The Good Neighbor - Bettes Kimberley A. - Страница 5

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4 Owen

I rang the doorbell at Carla’s house and hoped she answered quickly, leaving me no chance to change my mind. It had taken me two days to convince myself of what I’d known all along. After mulling over Jill’s words, I realized that she was right. It was time. But I still wasn’t sure I should be here. Even if this was the right time and the right thing to do, was this the right person? Maybe I should just go home and forget the whole thing.

Before I could talk myself into turning and leaving, Carla threw open the door and smiled.

“Hey. Come in,” she said happily, standing back so I could enter. After she closed the door behind me, she asked, “What’s up?”

I looked down at her and tried not to notice how sexy she looked, though she wasn’t trying. She hadn’t meant to look sexy this morning when she’d thrown on a t-shirt with faded writing, or when she’d slid into a pair of faded jean shorts. And I’m sure she’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail in a hurry, not realizing how sexy it was that some wisps of hair had fallen loose.

“I wanted to stop by and see if you needed help with anything. You know how movers can be. They throw it in the house, you move it yourself later.”

She laughed. “That’s true. They were great, though. They put everything where I told them to. I wish they’d stuck around and unpacked for me. That’s what I’ve been doing all day.” She began walking away, asking, “You want something to drink? I just made some lemonade. The kids’ favorite.”

I followed her into the kitchen, where she poured two glasses of lemonade and set them on the table. We sat and drank.

“So where are the kids?” I asked.

“They’re out back playing on the swing set. They love it here. In Dallas, we lived in an apartment, so they didn’t have a yard. Even if we had, it would’ve been too dangerous for them to be out by themselves like this. It’s nice to be able to relax and not worry so much about them. I think they like the extra freedom too. It’s all I can do to get them to come in at night.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely more relaxed here.”

Neither of said anything for a few minutes. I noticed that even without makeup, she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen.

Finally, she asked, “What do you do?”

“I own a construction business.”

“Are you on vacation or something? I mean, it’s the middle of a work day.” She smiled. “I know it’s not my business and I don’t want to be nosy...”

“No. It’s fine. I don’t go into work anymore. I used to, but I haven’t been in to the office in about a year now. If there’s anything I need to do, I do it from home.” I hadn’t been to work since Holly left. I couldn’t stand the questions or the pity that I would receive there. To change the subject and because I wanted to know, I asked, “What about you?”

“Well, in Dallas, I was a secretary. But now, Aunt Elaine left me healthy amount of money. I think I’m going to stay at home with the kids for a while. See what that’s like.” She smiled at me, and I got chills. Funny how I could get chills when my heart had been warmed. “What about the other people on this street? What do they do?” She put her elbow on the table, folded her hand into a fist, and rested her chin on it.

I leaned back in my chair. “Well, let’s see. There’s Andy and Jill. They live on this side of me. Andy’s my best friend. They’re both really great people. Jill’s a librarian, and Andy works at a factory over in the Industrial Park. His crew works swing shift.”

“Swing shift? What’s that?”

“He works two weeks on the day shift and two weeks on the night shift. It’s weird, but he likes it.”

“He’s the red-haired guy?”

“Yeah. Jill’s the short, blond. They look mismatched, but trust me when I say that they’re perfect for each other.”

“Do they have any kids?”

I shook my head. I could see the disappointment on her face. She was hoping for playmates for her children, naturally. I hadn’t realized until now that there weren’t any children on Hewitt Street.

“On my other side, is a retired chef named Louis. If you ever see him, you’ll know immediately who he is. He’s a large man. He’s not home much, though. He travels a lot, mostly abroad.” I got up and walked over to her pots and pans which were hanging above her island. I looked through them and pulled a large skillet from its hook. Holding it up to show her, I said, “This is his.”

She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to the signature across the bottom of the skillet. “This is Louis’ signature. This is from his line of cookware. He also has several cookbooks on the market.” I replaced the skillet and returned to the table.

“Wow. A famous chef lives across the street. That’s awesome.” She was very excited about this, so I didn’t want to remind her that she may never see or meet him. I enjoyed her excitement too much to dash it. She stared across the room at her stainless steel pots and pans for a while before giving me her attention again.

“Who else is there?”

“Directly across the street from Louis, is an empty house. There was an elderly couple lived there until last year. They passed away within days of each other. It’s been empty since.”

“That’s sad,” she said.

“Next to that house, right across the street from me, is Mr. Jenson. He’s a reclusive man. He looks to be in his sixties or seventies. No wife, no visitors. He keeps to himself. We don’t know much about him. He’s lived here a couple years.” I didn’t tell her about his mysterious bags. I was trying to assure her that living here was going to be great. Telling her that Jenson could be carrying bodies out of his house in a trash bags would only scare her.

“And between him and you, is Bernie Patterson. I hope you haven’t met him yet.”

“Why?” She raised her eyebrows as she asked.

“Let’s just say, Bernie’s single, and looking to not be.”

She nodded, understanding what I meant.

“He’s getting pretty desperate these days. He spends all his free time at bars, looking. I’ve seen him bring a few of those women home. It looked like he’d scraped the bottom of the barrel if you know what I mean. It wasn’t those ladies’ first time coming home with a guy they met at a bar. He seems so desperate to find someone, and so lonely. I feel bad for him.”

She took our empty glasses to the sink and rinsed them. I did what I could to not watch, but I only have so much will power. She was so attractive without even trying. And it didn’t seem that she knew how beautiful she was. I couldn’t help but wonder about the kids’ father. I didn’t know the story, but I couldn’t imagine anyone leaving someone so sweet and so beautiful and so kind.

Of course, they say you never really know someone until you live with them. And even then, you never really know them.

“So no one in the neighborhood has kids?” I could hear the disappointment in her voice.

“No. But I don’t know everybody. I just know the people immediately around me. You know, the people I see all the time. I don’t know anyone on the streets around us. I guess I’ve been a bit of a recluse myself lately.” I sure hoped she wouldn’t inquire as to why I’d become such a recluse, not even going to work.

She faced me, leaning against the sink. “So you didn’t say who lives across the street from me.”

“Oh. That’s Hazel, the sweetest lady you could ever hope to meet. She’s eighty, I think. She’s a widow.” In a voice you would use telling a campfire ghost story, I said, “If you get too close to her house, she’ll feed you. To death, if you let her.” We both laughed.

She thought for a moment. “Want a tour?”

“Sure.” I’d never been farther than the kitchen when I’d help Elaine carry in groceries.

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