The House by Danielle Steel

Author:Danielle Steel
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Mansions, Women lawyers, Contemporary, Architects, General, Romance, San Francisco (Calif.), Legal, Individual Architect, Fiction, Domestic fiction, Man-woman realtionships, Architecture
ISBN: 9780440242031
Publisher: Random House, Inc.
Published: 2007-01-30T06:21:24.247000+00:00

Chapter 12

Phil took Sarah to brunch the next day at Rose's Café on Steiner. They sat outside under the heaters in the winter sunshine. He read the paper and she said nothing. They ate in silence. They hadn't made love the night before. They had watched a movie on TV and gone to bed early. It had been an exhausting day, and she felt drained.

She didn't invite him to see the house again. She didn't want to hear what he had to say about it. It was too painful, and spoiled her fun. She didn't object this time when he said he had work to do after brunch. It depressed her even more to realize that she was relieved when he left. Their relationship was on its last legs, and she knew it, even if he didn't, or wouldn't admit it. There was very little good stuff left, just a lot of resentment and bad feelings, on both sides. That much was clear from the force of his tirade about the house the day before. It wasn't about the house, she realized, it was about them. He was tired of her pulling on him, begging for more, and she was tired of asking. It was a stalemate. And for some reason, her buying the house on Scott Street threatened him. Just as his distance and absences threatened her.

She called Jeff at noon, as she had promised she would. He was in his office, waiting for her call.

“I'll meet you at the house in half an hour,” she said quietly, and he could hear in her voice that the weekend hadn't gone well. She didn't sound like a woman who'd been comforted and loved. She sounded lonely and sad and out of sorts.

She was touched when he arrived at the house with a picnic basket. He had brought pâté, cheese, sourdough bread, fresh fruit, and a bottle of red wine.

“I thought we could have a picnic.” He smiled at her. He didn't ask how the weekend had been. He could see it. They went outside with the basket and sat on a stone wall in the garden. The flowers were long gone, there was nothing out there but weeds. But she looked better after lunch. And then he showed her his new ideas for the kitchen. His whole vision came to life as he described it.

“I love it,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement. She looked like a different person than the one who had arrived an hour before. She had felt dead all weekend. Now, looking at the house with Jeff, she felt alive again. She wasn't sure if it was him or the house, or the combination. But in any case, it was a lot better than the abuse she had taken from Phil the day before. It was becoming abusive. A power war no one would win.

They walked through the upper floors again, and he brushed against her, as they tried to figure out what to do with the closets in the dressing room.

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