A/N:

More about the Kane quotes: They often help set the tone, and sometimes, I write whole chapters around them. So they should be helpful even if you haven't seen the movie.

"There's a lot of pictures and statues in Europe you haven't bought yet."

"You can't blame me, Mr. Bernstein. They've been making statues for two thousand years, and I've only been buying for five."

- Mr. Bernstein & Kane

April 15, 2010

Bella

"How many bedrooms did you say you want?" the realtor asks once we reach the bottom of the staircase.

Edward shifts his gaze from me to Gianna, then back again.

I shrug. I don't know why she didn't ask before we toured the gazillion square feet, but maybe she thought it didn't matter. There are plenty of rooms.

"I don't know. Three, maybe?" Edward guesses. "So we could have two guest rooms. Then later..." he trails shyly, and my heart flutters with the implication.

Gianna smiles. She appears unaffected by our lack of decisiveness. Maybe she's used to it.

"Well, that's good. You'll have an extra room for things like music or movies."

I wonder if we'll have a room just for gift wrapping, like the Spellings. I hold back my laugh, turning to face the stairs to hide my inexplicable amusement.

Our real estate encyclopedia picks up on my presumed interest.

"Those stone steps were custom made. The previous owner chose them. Aren't they pretty?"

I nod; they really are. All cream with swirls of pink and pure white...

"Would you like a few minutes?" she asks professionally, sensing a lull in conversation.

"Sure," Edward agrees from behind me. Gianna walks about 15 feet away, probably to pretend she's not listening.

I turn to face Edward, who immediately cups my face in his hands. He looks down at me, reading my eyes.

"Do you like the house?"

"Of course," I answer truthfully. "Who wouldn't? It's beautiful."

"I agree. I kind of want to add an atrium, though."

"An atrium?" I ask, a small skylight coming to mind.

He nods, pulling me into his arms.

"Have you ever seen an atrium in a house, Isabella? In real life?" I shake my head hesitantly, knowing that he's leading up to something.

"Me neither. I've only seen them in books." Edward stresses the last word, a sense of awe in his tone as he looks around. He shakes his head before continuing.

"No, I don't think atrium is the right word. That suggests glass... You know how the Romans had those gardens right in the middle of their homes, with no ceiling above them? With grass and everything. A courtyard."

"You want to do that here?" I laugh in shock.

Edward looks up, his boyish excitement taking over his expression. The ceiling is high here, near the front of the house. The second floor starts a little ways back, with the top of the stairs and a veranda-like, wrap-around walkway.

"Sure, why not?"

"Because it already has a ceiling. And a floor."

"That could be fixed."

"So how do you like it?" our encyclopedia asks loudly, interrupting our stalemate.

She must be getting worried over the sound of us arguing, even if it is mostly in jest. That never is a good sign for her commission.

Edward smiles at her politely before focusing only on me, recreating the illusion of privacy as he holds me closer.

"You're sure you like it?" he murmurs. "More than the others? I know it's not perfect..." he trails off, concern wrinkling his forehead.

I brush my fingers against his cheek. "It's more than we could ever need," I reassure. "As long as you like it, too."

"No courtyard?" he half-grins, half-pouts.

I giggle. "No courtyard. But out back, we could have a garden..." I offer, still wanting him to be happy.

Edward kisses my forehead, exuberantly turning toward Gianna with me still in his arms.

"Alright, we'll take it."

July 26, 2010

Edward

I lie with my arms supporting my head, soaking up the waning sunlight.

The brick pavement is hard against my back, but not uncomfortable enough to make me move. The trickling sound of the fountain is soothing, as are the wind-blown rose shrubs and dahlias.

Isabella especially wanted the dahlias.

I sigh and stand up, the previous peace now lost.

I walk over to our matured berry bushes, noting with concern that the small fruits are starting to dry up. I'll need to come back soon with an empty container.

I pick one of the plump berries, brushing off a speck of dried foliage. The purple-black juice stains my fingers as I hold it between them.

My stomach twinges when I pop the black raspberry into my mouth. With bothersome clarity, I realize that I must be hungry. It's not too surprising, seeing how breakfast was my most recent meal.

I make my way across the yard, to the sliding glass door that opens up to the kitchen. The only sounds in the house are my clicking shoes against the tile as I walk to the cupboards above the counter.

I open them all up, foraging on my mind. After I analyze the contents doubtfully, I finally decide on a can of Progresso soup. Opening a can... That, I can handle. But getting too adventurous won't end very well.

Since I've always been completely worthless in the kitchen, food was one of the many ways in which Isabella spoiled me.

I swallow as I pour the creamy chicken-corn-potato concoction into a pan, opting for the stove since the soup is more likely to splatter in the microwave.

I hear Sue let herself in while I'm turning on the heat. When she enters the kitchen, I glance at her and the clock briefly, my brow furrowing. She's an hour late, and she's never late.

"Did you have to run some errands?" I ask curiously, even though this doesn't seem likely. Regardless, I'm not mad.

I swirl my spoon around the pan, having the sinking feeling that I'm using the wrong utensil for teflon. Isabella was so excited about finding this set on the home shopping channel.

Sue sets her purse down on the island, making a clinking sound when the chain-link strap hits the surface.

"No, the police stopped by earlier," she answers nonchalantly. "You were outside, but they wanted to talk to me, ask me questions."

I look up from my food, alarmed. Have they found out something new?

Sue stares back with a steely expression.

"I didn't tell them, you know."

I'm taken aback by the hostility in her eyes. I don't think she's ever looked at me like that.

"Tell them what?" I ask warily...urgently.

Her wildfire stare is still blazing.

"That you treat her like a novelty, a plaything. That she's afraid to displease you. That I've spent as much time with her this month as you have."

I'm shocked into silence, but Sue is just getting started. She tucks a short strand of black hair behind her ear, her tone now more somber than angry.

"We both know that won't help us find Bella. And I love her, too."

Her voice cracks at the end, and I'm suddenly overcome by a similar tightness in my throat.

"I love her," I defend firmly, even though she's agreeing with me.

Sue's bronze eyes lighten slightly.

"I know," she concedes sympathetically. Pityingly. She picks her purse up by the strap, placing it back on her shoulder.

"But it takes more to keep a marriage. You have to work for it, too."

She turns and exits then, having said her piece.

Leaving me to my soup, my memories, and a large...very empty mansion.