Chapter 3: A Step at a Time

"Thank God that's over with. I can hardly stand," Charlotte groaned with a sigh as I helped her into her coat. She had changed from her heels into sneakers for comfort and relief.

"Let me take your bag and we'll be on our way."

She didn't resist. I could see how tired and sore she was after five days of standing in a small booth and answering questions from passers-by. We were less than five minutes getting to my car and beginning the drive to the Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal. We had plenty of time to catch the five o'clock ferry and be back in the Comox Valley before nine pm. That would give her a chance to soak in the tub and get a good night's sleep.

It was a light load, and few passengers were sitting at the back in the main seating area. The line-up to the cafeteria was long and I had no intention of standing there. I knew Charlotte wasn't up to it either.

"I know a nice place we can get something to eat on our way out of Nanaimo," I suggested. "We'll both be hungry by then."

She nodded, sitting beside me, her coat folded between us and her now shoeless feet tucked up on the seat. By the time we were underway, she was asleep, leaning on my shoulder for a headrest. I didn't mind in the slightest. Toying with the idea of putting my arm around her, I decided not to. It was too soon to get familiar.

It was dark and there was little to see out the windows. Halfway across another ferry passed us heading in the opposite direction. After that, only the blackness of the night until I could see the lights of Nanaimo as we approached Newcastle Island and Departure Bay. I gently woke Charlotte in plenty of time to have her gather herself and come fully awake.

"Was I asleep all the way?"

"Yes, you were exhausted and you needed that nap," I smiled.

"Oh, I did. I feel better now. And I'm hungry. We have to find a place to eat. You don't want to hear when my stomach growls," she frowned.

"I know just the place. About five minutes from the ferry dock."

At that moment, the announcement to return to our vehicles was made and I helped Charlotte to her feet as we made for the stairway to our car deck. I had hold of her arm for support, although I wasn't sure it was necessary. Nonetheless, she didn't shake it off and walked closely beside me until we got to the stairs.

My calculation of five minutes to the Timber Trail Pub and Restaurant was a little out, but not by much. It was just after seven o'clock when we walked into the upper restaurant and saw it was lightly populated. We were seated immediately and took very little time to peruse the menu.

A glass of red wine was ordered for us both as we gave the waitress our dinner order. Charlotte hadn't protested with either the wine selection or my intention to pay the bill. I found myself studying her face once more, and once more I couldn't help fixing on that lovely visage.

"You're staring at me again," she said with what I thought might be disapproval.

"I'm going to stop apologizing for it. Whatever it is about you ... your face ... I cannot quite understand. But I am drawn to it, and I have no will to look away. They say that Helen of Troy had a face that launched a thousand ships. I never thought that could be possible until I saw you that Saturday."

"Now really, Nolan. That is sooooo over the top," she said with a mocking smile. "I get that you think it's ... nice, but really, let's keep it within the realm of reality."

"I don't think it's nice," I said with emphasis on her lame description. "I think it is amazing. I think it has been a gift of genetics and fate that it has been created in such a way that it is perfect."

"Nonsense," she said, but again, not showing irritation. "My nose is too big."

"No ... it is not. You have a long, oval face with a strong jaw and a tall forehead. You need that nose to bring all those pieces of perfection together. Your cheekbones are perfectly shaped to highlight your eyes and frame that nose. Your lips are thin and that is exactly how they should be. I'm probably not expressing myself very well, but I think you get the idea.

"The moment I saw you three weeks ago, I thought you were exceptional. You have inherited your looks, but you have discovered exactly how to express them. I told you before, you are a perfect example of 'less is more.' Less makeup, less jewelry, less complication in the clothes you wear. That's who you are."

My comments appeared to have rendered her speechless. She continued eating her meal and didn't respond. Was she convinced? That remained to be seen. What I didn't want to do was drive her away. I wasn't some junior pervert or stalker after her body. Well, that wasn't how I wanted to be perceived, anyway. Being honest with myself, I lusted after Charlotte Pierce more than any other woman I had ever known. That included the two young women who had slipped away on me when I thought I was seriously in love with them. I was now re-evaluating that belief.

We finished our meal without further discussion and left for the hour-plus drive north to Courtenay. There was very little talk along the way. I thought Charlotte might drop off to sleep once more, but each time I looked over at her, she was still awake, looking out the windshield into the darkness beyond my headlights. I wondered what was going through her mind at the time.

It was a quarter past nine when I walked her to her apartment lobby. She thanked me for the ride and I reminded her we would meet at the house at nine on Tuesday morning. She said she would be there and I watched as she entered the lobby and unlocked the door into the main building. Driving off toward my home, I wondered if I hadn't screwed up our potential relationship by overdoing it with the description of her face. In retrospect, I wasn't very articulate, but I felt I was honest. I hoped she felt that too.

"Good morning," I smiled as Charlotte strode up the winding incline path to my front door.

"Hi, Nolan. I didn't really understand just how this house fits this setting until I got here and saw it in person. If your friend designed this and placed it, he did an excellent job."

She sounded bright and cheery with the pensive mood from Sunday night gone.

"I agree, it's set right where it should be, on the headland of the lot."

"I can see why they call this Sand Pines," she said. "All the surrounding area is sandy or sandy soil. It must have been blown up here from the beach."

"If it was, it came a long way. It's got to be two kilometres to the beach and the sand is a couple of feet deep in places. Why don't we walk around and view the house from the outside before we start on the inside."

"Good idea. I brought my camera," she said, showing a Digital SLR in her hand.

Walking with her around the property, I pointed out the sight lines from the house. She had come prepared for a work environment, wearing jeans and a sweat shirt under a windbreaker. On her feet were sneakers with ankle socks. On her head, she wore a bandanna that covered most of her beautiful blonde mane. And once again, she was wearing little if any makeup. Perhaps my comments the other night were not lost on her.

It was a breezy but generally sunny morning, with scattered cloud here and there. She asked to go up to the deck and see what the area was like, as well as what differing views the deck offered. She could see the Comox Glacier in the west and the tops of several mountains on the mainland in the north-east. There was no view of Georgia Strait, however.

"This is amazing, Nolan. This is such a rare setting ... and the privacy. That land behind you is a nature conservancy if I'm not mistaken. You're very close to the airport. Does the noise bother you?"

"No, not really. Unless the fighter jets are here from Cold Lake, it's a pretty lightly used airport. I certainly don't lose any sleep over it. Why don't we go inside and I'll show you around."

Escorting her in through the front entrance, I took her jacket, hanging it on a coat tree in the foyer. I let her decide where she wanted to go and what she wanted to see, convinced she had her own ideas about how to view this project.

"This is a very nice room," she said, looking around the great room. "You have lots of light and plenty of space. It will be interesting to see how you want to furnish this room."

She took almost an hour to go through the house, room by room. She took pictures, asked questions, and made comments, and I could see and hear the enthusiasm building as she went. It was the first time I'd seen her face really animated, and it was just as captivating as when I first saw her.

"Okay," I said as we returned to the great room. "I have some questions for you. How do you feel about the colours and types of tile I have chosen for the floors and the bathroom shower stalls?"

"Where is the dog?" she asked, ignoring my question.

"He's over at the neighbours, out of your way."

"Does he jump on the furniture or the bed?"

I could see where she was going with this quiz. "No. He's really good that way. Sleeps on the rug by the back door if I'm out shopping or at work. Otherwise, I made a bed frame and a cushion for him. It's in the laundry room. He usually sleeps there at night."

"Okay, good, so I don't have to worry about him being on the furniture then. When am I going to meet him?" she asked with a smile.