He aimlessly wandered the property, roaming over every inch and adding more to his growing to do list. He dropped onto the ground and plucked at shoots of grass. The last weeks made his head spin. From time to time, the guitarist wanted to pinch himself to make sure it wasn't all a dream. He stared at the two-story house with a smile spreading across his face. He owned a home with Stevie. It wasn't just hers or his; it was theirs. Lindsey had always been told that the endeavor was a serious undertaking. The decision wasn't supposed to be a frivolous one, but like everything else in their lives the purchase of the over 4,000 square foot Beverly Hills home tucked behind tall privacy hedges and walls had been a combination of chance and fate – driving around after lunch, taking a wrong turn, and seeing the for sale sign. At Stevie's urging, he parked the car on the street and drifted into the house with her, falling in love with every room and envisioning the memories to be made within the walls.
Lindsey learned that moving into a house was like making an album. The process was arduous and grueling with a handful of bright spots. There were more expenses than he thought, but he knew the costs were worth it, especially when saving himself or Stevie from a headache. The expensive interior designer grated on his nerves, but the woman had been spot on with making the empty spaces functional, beautiful, and safe to his and Stevie's liking. In an odd way, he was grateful that Stevie was busy in the studio. She hadn't dropped by the house in more than a week, and he could surprise her with the news that they'd be out of a rented condominium and in the home before Christmas.
He hoisted himself off the ground and followed the path along the pool and stopped at the outdoor patio, looking around the area and wishing for summer. He pictured lazy days in the pool and dinners outside. He grinned and went inside, stopping at the refrigerator and grabbing the last two beers. He found his way to the second floor. He had another surprise for Stevie, and it was in the final empty room, the nursery.
Before he entered the room, he took a deep breath, preparing himself to check the progress of the most difficult worker yet. Lindsey stepped inside and put the bottles by the door. He walked onto the canvas drop cloth, settling his hands onto his hips and scrutinizing the work. He watched her fluid brushstrokes and was in awe of her craft. "Wow," he murmured as his eyes drifted over the wall. Lindsey had not expected such a simple but beautifully profound creation. The flowers he couldn't name appeared so lifelike. Lindsey didn't know how she'd made them appear to be blowing in the wind. He admired the floral border along the top of the wall, taking in the shades and tints of purple. He thought the soft pink flowers with a yellow center were a nice contrast to the others. His eyes drifted to the quote committed to the soft ivory wall and followed the swirls and twirls of her calligraphy. She lives the poetry she cannot write. He dipped his head in approval of the Oscar Wilde quote. Lindsey took a few steps backwards and gazed appreciatively.
The brunette looked over her shoulder and put her brush into the tray. She stood next to him and glanced over her work. "Well?" she asked, unsure of how to gauge his silence and trancelike stare. "Exceed your expectations?" She wasn't sure if he even had any. When he phoned her, he told her to create something girly for one of the walls in the nursery. To her, his request signified that he'd finally accepted the majority vote that the baby would be a girl.
"It's amazing, Kat."
Her face broke into a pleased grin. She walked to the wall across from the mural and slid down, sitting on the floor. She stretched her legs out and watched him raise his arm. "Don't touch it! It's not dry!" she shrieked at him.
Lindsey let his arm fall to his side. "Sorry," he mumbled and turned around. "I should pay you for this," he told her sincerely and picked up a beer, offering it to her.
