Sisterchicks in Wooden Shoes! Read Online Free PDF Page B

diet?
    Noelle confidently lifted her chin. “Don’t worry. A week is all I need. I told you. The Dutch are very efficient.”

N oelle’s home felt familiar from the moment we drove up to it. Much of what met my eye was as I had imagined. I had seen photos over the years, with the inside and outside of the house as the background.
    Many of the same distinctives I had noticed about the other Dutch homes appeared in Noelle’s as well. Even though her house was only thirty-five years old, the flat front of the house led straight up to a pointed roof like the traditional houses we had seen on our drive. The front entry was a patio of pavers with flowers and a small tree, all growing in deep Mediterranean blue garden pots.
    “We gave up trying to bother with grass out here,” Noelle said. “This part of the house rarely sees sunlight. I’ve had good success, though, with a few shade-loving plants. In the summer it’s nice and cool out here.”
    We entered, and I realized how efficiently the small space was used. Four steps in, and we were standing by a stylish black leather couch that framed the seating area in the living room. To the rightwas the staircase, and to the far left was an entire wall covered by built-in bookcases and a customized space where a flat-screen TV was flanked by small speakers.
    “My son Michael would love what you did with that wall,” I said. “He and his wife have been trying to do something similar in their apartment but without anything being built in. The shelves are eating up their floor space.”
    “We added all that,” Noelle said. “And we redesigned the kitchen. Come.”
    I let go of my luggage and followed her a few steps past the couch where the room made a T. On the left was a round dining room table with a bouquet of red tulips fully in bloom. To the right was a modern-looking but very small kitchen with all stainless-steel appliances.
    “It’s just the right size for us now,” Noelle said. “All the years while the girls were growing up, it was so small. You could barely have two people in the kitchen at one time.”
    I couldn’t imagine the kitchen any smaller. Even with the modern upgrades, the built-in appliances appeared narrower than what we have in the U.S.
    “It’s impressive,” I said truthfully. The space looked well used, and the shine from the stainless steel reflected cleanly the focused, canned, overhead lights. The kitchen looked as if it could be an advertisement in a magazine.
    “Are you ready to see your room? It’s on the second floor. We converted the attic into a third floor, and that became our bedroom. I’ll show you that too.”
    The three stories were traversed by a set of stairs. I had seenthis sort of metal, spiraling stairs in movies or in pictures but never in a home. There was no railing. Only the series of narrow metal plates that were open to the front to accommodate feet that were too long to fit on just the step. Feet like mine. Although, when I took the fifth or sixth step, I realized only a child’s small feet would fit on such small stair plates.
    Noelle was carrying my suitcase, which was a good thing. I’m afraid I would have had a terrible time trying to navigate the narrow steps, the spiral direction we were heading, and a bulky suitcase. Noelle hoisted it ahead of her with little difficulty. She seemed much stronger than I was. But then, if I lived in a three-story house instead of a one-story bungalow, I might have developed some impressive strength from all the hauling up and down.
    After one complete spiral turn of the metal stairs, we were on the second floor. A square area anchored four closed doors. Noelle opened the one at the opposite end.
    “This is the bathroom. I put clean towels on your bed. I’ll be sure to give you some instructions before you run the water in the tub or shower. It’s different than what you’re used to, but I don’t think you’ll be too confused.”
    Turning to the closed door on my