Two Holts: Steele Coming Together
Remington still slept when Laura slipped out of bed on Sunday morning. She paused while she
wrapped her robe around her. It was impossible not to admire his still form for a moment.
He wasn’t a restless bed partner. Most of the time, he changed positions only once or twice a night
and often not at all. But no matter what he did, he kept one hand on her in some form or fashion.
She was still adjusting to the whole situation and liked it for the most part--except when he fell
asleep on “her” side of the bed. Remington seemed to have a complete disregard for things like
that. He crawled in on the left side of the bed just as often as he did the right--which drove her
nutty. She had always slept on the left side. When she off-handedly mentioned it one night, he just
smiled and told her to be flexible. Now it was yet another game they played with Laura determined
to get to that side of the bed before he did--or at least end up there after their nightly assignation--
and Remington just as equally resolute to keep her off-balance.
As frustrating as he could be, Laura was smart enough to recognize that the reason she liked him so
much was that he wasn’t afraid to stand up to her. It seemed as if every other man she’d dated had
ultimately caved in to her driven personality. Even in the early days when she thought she was
pulling all the strings, Remington managed to dance only to the ones he liked and left the rest
blowing in the breeze. He spoiled her often but never put her on a pedestal. In fact, he treated her
more like a real person than anyone else had in her life.
In the quiet dawn, she wandered around her new home. It was strange, really. She hadn’t truly
shared a space with anyone since college--and a dorm room was more of a storage locker with a bed
than a real home. At her little house, Wilson had moved in with her, only to move his bare few
possessions out again when he left. He didn’t make a mark when he arrived and left little evidence
of his departure, just a few odds and ends that were easily eliminated or ignored.
This place--this beautiful cream and black penthouse--wasn’t hers nor wholly Remington’s--
although he had purchased it a couple of years before. The décor still looked a little odd to her,
seeing her familiar things blended with his in a new setting. Still others were new, purchased as the
couple filled in gaps and furnished their space to their liking. The past week had certainly seen the
two of them wrangling over furniture arrangements and closet space.
Laura stepped into the kitchen and began heating water in the teapot. That was definitely
Remington’s influence. Before she met him, she didn’t breathe in the mornings without her cup of
coffee. Now there was an even chance she would start her day with tea.
He had absolutely forbidden her to step foot in the kitchen until he had it arranged the way he
wanted. But she had watched him unpack boxes and slot dishes and pans in the cabinets from
across the island, sitting on one of the new black barstools they had brought home last Friday. It
was kind of fun, actually. Remington had confessed that this was the first time in his life he had
moved more than just clothes and a few personal items from one place to the next. But in the past
four years, he had managed to add to the things she had originally purchased for his condo--art,
cookware, wine glasses, and a few electronics that all men seem to require. She had found it
entertaining that the only kitchen items of hers he insisted on keeping were the ones he had
purchased for her over that same time frame. Interesting how they blend so nicely, she thought
with amusement. I probably should have hurt feelings, but really, why argue with a man willing
to do all the cooking?
She sipped her tea as she leaned against the island and looked into the living room. The glass and
wood foyer on her left opened up into an enormous space, big enough for the new cream-colored
leather sofa and chairs in the center and her baby grand on the other side near the windows. She’d
had the idea to put red throw pillows on the sofas and to add little touches of the same in the accent
pieces around the room. The color scheme was reminiscent of the 1940’s and Remington had been
delighted with the outcome.
The left side of the room housed his big screen television and the right had an almost freestanding
fireplace framed out in black tile. On one side of it she could see into the dining room and the other
her home office. Immediately behind it was a relatively open space that Remington was angling to
put a pool table in. Yeah, we’ll see about that one.
Laura established the study as her own territory, and yesterday afternoon her husband had helped
her to unload all her books onto the shelves, running his hands along the titles as he handed them to
her. One or two of them found their way to the table next to their bed. She had been thrilled to
find a wide, two-sided desk that they could both use, although she had been ready to strangle her
husband as he dawdled over picking out a chair for his side. There was more she needed to do to
truly turn the space into a functional home office, but the computer and file cabinets could wait a
few weeks until she determined what was essential. In the meantime, Remington had hung quite a
few of her family pictures on the one vacant wall, knowing she would enjoy seeing them as she
worked.
Just outside her office, a pretty French door opened to the terrace. At the moment the space outside
was empty, but the pair had entertained seating and dining ideas as they shopped. Big enough for a
nice-sized grill, she had thoughts about surprising Remington with one. She’d seen him casually
peeking into several of them while they hunted for light bulbs at the hardware store.
At that, she laughed quietly. It was so terribly domesticated for both of them. Kitchens, baths, new
towels, furniture. And now she considered buying a grill for her husband. How traditional can I
get? On the other hand, it was something he certainly would have purchased for himself if he’d had
the space before--and he might beat her to it if she wasn’t quick enough.
She walked softly across the plush living room carpet. Remington’s cinematic artwork hung on the
wall over the television, and bookcases straddled both sides. Two bedrooms and a bath were off to
the left, down a short hallway, and the enormous master bedroom and bath were on the right.
Laura’s bed, a chair from her loft and a dresser turned one of the bedrooms into a guest room and
the other--well, that had been Remington’s latest surprise. Knowing how much she liked to keep in
shape, he’d had full-length mirrors installed along one wall and a ballet barre on another. He’d even
had black walnut wooden floors put in just for her, ones that matched the floors in the foyer,
kitchen and her office.
They had kept Remington’s bedroom furniture for their suite. His bed was bigger and Laura liked
the elegant lines of the room, although the bedspread was new. They had found one nearly solid
black with tiny pinstripes of cream and red. More red pillows on the bed punched up the whole
look. She did, however, get rid of the generic picture that had hung over his bed in the old place
and replaced it with a number of black framed photographs and sketches Remington had done over
the years, including the fan dance drawing of her that Frances had discovered last weekend. I still
haven’t gotten a good explanation for that one, she thought.
Her little glass trinkets made a nice contrast and softened the space. The hazy ivory fabric of the
floor-length curtains she'd hung on either side of the bedroom fireplace helped out there too, and the
geometric design woven into the material made it all blend together. Those same drapes hung
throughout the penthouse, filtering the light and softening the elegant lines of the décor. Last night,
they had left the windows open and watched the fabric dance in the cool breeze.
As she looked around at their new home, she thought of the possibilities: romantic interludes, quiet
dinners together, lively parties and even Christmas. She smiled and set down her empty teacup.
Maybe it's time to wake up Xenos.
8 March 2009
Remington still slept when Laura slipped out of bed on Sunday morning. She paused while she
wrapped her robe around her. It was impossible not to admire his still form for a moment.
He wasn’t a restless bed partner. Most of the time, he changed positions only once or twice a night
and often not at all. But no matter what he did, he kept one hand on her in some form or fashion.
She was still adjusting to the whole situation and liked it for the most part--except when he fell
asleep on “her” side of the bed. Remington seemed to have a complete disregard for things like
that. He crawled in on the left side of the bed just as often as he did the right--which drove her
nutty. She had always slept on the left side. When she off-handedly mentioned it one night, he just
smiled and told her to be flexible. Now it was yet another game they played with Laura determined
to get to that side of the bed before he did--or at least end up there after their nightly assignation--
and Remington just as equally resolute to keep her off-balance.
As frustrating as he could be, Laura was smart enough to recognize that the reason she liked him so
much was that he wasn’t afraid to stand up to her. It seemed as if every other man she’d dated had
ultimately caved in to her driven personality. Even in the early days when she thought she was
pulling all the strings, Remington managed to dance only to the ones he liked and left the rest
blowing in the breeze. He spoiled her often but never put her on a pedestal. In fact, he treated her
more like a real person than anyone else had in her life.
In the quiet dawn, she wandered around her new home. It was strange, really. She hadn’t truly
shared a space with anyone since college--and a dorm room was more of a storage locker with a bed
than a real home. At her little house, Wilson had moved in with her, only to move his bare few
possessions out again when he left. He didn’t make a mark when he arrived and left little evidence
of his departure, just a few odds and ends that were easily eliminated or ignored.
This place--this beautiful cream and black penthouse--wasn’t hers nor wholly Remington’s--
although he had purchased it a couple of years before. The décor still looked a little odd to her,
seeing her familiar things blended with his in a new setting. Still others were new, purchased as the
couple filled in gaps and furnished their space to their liking. The past week had certainly seen the
two of them wrangling over furniture arrangements and closet space.
Laura stepped into the kitchen and began heating water in the teapot. That was definitely
Remington’s influence. Before she met him, she didn’t breathe in the mornings without her cup of
coffee. Now there was an even chance she would start her day with tea.
He had absolutely forbidden her to step foot in the kitchen until he had it arranged the way he
wanted. But she had watched him unpack boxes and slot dishes and pans in the cabinets from
across the island, sitting on one of the new black barstools they had brought home last Friday. It
was kind of fun, actually. Remington had confessed that this was the first time in his life he had
moved more than just clothes and a few personal items from one place to the next. But in the past
four years, he had managed to add to the things she had originally purchased for his condo--art,
cookware, wine glasses, and a few electronics that all men seem to require. She had found it
entertaining that the only kitchen items of hers he insisted on keeping were the ones he had
purchased for her over that same time frame. Interesting how they blend so nicely, she thought
with amusement. I probably should have hurt feelings, but really, why argue with a man willing
to do all the cooking?
She sipped her tea as she leaned against the island and looked into the living room. The glass and
wood foyer on her left opened up into an enormous space, big enough for the new cream-colored
leather sofa and chairs in the center and her baby grand on the other side near the windows. She’d
had the idea to put red throw pillows on the sofas and to add little touches of the same in the accent
pieces around the room. The color scheme was reminiscent of the 1940’s and Remington had been
delighted with the outcome.
The left side of the room housed his big screen television and the right had an almost freestanding
fireplace framed out in black tile. On one side of it she could see into the dining room and the other
her home office. Immediately behind it was a relatively open space that Remington was angling to
put a pool table in. Yeah, we’ll see about that one.
Laura established the study as her own territory, and yesterday afternoon her husband had helped
her to unload all her books onto the shelves, running his hands along the titles as he handed them to
her. One or two of them found their way to the table next to their bed. She had been thrilled to
find a wide, two-sided desk that they could both use, although she had been ready to strangle her
husband as he dawdled over picking out a chair for his side. There was more she needed to do to
truly turn the space into a functional home office, but the computer and file cabinets could wait a
few weeks until she determined what was essential. In the meantime, Remington had hung quite a
few of her family pictures on the one vacant wall, knowing she would enjoy seeing them as she
worked.
Just outside her office, a pretty French door opened to the terrace. At the moment the space outside
was empty, but the pair had entertained seating and dining ideas as they shopped. Big enough for a
nice-sized grill, she had thoughts about surprising Remington with one. She’d seen him casually
peeking into several of them while they hunted for light bulbs at the hardware store.
At that, she laughed quietly. It was so terribly domesticated for both of them. Kitchens, baths, new
towels, furniture. And now she considered buying a grill for her husband. How traditional can I
get? On the other hand, it was something he certainly would have purchased for himself if he’d had
the space before--and he might beat her to it if she wasn’t quick enough.
She walked softly across the plush living room carpet. Remington’s cinematic artwork hung on the
wall over the television, and bookcases straddled both sides. Two bedrooms and a bath were off to
the left, down a short hallway, and the enormous master bedroom and bath were on the right.
Laura’s bed, a chair from her loft and a dresser turned one of the bedrooms into a guest room and
the other--well, that had been Remington’s latest surprise. Knowing how much she liked to keep in
shape, he’d had full-length mirrors installed along one wall and a ballet barre on another. He’d even
had black walnut wooden floors put in just for her, ones that matched the floors in the foyer,
kitchen and her office.
They had kept Remington’s bedroom furniture for their suite. His bed was bigger and Laura liked
the elegant lines of the room, although the bedspread was new. They had found one nearly solid
black with tiny pinstripes of cream and red. More red pillows on the bed punched up the whole
look. She did, however, get rid of the generic picture that had hung over his bed in the old place
and replaced it with a number of black framed photographs and sketches Remington had done over
the years, including the fan dance drawing of her that Frances had discovered last weekend. I still
haven’t gotten a good explanation for that one, she thought.
Her little glass trinkets made a nice contrast and softened the space. The hazy ivory fabric of the
floor-length curtains she'd hung on either side of the bedroom fireplace helped out there too, and the
geometric design woven into the material made it all blend together. Those same drapes hung
throughout the penthouse, filtering the light and softening the elegant lines of the décor. Last night,
they had left the windows open and watched the fabric dance in the cool breeze.
As she looked around at their new home, she thought of the possibilities: romantic interludes, quiet
dinners together, lively parties and even Christmas. She smiled and set down her empty teacup.
Maybe it's time to wake up Xenos.
8 March 2009
Steele Holting On
Steele Holting On
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