Due in part to my own curiosity about what will happen with Rebecca and also in part to the encouragement of my readers, I have decided to go a little further with my tale of the woman who must begin again in her century old house. Because I have no idea where I am going with this story (perhaps I better think about a rough outline or I shall find myself rambling on and on) I used Bonnie's prompt at Weekend Wordsmith for direction in this next chapter. (If you need or want to read the first chapter "Salve for her Soul" you can read that here.)
Without further adieu I offer you "Glass Omen"
"At least the flower beds look decent" Rebecca thought. The kitchen was a sunny yellow with white cabinets and old, hand embroidered cafe curtains. The porcelain coated sink was chipped and the floor was a cheap linoleum that had certainly seen better days. She poured a glass of iced green tea and sat for a moment at the kitchen table to glance at the list.
"One down - and eighty seven to go. Give or take." There was a time when this to-do list would have overwhelmed her. She thought about the condo that she and Rick had shared with their daughter. Everything about that place was perfect from the manicured lawn to the polite doorman with polished brass buttons on his crisp navy blue uniform. Rick chose the condo - he liked order and could never have lived in a house like this one. For a while he even had her believing that a home should be modern, clean and simple - that an old home would drain their resources. They would never be finished working on it. Thinking about it now, Rebecca figured that was part of the charm. That the house was as much of a work in progress as she was.
The draft was more noticeable now. At first she thought she had imagined it. She walked back in to the pantry and saw the shards of glass on the floor. "Damn it" she thought to herself. "How did I not see that before?" The rain had come in from last night's storm and puddles formed on the floor. Rebecca realized that the floor was now a priority and more than just an aesthetic nightmare. Of course the glass would have to be replaced straight away.
She went back to the kitchen and unwrapped the brand new phone book. Flipping through to "Glass" her eyes fell right away to the simple ad in the corner. It promised same day service and free estimates but that was not what had caught her attention. It was the name: Garrett Glass.
She thought about the last time she has seen Garrett Lewsinski. He had wonderfully soft dark brown eyes and wavy brown hair. He was always a little off-center, but that was what she had liked about him. They had been great friends, he being her greatest confidant. In the end, that was what had torn them apart. "I can't afford to be your friend, Becca. " he announced one hot summer evening. "I can't listen to you talk about the guys you go out with and wipe your tears and tell you jokes to cheer you up anymore." This revelation stunned her. She couldn't say anything - a lump formed in her throat and even though she wanted to cry out to him as he drove away in that god-forsaken 1971 Toyota Pickup the words never formed. She just let him go.
"That was so long ago - maybe 20 years... surely by now he won't even remember me. Maybe Garrett Glass isn't even his!" she thought. Still, Rebecca decided to call a different number. It rang and rang and rang... no answer. A second number was simply busy. After deciding it was an omen - that she was meant to call Garrett Glass her fingers tentatively dialed the number. What would she say? On the third ring, through the distinct sound of cracking gum she heard a girl's voice "Garrett Glass, can I help you?"