Climb | ✔

Chapter 1 | Homecoming

On a balmy September evening, a woman who had grown accustomed to living alone was laboring to change that fact.

Rosamaria Arias-Moore--more lovingly known as simply "Rose"-- was presently lugging a box full of clothes and other teenage paraphernalia up to the second story of her shophouse.

"How many more boxes?" she asked, groaning as her half-niece handed her another.

"This is the last," the girl replied as she balanced the final box on her knee. Once she judged it safe to do so, she lifted a hand off the box to shut the trunk of Rose's Jeep.

They carried the last of the packages through the maze of antiques and furniture in the store front and up into the loft. Winter took a moment to stretch her cramped fingers and digest the years of changes that she'd missed in her half-Aunt's apartment.

She was only a little girl when she last visited, no older than ten, and she realized that her childhood memory failed to capture many of the details of her aunt's home. She did not remember the board-and-batten walls accenting the living room, nor the hoosier cabinet with chevron accents in the kitchen. She wondered if they were always there. 

"I like what you did with the place," she said. "Especially all the mid-century stuff."

"Oh, I know, right? I scored big at a roadshow a few years ago and restored all of it," Rose explained.

The two stood in silence for a moment while Winter continued to digest both the décor and apprehension she felt. Change was always frightening, but even more so when it was as deliberate as moving to a new country and being put in the care of your half-aunt, who you only half-knew.

Rose clapped her hands and rubbed them together. "Ok, I'll show you your room."

She guided Winter through to the back of the hall and tugged on the rope of an access door fixed overhead, pulling it and the collapsing staircase down so they could ascend into the attic.

The attic itself was as large as the entirety of the lower loft, though the gabled roofs restricted much of the space. Even so, the room was stunning, complete with eclectic furnishings and a warm, bohemian vibe. Bursts of orange and azure blue decorated the space with a sense of liveliness that her Aunt Rose had always embodied. The brassware open-frame bed sat appealingly across the ways, adorned with decorative pillows and a green-blue throw blanket. Above the bed, an exposed-bulb dangled from one of the ceiling joists. 

"This is amazing, Aunt Rose. You really didn't have to do all this."

"Oh, please. God knows your dad sent over enough money to build a new house," she joked.

Winter forced a chuckle, the sort that doesn't reach the soul in much the same way a fake smile doesn't reach the eyes.

"Well, kiddo," Rose began awkwardly. Kids were not her forte, considering she had none of her own. "I hate to do this to you on your first day here, but I have a vanity that needs finishing for the morning," she said, referring to her work in the shop. "But tonight is just you, me, and whatever takeout food your heart desires."

Winter gave a sheepish wave of her hands. "Oh, that's fine, really," she assured.

She was about to tell her that she'd take the time to unpack and relax, but her aunt jumped in before she could get another word in.

"But I've got a great idea for how you can spend your first day here!" she exclaimed, descending the steps in eager hops and collecting her keys from the dinner table on the way out. Winter followed.