Everything in Between (25 page)

Chip took Zae’s left hand and drew her onto his lap.

“I suppose I’d have done the same thing,” Zae said. “They grew up in this house, but it’s probably no more than a physical reminder of their mother’s grief.”

“Perhaps.” Chip laced his fingers together over Zae’s hip. “I don’t think of it that way. Ruby spent some good years here with the man she loved. She made babies with him and raised them here. I think the happiness she knew in this house outweighed the grief. This house is just waiting to live again. To give someone else the chance to fill it with love.”

“I hate to admit it—I
really
hate admitting it—but I love this attic.” Zae sighed. She even liked the faint scents of stale cedar and mothballs permeating the air. “I didn’t realize how high above the rest of the town you are. I can see Shady Creek and miles beyond it, into Glendale. Maybe even Kirkwood.” She crossed her legs, nestling even closer to Chip. “I feel more a part of Webster Groves than I ever have before. Well, if not a part, then certainly its queen perched here at the highest point at the top of the biggest hill.”

“I was hoping you’d feel that way. I was hoping you’d want to share this with me.”

Zae leaned back to better study his face. “You want me to move in with you?”

“I want all of you to move in. The Jack and Jill suite would be perfect for Dawn and Eve. They’d have their own rooms when they were home from school. CJ could have the third bedroom, or he could have a bedroom up here. There’s plenty of room for a desk and all of his gaming equipment, and this would be a great space for him to practice his music.”

“I call dibs on the master suite. I love that closet! But if we Richardsons move in, where will you sleep?”

Chip bit back a grin. “I was hoping to sleep with you, but I guess I could bunk with CJ.”

Zae hugged him, cradling his head to her bosom. “You’ve given this a great deal of thought. I’m impressed.”

“No, you aren’t.” He chuckled. He took her hands and kissed the backs of her fingers. “But you will be.”

* * *

“I’m not enjoying my literature class as much as I thought I would,” Chip said. “The reading material is great, but my teacher sucks all the life out of discussing it. He’s the only person I’ve ever known who can make a discussion about
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
boring. He seems to spiral around the point of a story before finally missing it altogether.”

“How are you doing in the class?” Zae asked.

“I’m carrying a high B right now, but that’s only because I write what he wants to see rather than what I really think.”

“Every great story is a love story.” Zae wandered into an aisle mounted floor to eye-level with heavy coils of chains, cable and rope of various colors and weights. She grabbed the fraying end of a mid-weight red nylon rope. “That one emotion is the source of every conflict known to humanity.”

“
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
is the furthest thing from a love story.” Chip chuckled. “Professor, I think you’re oversimplifying.”

“
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
is the story of a man’s love of freedom, but not in a good way.” Zae moved on to a giant spool of stainless steel chain. The one-inch links gleamed in the fluorescent light. “Dr. Jekyll wanted to separate his good side from his evil side so he could gallivant through London free of a conscience from time to time. Can you imagine how much fun you could have without a conscience? You could do whatever you wanted without the burden of guilt. It backfired on him, though, didn’t it?”

“That’s what you get from Cracker Jacks,” Chip said, borrowing one of Zae’s pet phrases. “You like that chain?”

“Yes, I think I’ll take two and half feet of it.”

“What for?”

“None of your business. What are you reading next?”

“
Gone With the Wind
.” Chip grimaced. He hoisted the spool of chain from its mount and set it in his shopping cart. “The book is huge. Now I know why the movie is nearly four hours long.”

Zae steered the cart out of the aisle and headed for the paint section, the reason they’d come to Lowe’s. “
Gone With the Wind
is the story of Scarlett O’Hara’s love for Scarlett O’Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler. Scarlett is one of the most unlikeable heroines in all of American literature, yet the reader roots for her because to survive, she’s willing to stomp all over the restraints she’s expected to live under.”

“We’re also reading
Christine
this year,” Chip said.

“Stephen King’s
Christine
?”

“Yep.”

“The story of a car’s love for a man.” Zae snickered. “I’d have named the car Roberta. Every Roberta I ever knew was the jealous type.”

“One of my Facebook friends is named Roberta. I only know her through playing Mafia Wars, but she’s definitely got a jealous streak,” Chip said. “Anytime a woman leaves a post on my profile, she comments on it as if she’s my wife or something.”

“Facebook seems like a stalker’s paradise,” Zae said. “I don’t do Facebook. It’s the technological, modern equivalent to the ‘I’d Rather Be Sailing’ bumper stickers from the 1980s. I didn’t care what you’d rather be doing back then, and as for Facebook, I’d rather not be reading insipid reports of what boring people are doing now. Same goes for Twitter.”

“My first experience with Facebook came through Sheng Li,” Chip said. “Gian created a page for us to keep our students up to date with new classes, the schedule, to introduce all the instructors. It’s been a good tool for us. I created my own personal account after I got hooked on Mafia Wars. Those Zynga games are addictive.”

“I went through a Vampire Wars addiction myself,” Zae said absently as she studied paint swatches from a palette of earth tones.

“I thought you don’t use Facebook.” Chip grinned.

“Shut up.” She showed him a warm, soft ocher. “Could you see this in the master bedroom or the living room?”

He nodded. “I like it. It’s not too girlie and not too masculine. It’s warm.”

“Warmth is exactly what your house needs.” Zae held onto the palette family Chip liked for the lower floor of his house and began sorting through colors for the master bedroom. “What do you think of this?” she asked, holding up a sample called Santorini blue.

“I like it.” Chip held it up to the light. “It’s not too bright, not too dark.”

“It matches your eyes,” Zae said. “It’s the color of a lake, just before sunrise.”

Chip smiled at the image Zae’s description painted.

“This one would be nice for the accent wall adjacent to the windows,” she added. “It’s called Solaria Buff.”

“It’s beige,” Chip deadpanned.

“It’s a subtle, bright beige.”

“What about the ceiling and trim?”

“White. Plain, old, nice clean white.”

“Any thoughts on the bathroom?” Chip asked. “You’re good at this.”

“I’d go with a warm shade of green. Supposedly, green energizes you without making you hyper. I’d go with white trim and a white ceiling for continuity with the bedroom.”

“Sounds good.” Chip flipped through the green swatches. “How ‘bout this one? Kilkenny green.” He showed it to her.

“It’s magically delicious,” Zae approved in a terrible Irish accent.

“I want the kitchen to be white, but I don’t know what color to paint the dining room,” Chip said. “I want it to match the kitchen and living room.”

“You’ve got that great wall adjacent to the archway joining the dining room and the kitchen,” Zae said. “Put a pop of color there, and use the same color from the living room on the other walls. Paint the trim in the dining room the same color as the walls in the kitchen. Problem solved.”

Zae went to the wall of color and picked one swatch from the thousands before her. “This one is perfect for that burst of color your dining room needs.” She handed the card to Chip.

“Cayenne,” he read.

“Red and orange supposedly stimulate the appetite,” Zae explained. “This is a good combination of those two colors. It doesn’t look like it came out of a crayon box. It’s eye-pleasing.”

“It’s good enough for me.” Chip smiled and slipped an arm around Zae’s waist. “I’d have been here all day without you. Or else I’d have just decided to paint everything white. The house is going to be awesome when we’re finished with it.”

“How much did you pay for it?” Zae asked.

“What happened with Elton and his cronies?” Swatches in hand, Chip started for the paint technician. “You had your meeting with them and the dean the other day, right?”

“Dr. Bligh took all of the boys, except Elton Dye, into his class. Elton gave him some lip about not wanting to make up the work Bligh’s class has already done, and Dr. Bligh turned him down. Elton has to repeat American Literature. From what I hear, he’s not too happy about it.”

“Did they apologize?” Chip gave his selections to the paint technician, who carefully calculated the amount of paint Chip would need for each room, based on the room dimensions he provided.

“Elton phoned his in,” Zae said. “Two of the others wrote letters of apology. Jeff Cordaway wrote a two-page apology, and then went right out and cleaned my car. It couldn’t have been easy, either. That car sat in the lot for two days with vomit cooking in the sun. He scoured it, inside and out. I think he was just with the wrong group of kids at the wrong time.”

“So you forgive him?”

“Absolutely. It’s a shame his scholarship is in jeopardy, since he had to miss a football game. I interceded on his behalf with the dean and the financial aid department. If they don’t pony up and let him keep the dough, I’ll pay the difference in his tuition. He’s a good kid and he needs to finish college. I don’t want one incident of stupidity to ruin the rest of his life.”

Chip impulsively took her in his arms and lavished her with a kiss. Fellow shoppers slowed their carts as they passed. The paint technician stared openly, smiling.

“What was that for?” Zae asked once Chip pulled away.

“You’re an incredible person.”

“Duh,” Zae grunted. “You’re only just figuring that out?”

“No, I’ve actually known it for some time now.”

Chip collected his gallons of paint and set them in the basket of his shopping cart. Zae looped her arm through his as they started for the checkouts. “You’re pretty nifty yourself, Chip.”

“ ‘Nifty?’ That sounds like one of CJ’s words.” He chuckled. “But thank you.”

“It’s actually Braeden’s word. He told me you were ‘a nifty guy’ the other day. He’s really enjoying your class. Looks like he’s slimming down, too.”

“He works like a Spartan in class,” Chip said, parking his cart in the express lane. “In mine and all his classes at MU, too. I’d be failing chemistry if it weren’t for him. He tutors me twice a week.”

“See what you can do about his hair,” Zae snorted. “It’s so bushy, I can’t even see his eyes anymore. He looks like a sheepdog.”

Chip shook his own mass of curls. “I can’t really get on his case about a haircut. I’m long overdue myself.”

“I love your curls.” Zae smiled. “They suit you. You remind me of Ariel from
The Tempest
.”

“Prospero’s little spy,” Chip said with a sidelong glance at Zae.

“You’ve read
The Tempest
?”

“I dig the Bard of Avon.”

Zae took Chip’s face in her hands, interrupting his effort to place his paint on the cashier’s conveyor belt. She kissed him, bending him over the checkout stand.

“What was that for?” Chip asked once she turned him loose.

“I was overcome. It turns me on when you talk literature, and I have a special weakness for Shakespeare.”

“ ‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears,’ ” Chip started. “ ‘I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.’ ”

Chewing her gum, the cashier warily stared at him. “What?” she asked, then gave him his total.

Taking a deep breath, Zae’s knees weakened. She clutched a handful of the back of Chip’s leather racing jacket.

Chip opened his wallet, plucked a credit card from it and handed it to the cashier.

“ ‘The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred with their bones.’ ”

“Do you know Marc Antony’s entire speech?” Zae asked, impressed.

“Had to memorize it ninth grade. Now I’m glad I did.” He leaned close to Zae, to whisper in her ear. “You should hear me give it naked.”

“Can I interest you in joining our frequent buyers club?” the cashier asked blandly. “If you’re doing a lot of repairs or remodeling, our card can save you up to twenty percent on—”

“Thank you, but not at this time,” Zae broke in. “We’ve got to get back home and get naked for Marc Antony’s speech.” She grabbed two bags, each containing two gallons of paint, and hurried to the exit.

“ ‘Oh shame, where is thy blush?’ ” Chip muttered. He loaded the rest of his paint into the cart and zoomed after Zae, just as eager to give the rest of Marc Antony’s speech as she was to receive it.