Shelter from The Storm

a/n This week's story should have been A Perfect Fourth of July...but it's here on ff as a oneshot, so pls go read it, enjoy! Instead we're jumping ahead a few years, Zoe is about 6.

Chapter 44 ~ The House

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Stephanie looked around as the Porsche rolled over yet another bridge. Left and right, pretty scenes of salt marshes and white sand coves and blue green water. Far off to the left, beyond Ranger's silent face, she could see the misty edges of what must be the Atlantic Ocean. In the coves were a few boats, both large and small, and Steph could see colorful tents and umbrellas and big red or blue plastic coolers. A few people fishing or swimming or sunbathing.

She said, "So what're we doing here, Ranger? We're camping? Or God forbid, going fishing?"

"Just wait and see, babe. It's a surprise."

"Hunh."

The Cayenne coasted down the final hump of the last bridge, stopped at an intersection that seemed to go nowhere, at least nowhere forward. Dead end at the ocean. Ranger made a left and drove—inched—into a tiny town, a tiny seaside town that had a 10 MPH speed limit posted and a cop in a white Tahoe sitting at the only stoplight, waiting there to enforce it.

The town appeared to be about six short blocks long. Steph could see the ocean again at the end of the—ha, ha!—main drag and one block each way on the cross streets. On the bay side to her left was a very large marina, filled with sailboats and big cabin cruisers and even some commercial-looking fishing trawlers.

"I guess we're not in Jersey anymore," said Steph. There weren't too many cars, mostly big SUVs like the Cayenne and a few sporty convertibles. All had NY State plates.

Ranger didn't answer. Probably he thought all the signs—Jones Beach, Fire Island, Montauk was clue enough. He made another left at the first tiny cross street and drove to the end of the block. The dozen or so houses were a mixture of small renovated bungalows and big beach houses, all shoved tight together and all sporting masses of colorful flowers and big seashells on the raised front steps. Lots of American flags waving against the bright blue July sky.

Ranger parked at the final house at the end of the street. It looked brand-new—the windows still had their Weld-Jenn labels on them—and whoever built it must have torn down at least eight of the tiny bungalows. It was part 3-story sprawling Victorian, part Nantucket gray shingled beach mansion, with a turret and a widows walk and wraparound decks. The shutters were blueberry blue, the deck railings bright white and the big double doors were persimmon rose-red. No yard or lawn, but lots of big terracotta pots filled with masses of petunias and geraniums and happy golden marigolds.

Dubiously eying the exuberant flowers Steph followed Ranger up the hand-set flagstone steps. When they got to the door instead of knocking or ringing the bell—or in Ranger's case, kicking the doors in—he handed Steph a set of keys.

She looked at the brass keys in her hand and said, "What did you do?"

"I bought us a house, babe. I hope you like it…." He sounded a tiny bit less self-assured than usual.

She said, "You know I don't want a house!"

"Steph, we've discussed this for weeks, I know you didn't want to bother to look for a house, but I think you'll like this one if you'll just try."

He took the keys from her and led her into an open area with a cathedral ceiling and sweeping stairway.

Stephanie said, "I don't want to move to New York! I want to stay in Trenton! You can't possibly commute from here every day, Ranger. And Zoe is in school—she likes her school."

Ranger said calmly, "This can be for weekends for now, Steph. But when the baby comes,"—he gestured to her bulging tummy—"we're going to need more space. This way you can enjoy the summers here at the beach, the kids can play outside safely…. And you can sort of ease yourself into the house idea."

"So this is not for full time?"

"Not if you don't want it to be but it's a nice little town. It has great bars and restaurants and a couple art galleries, a good wine shop, a library, a yoga place. A marina, the beach."

A helicopter landing pad….

No crime. No Helen Plum...

Steph narrowed her eyes at him, "If I look this place up, is it going to be in the top 100 most expensive zip codes in the United States?"

"Maybe," he waffled. "But it's not pretentious, it's just the location. It's very small and friendly."

"Hmmmm."

Stephanie walked through the large empty house, noting the gourmet kitchen(stainless/ granite), the in-ground pool, the light-filled master bedroom with spa bath and the stunning ocean and salt marsh views from every window.

Finally Ranger said, "Do you think you can make a home here, babe?"

"Sure, Ranger, all I need is a plan, a bomb, and a willing ruthless accomplice and it'll be home sweet home. We'll fit right in—me, Batman, the bat babies, our Rangeman bodyguards, Ella and Louis, the au pair and the rest of the gang…it'll be a blast. I can't wait to show it to Lula!"

"Babe. Promise me—no bombs."

"Sure—I'll try real hard."

Ranger hugged her and their unborn second daughter. And he hoped for the best.

the end, series tbc

Thanks for reviewing!

Don't forget to read (or reread?) A Perfect Fourth of July...and Happy Summer! love, sunny