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Rated: GC · Novel · Drama · #1471296
Freedom comes with a price. Isabella's price was her father's death.
    "That's everything, miss." The truck driver said.
    "Ok, great. Thank you both so much." Bella said as she handed some money to the two men.
    "Thank you. Have a good day." The second man said.
    "You too." Then she watched as the two men got in the truck and drove away.
    Once the truck was out of sight Bella turned to look at her new home. After a minute she went inside to start the tedious chore of unpacking and settling in. Once inside, she shut and locked the door, out of habit more than saftey, then opened some windows and the slider that led onto her back deck, to allow the breeze from the water to flow through her house and maybe cool it down some.
She found her fan and placed it by the open door in hopes to help the breeze. Satisfied that she had done what she could to circulate the air she looked around at all the boxes.
    She started in the kitchen. Meticulously opening each box, unwrapping the plates and glasses and putting them in the dishwasher. Then she unpacked the silverware, scarce as it may be, and loaded them in with the plates. She put the pot, lid, three pans and cookie sheet in the sink. Then she put her appliances, a microwave, coffee pot and a blender, in there spots on the counter. She broke down the boxes and threw away the old news paper she used to wrap everything.
    "Well, that only took, an hour." She said to herself as she looked at her watch. She went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water from the few that she had stopped to get at the convienience store on her way into town. Along with the two bags of chips, a jar of salsa, the six pack of Sam Adam's Summer beer and the small container of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food ice cream.
    Drinking the water she headed into the living room. She had a couch, her father's overstuffed armchair, her mother's mother's hand-made wooden coffee table that her mother's father had made for her as their first wedding present. Bella found her stereo and placed it in the spot that the television would go, when she bought one. She plugged it in, found a station that she might like and got to work unpacking the boxes. Family photo's of her with her parents, photo's of her parents, photo's of each of her grandparents. She set them all aside, they were going to be hung up, but she didn't have a hammer. The pictures of her graduating from high school and college she placed on the mantle above the fireplace, only because her father was in both. And the one of her at the beach when she was little she placed there too, because it was the only picture she had of her and her mother. The crystal vase that had belonged to her mother she placed on the coffee table. After cleaning up the empty boxes and trash she moved into the next room. In the dinning room was her parents polished mahogany table and six chairs, along with the matching china cabinet. She unwrapped the china sets and placed them behind the glass. Then headed upstairs.
    The only room that needed to be set was her bedroom. She had the mover's place the kingsize bed in the middle of the room with the headboard against the wall. On either side of the bed she placed to two darkwood side tables, with a lamp on each. Her mother's dresser was on the opposite wall, the full-length mirror was beside it. The hand-carved hope chest was placed at the foot of the bed. In here, the only stuff to unpack was her clothes. She hung everything up in the walk-in closet, her shoes were hung on the back of the door. Anything that she didn't or couldn't hang up went into the dresser.
    Happy to have everything unpacked and cleaned and put away she consulted her watch. It had taken four and a half hours to unpack her few belongings and clean up the packing materials. "That's just slightly pathetic." she said to herself as she headed downstairs. She went into the kitchen, shut and locked the slider door, then found her bag and her car keys and headed out to do some food shopping.
© Copyright 2008 Celena Marie (pirate84 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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