Flour in the Attic by Winnie Archer

Author:Winnie Archer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2019-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Miguel lived in Santa Sofia’s Bungalow Oasis, a historic district in its own right, but different than the area I lived in. Our town, like so many of its sister cities, experienced a boom in the early 1900s when oil was discovered. Suddenly, the town, which had been settled by Spanish missionaries late in the sixteenth century and had been a haven for pioneers searching for gold in the 1800s, exploded. The first thirty years of the twentieth century brought crazy growth, although the town had always done its best to control inland sprawl. Santa Sofia had maintained its charm, in large part due to the preservation of its early history.

Bungalows dotted all of the town’s older neighborhoods, but Bungalow Oasis held the highest concentration of traditional bungalow architecture, which meant single-story, low-rise houses with verandas and privacy. Bungalow Oasis was bordered by Malibu Street to the east and Riviera Street to the south, and was part of what locals called the Upper Laguna District. Early residents had banded together to form a homeowners association, aptly called Santa Sofia Bungalow Oasis Neighborhood Association.

Miguel’s stucco-sided house sat on a knoll with a single-car garage at the lowest point on the right, and a red terra-cotta tiled stairway on the left leading up to a wrought-iron gate. Green leafy shrubs and a railing lined either side of the steps, and atop the pillars at the gate were massive cement pots bursting with flowers. The Mediterranean-style house could have succumbed to a hard-edged look, but the curved vertical line of the wall framing the garage and creating the base of the veranda, as well as the open courtyard created by a retaining wall, softened the look. The courtyard held a single tree, more shrubbery, and a bed of flowers. The veranda above the garage was rimmed by flower boxes cascading with colorful blooms.

I sighed, a sense of peace settling over me. I loved old homes: the history, the charm, the unique elements that gave them character. These were the things I’d fallen in love with about the house I’d bought, and I already knew they were the things I’d adore about Miguel’s house.

I walked up the stairway, carrying the second crusty sourdough loaf I’d picked up from Yeast of Eden, noting the wall of cypress trees creating a natural barrier between Miguel’s house and the one next door. The lots were small, but they were private at the same time.

The arched wooden door opened before I could knock, and there stood Miguel in jeans and a casual cream-colored guayabera, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He took my hand as I crossed the threshold, pulling me to him. “Mmm, you smell good,” he said, breathing me in, then kissing me. The feel of his hand pressed against my lower back, holding me close to him, sent a thrill through me, and Mrs. Branford’s prediction that I’d need Agatha cared for all night surfaced in my brain. That woman, I thought with a smile.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.