“Of course it is,” he replied confidently. “Because everything you design is awesome. Especially the remodels you drew up for our own place, even if it isn’t exactly a tiny home.”
Scarlett scowled. “Not my choice, as you’re well aware.”
Jackson sighed, mentally kicking himself for bringing up such a touchy and often contentious subject. “Oh, believe me, babe. I’m all too well aware. But at least I compromised and agreed that we’d use a tiny home for our office.”
When they had agreed to settle in the Portland area after Scarlett had completed her one year internship with a local firm, Jackson had set his foot down rather firmly about actually living in one of the very small homes their brand new firm would be designing, building, and installing.
“Sorry for being over six feet tall and needing more space to move around,” he’d grumbled during one of their numerous debates on the matter. “I also tend to get a little claustrophobic at times, believe it or not.”
“Hmm.” She had looked anything but convinced. “Then why am I just now learning about this supposed phobia of yours?”
He’d grinned teasingly in response. “Hey, guys don’t like fessing up to their women that they’re scared of anything. Have to act like the big macho men we are.”
Scarlett had eyed him warily. “Sounds like a bunch of malarkey to me. And how is it going to look to our potential clients - you know, the ones who are hopefully going to buy these little homes - if we’re living in some huge ass house? Kind of hypocritical if you ask me.”
Jackson had shrugged. “And how are they going to know, huh? I don’t plan on inviting any clients to our home, just our office. And since initially it will just be the two of us working there, a tiny structure should work just fine. Unless, of course, we expand and need more space.”
She’d waggled a finger at him warningly. “Don’t even go there right now, okay? You’re already treading on thin ice, mister. So, break it to me gently. Just how big of a place did you envision us living in? Because I’ll tell you right now, Jackson Gilmore. I am not living in a McMansion like your parents. That is an obscene, wasteful amount of square footage for just two people and there’s no way - ”
“Nowhere near that big,” he’d interrupted. “Something along the lines of two thousand square feet, maybe a bit bigger. And outdoor space, too. Can you live with that?”
“Maybe,” she’d mumbled sulkily. “Though I still don’t see why we can’t at least start out in a tiny home, give it a try.”
He had taken her in his arms then, touching his forehead to hers. “Because,” he’d whispered, “I doubt we could fit a king sized bed into any of your designs. And the two of us - well, we definitely need a big bed for what we get up to between the sheets.”
That had elicited a laugh from her, a laugh that had been quickly swallowed up by the insistent pressure of his lips upon hers.
They had looked at more than two dozen houses in several different neighborhoods and suburbs of Portland before agreeing on a Craftsman style home in the Laurelhurst neighborhood. The majority of the houses there were of classic, vintage styles, and the neighborhood was one of the oldest in Portland. Jackson and Scarlett loved the nearby park, the abundance of walking paths, and the historic vibe on every street.
The house itself was quite a bit larger than Scarlett had really wanted, but after living there for almost two years she’d grown used to the space. Her favorite spot was the spacious front porch, where she loved to sit in one of the rocking chairs with a mug of coffee and a sketch pad, no matter the weather. Even though she had a home office complete with another drafting table, she preferred to work outside more often than not. Both of them also loved the backyard with its wide lawn, profusion of trees and shrubs, and the hot tub that Jackson had insisted on having installed. There was also a separate cottage on the property that he’d converted into a workshop, a place to keep all of his tools and where he tinkered with his newest passion - building furniture.
He’d been inspired to do so by Margie, who had moved to a suburb of Portland with Roz almost two years ago. The married couple had finally taken a well-deserved retirement, sold their home in Las Vegas, and moved West. Scarlett had been giddy with happiness to have her former foster mothers living less than an hour away, and even more so when they had chosen a tiny home - one of the very first Scarlett and Jackson had designed and built - to be their primary residence. Their second home was the RV they had always dreamed of buying, and they spent weeks at a time on the road exploring and visiting new places. But when they were in Oregon, Margie could occasionally be persuaded to lend her carpentry expertise in helping to build out some of Scarlett’s designs. Roz, who couldn’t quite let go of the need to help those less fortunate, often volunteered at nursing homes, hospitals, and with youth groups.
Scarlett still kept in regular contact with Ananda and Isaiah, and the couple had stayed with them during a visit to Portland. Jackson’s best friend Riley was also a frequent visitor, and had even declared more than once that he was seriously thinking of relocating so he could live nearby. Fortunately - at least in Scarlett’s opinion - Riley had proven to be no more serious about moving than he was about anything else in his life. Still, she’d grown used to him by now, and considered him her friend as well as Jackson’s, even if his level of maturity needed to be taken up by several degrees.
Her relationship with her family - grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins - continued to grow and strengthen, especially with her grandmother and Aunt Kim. She kept in close touch with both women, mostly by text and email, and made sure to visit with the whole clan whenever she and Jackson were in Phoenix, about three or four times a year. Those Gilmore family visits rarely if ever included Neil, however, though Hannah had set her foot down and insisted she be allowed to spend a lot more time with her father’s side of the family. Scarlett’s own relationship with her father remained cool and distant, and she doubted they would ever be even remotely close.
It had, in fact, been Roz and Margie who’d walked her up the aisle and given her away when she and Jackson had been married. The wedding ceremony had been small and intimate, attended only by Jackson’s immediate family, Riley, Margie, Roz, Ananda, and Isaiah, and held at a small winery in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. To appease Candace, they had somewhat reluctantly agreed to let her throw a large, lavish reception back in Phoenix for a few hundred of their extended family, friends, neighbors, and clients. And while such an over the top event had been the very last thing Scarlett had wanted, she knew how much it had pleased her new mother-in-law and it had helped a lot in strengthening their budding relationship.
Scarlett and Jackson had been married for less than a year, with their first wedding anniversary coming up in two months. She’d been somewhat reluctant to get married, uncertain about taking such a big step, and convinced that she would make a lousy wife.
“While I admit I’ve mellowed a bit,” she had grudgingly admitted, “that doesn’t mean I’m ideal wife material. I’m still bossy and stubborn and insist on doing things my way most of the time. And even though my cooking skills have improved quite a bit, I’m never going to be much of a whiz in the kitchen. I still dislike getting dressed up or wearing makeup or doing much with my hair beyond dragging a comb through it. I can be cranky and a real pain in the ass, and God knows why you’d ever want to consider marrying someone like me.”