Page 213

Nervously fiddling with his shirt, Christian rechecked the address. Looking up at the house, he squinted at the number printed on the side in bold numerals. All in all, it looked like he was in the right place, but somehow, he didn’t equate the house with General Winter.

In the low light of the dying evening, Christian could see it was one-story and ranch-style. The house had a sizable porch, with a couple of chairs and a small table, looking out over the sea behind him. The lawn was well taken care of, full and green, and he couldn’t make out a single weed. More surprising was the lush growth in a flowerbed running along the front of the house, against the half-wall that marked the property's perimeter and around the majestic weeping willow in the front lawn.

“Didn’t even know those grew here,” Christian commented as he eyed the tree.

There was a simple beauty to the design of the flower beds that Christian didn’t see very often. It was obvious everything was well taken care of, probably with a dedicated and attentive hand. But instead of looking carefully laid out and meticulously planted, there was a sort of chaos, albeit controlled. Daisiesmingled with lilies, and a few large flowering vines crept up trellises against the house's outer walls.

Grunting in approval, he stepped onto the front walk, which was also clear of weeds. The front steps looked well-used but safe, and as he looked over, he saw only one of the chairs had a cushion.

Looking at the front door, Christian cleared his throat and took a deep breath, forcing himself to knock. It felt oddly like showing up for a highly anticipated date, and he hadn’t been able to shake the butterflies in his stomach from the moment he’d left work. Showering, shaving, brushing his teeth, and choosing his outfit had all been done with the care of someone going for a big night out. It didn’t matter how much he told himself it was a friendly invitation. That meant absolutely nothing, and he couldn’t relax.

The door swung wide, and General Winter stared at him through the screen door.

“Christian, you made it. And early, as usual.”

“Ah, sorry, General, I wasn’t thinking. Hopefully, I didn’t put you off schedule?”

“I can promise you, I’m just as prone to being early as you are, so you’re just in time. Come on in, and...call me David, please. This isn’t supposed to be a formal occasion.”

Christian nodded, taking the door as the general pushed it open for him. He had to remind himself to think of him as David. It’s not like Christian didn’t know General Winter’s first name or anything, but he’d never called him by it, not even in conversation with another person. It seemed disrespectful to refer to the general he respected highly by his first name when his title and surname were far more appropriate.

He was led into a small entryway where he kicked off his shoes and carefully aligned them with the boots and another ratty pair of shoes. There wasn’t much of a hallway, only aboutfour or so feet before it opened up into the rest of the house. More specifically, it opened into a spacious dining room with a solid table and eight chairs in the middle.

David chuckled, waving a hand toward the house. “I’m sure you’re dying to look around, so go ahead.”

“You know me too well,” Christian said.

Christian wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity, so he moved to the left of the table, where the space continued into a study with a small loveseat, bookshelves, and a desk with a computer. A set of closed double doors stood to his left, and Christian would hazard a guess they led to the master bedroom.

As he passed through the dining room, he spotted the kitchen to the right. The only thing separating it from the rest of the house was a wall where a fridge and stove sat and the large counter space, with three tall barstools facing toward the dining room. General Winter stood at the stove, bent over as he fussed with whatever was cooking.

To the right of the dining room, an arch opened up and dropped down into the living room. The furniture was dark leather, the large coffee table in front of the couch was glass-topped, and the legs looked like genuine wood. Against the far wall was a sizeable TV in an entertainment system lined with even more books than the study.

Going past the living room, another hallway, longer and wider than the others stretched back, and Christian saw two doors at the end, one on each side and another identical set halfway down.

General Winter’s voice piped up from behind him. “That’s only a couple of guest rooms, my workout room, and the second bathroom.”

“Only?” Christian asked, thinking of his one-bedroom apartment with what was essentially a half bath.

“This was the house they gave me when I was first stationed here, so I’ve done what I can to try and make it a little more me,” David explained.

Christian turned, deciding he probably didn’t need to see the bedrooms. “I figured this was the one you chose.”

David chuckled, disappearing back into the kitchen as he spoke. “Truth be told, this isn’t far off what I’d have liked for my home if I’d had a choice. I could have had a choice, but this was the first place that opened up that they thought suited my position, and I took it. Been here for years, and I’ve been steadily working at it. The deck alone took me almost a year, and it’s not even that big.”

Christian rounded the corner, standing at the counter to watch David cook. He stood on the dining room side to stay out of the way.

“I didn’t even see a deck,” Christian admitted.

David nodded over Christian’s shoulder. “I keep the windows on that side of the house shuttered at this time of night. There’re so many windows in this house you’d be blinded at sundown.”

Christian turned, realizing he was facing west, and nodded. Most of the west side of the house was large windows.

“Great during the morning and daytime, not so much in the evening,” David continued.

“Is the backyard as nice as the front?” Christian asked.

“I certainly hope so, though Sara tells me no one notices the plants when I’ve got a jacuzzi on the deck.”