slipping into his bed and waiting for him. She giggled to herself as she used his keys to get through the outer door, and then into his apartment on the second floor. The apartment was dark when she walked in. She didn't bother to turn on the lights, because she didn't want to tip him off that she was there, if he was just walking down the street himself, on his way home from the gym, and happened to look up at his windows.

She walked straight down the hall in the dark to his bedroom, opened the door, and walked in. In the dim light, she could see that the bed was unmade and quickly started to take off her overalls and T-shirt. As she took her shirt off, she suddenly heard a moaning sound and jumped about a foot. It sounded like someone was injured, and she turned in the direction of the sound in terror. Suddenly from under the comforter, two human forms sat up, and a male voice said “Shit!” He snapped on the light, and saw Sarah in her bra and underpants and workboots, and she saw him in all his hunky nakedness with an equally naked blonde woman beside him. Sarah stared at them in blind confusion just long enough to register that the girl looked about eighteen years old, and she was gorgeous.

“Oh my God,” she said, staring at him, holding her discarded T-shirt and overalls in her trembling hands. For a moment she thought she would faint.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked with a startled look and vicious tone of voice. Afterward she realized it could have been worse, although not much. He could have been plunging into the spectacular blonde when she walked in, instead of whatever they were doing concealed under the covers. Fortunately, it had been a cold night, and his apartment was always freezing, so they had stayed under the duvet.

“I came to surprise you,” Sarah said in a trembling voice, choking back tears of grief, rage, and humiliation.