Dove
"Wow," Stella breathed.
Caroline stayed by the door. "The owner is an art collector."
I ran my hand over the back of the red chair. Velvet. "I could put sketches here," I said, mostly to myself. "Fabric swatches. Mess it up." No one said 'Danilo'.
The main living room was down a short hall and the ceiling opened up. Gold. Not gaudy gold. Soft, curved, glowing gold that reflected the light from the floor to ceiling windows. A huge sectional in cream. Two yellow chairs, a fireplace, ceramics on the tables, vases that looked handmade and the view… The whole city.
It was quiet. Calm. Expensive quiet, but not the kind that made you afraid to sit down.
I stood in the middle of it and felt something crack in my chest. This wasn't a showroom. This was a home.
I was more eager to see the kitchen. Then when I did see it my knees almost gave out.
