Covet thy Neighbor

by Denise Carbo

  I’ll enforce the rules next time. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I’m not up to the hassle. I put the plates and glasses in the dishwasher and putter around the kitchen, wiping down the counters and cleaning out the fire hazard pile of crumbs in the toaster. Burnt bread assails my nose.

  Twenty minutes later, there is still no sign of Ryan. I check my phone in case I missed a call or text telling me he would be late. Nope, nothing.

  I dial his number only to have it go straight to voicemail. “Hi Ryan. I’m just wondering where you are since you were supposed to pick up the boys a half hour ago. Call me.”

  It’s not the first time he’s been late, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. He would’ve called if he had to cancel altogether.

  Scrolling through my emails, I stop on one for a local community college. I subscribed a couple years ago, thinking I might take classes. For what subject I have no idea, which is why I probably never followed through.

  I should take a class or two. It might get me out of this rut I am sliding into. I pull up the course offerings and scan over them. Business courses are the predominate listings. I wrinkle my nose at the Accounting course. Math wasn’t a hardship but sitting around crunching numbers doesn’t excite me in the least. Economics isn’t drumming up any interest either. Marketing or Management don’t sound too bad.

  Franny has me participating more in the baking. Would helping with management or marketing be an option down the road? It’s not like I have ambitions to start my own business.

  I love working at The Sweet Spot and would hate to leave, but I need to think of the future. Part-time income and child support are barely enough to get by. If my mom didn’t help out with the childcare, I would be in serious trouble.

  Most of the courses are online, which means I can do them on my schedule.

  The front door opens and Ryan walks in.

  I glance at the time. He’s almost an hour late. And he didn’t knock…again.

  He spots me at the table. “They ready?”

  “You’re late. And could you please knock?” Next time, I will lock the door so he has no other option.

  Ryan shrugs. “What’s the big deal? You got plans or something?” He doesn’t wait for an answer but looks up the stairs. “They up there? Tim, Tom, let’s go!”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  “A date?” He frowns and stares at me.

  “Yes.” He didn’t need to know it was with Franny and Lucinda.

  “With whom?”

  “That’s not any of your business, is it?”

  “What’s got you so uptight today? Is it that time of the month or something?”

  I breathe deep and count to ten. The boys come racing down the stairs.

  “Hi Dad!”

  He ruffles the boys’ hair as they shoulder on their backpacks.

  “Come say goodbye, boys.”

  They both walk over and give me a hug on either side. “Bye, Mom.”

  I kiss them both on the head. “I love you. Be good for your father.”

  “We will. Love you.”

  “Love you.”

  They walk out the door while Ryan holds it open. He looks back. His gaze wanders over me. “Have fun on your date.” There’s a slight smirk on his face.

  I glare at him until he chuckles and leaves.

  I know what he’s thinking. There’s no way I’m going on a date dressed in a T-shirt sporting the logo for a restaurant chain and a pair of spandex shorts.

  They’re comfortable, damn it.

  Why didn’t I change?

  Because I pulled them on this morning while getting the boys ready. I didn’t think he’d be an inconsiderate hour late. I’ll change before my shift at the bakery.

  Besides, I shouldn’t have to dress up for Ryan. At least, not anymore. There was a time when I made an effort to put on makeup and nice clothes, mostly when we had a date night planned.

  What does he know? I could be going out on a date after work. After I get all spruced up.

  “Ugh.” I drop my head onto the table and close my eyes.

  Whom am I kidding? I haven’t been on a date since…well, let’s just say awhile. It’s not like I haven’t dated at all since the divorce. I have, just nowhere near the amount Ryan has. And that’s only the ones I know of.

  I have dated. There was Ken. We went on a handful of uneventful dates before he stopped calling, and I never considered calling him because there was no spark. Then there was Paul—dodged a bullet on that one. We went on one date. He never stopped complaining or berating the server until finally she ran off in tears. I left after apologizing to her. My cousin told me he got arrested for assault outside of Finnegan’s bar a few months later. Michael was the last. Again, only one date. I thought we had a fun time. We laughed at the same jokes. But he never called. I considered calling him, but I chickened out which turned out to be a good thing because I ran into him and his ex a month later. Apparently, they had reconciled. Hopefully dating me didn’t drive him to it.

  That’s it, the sum total of three years of single life. Three men.

  I bang my head on the table. I need to get out more.

  There’s a knock on the front door. I raise my head. Did the boys forget something? They wouldn’t knock. Ryan might to prove a point.

  Rolling my eyes, I get up. Great, and now he’ll make a comment pointing out how ridiculous it is for him to knock and make me come answer the door when he could have simply opened it and saved us both time.

  I swing open the door.

  It’s not Ryan.

  Luke Hollister stands on my doorstep.

  I blink several times, hoping he’ll disappear. Nope, still there.

  “I think this is yours.”

  He holds out the plate I gave him cookies on—like three months ago.

  “Umm…yeah, thanks.” I take the plate.

  “Listen, about the other day. It was a crappy day and then I fell off the stupid ladder, making it even worse. Then you showed up and I took my frustration out on you. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

  He holds out his hand. “I’m Luke, by the way, Luke Hollister.”

  Okay…no need to tell him I know his name because I looked it up when he moved in. “Olivia Banner.” I shake his hand once and snatch back my hand, hiding it behind my back just in case he has any plans to grab hold of it again and drag me back to his house and chop me up into a million pieces.

  “So, we’re good?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure.” I’ll be watching every move you make, buddy. Take one suspicious move towards my boys and I’ll be the one chopping you up into a million pieces.

  He gives me a half wave before turning and walking away. I shut and lock the door before tiptoeing over to the kitchen window. I stand to the side so I can peek out without him spotting me if he suddenly turns around.

  He disappears inside his house. I wander over to the counter and drum my fingers on the top. Perhaps my overactive imagination needs a rest. I should focus on my future. Like those classes. I can swing the cost—barely. Besides, if it doesn’t work out, it’s not the end of the world. I can try something else the next semester. The deadline is this week.

  I whip out my phone and submit the application before I can change my mind.

  There, a positive action. I sag against the counter. I’m going back to school.

  I tilt my head back and stare at the ceiling. It could be one of the best decisions I’ve made or the worst, only time will tell, so there’s no point in dwelling on it.

  My neighbor made the effort to extend an olive branch of sorts. He didn’t exactly apologize, but it was something. We’re neighbors, after all. I should probably give him the benefit of the doubt. The odds are against him actually being a serial killer. There must be a rational explanation.

  Next time I spot him in his yard I’ll casually walk over, in full view of witnesses just to be safe, and ask him why he has a stash of weapons. Of course, what’s h
e going to say? I murder people in my spare time?

  Chapter 4

  “We’ve got wine and sweets, now all we need is the gossip. So dish Olivia, what’s going on with your neighbor?” Lucinda pours herself and me a glass of white wine while Franny unscrews the cap of her iced tea.

  “I’m so glad we’re doing this. We need to make it a regular thing. Next week, it’ll be at my and Mitch’s house.” Franny grins. “Gosh, I love saying that!”

  “When do you officially move in?” I take a sip of my wine and sink back against the cushion.

  “Monday, when the bakery is closed. I don’t have much to move, really. I never got around to decorating the apartment. I can’t wait to decorate the house, though.”

  “Not to worry, I’ll be decorating the apartment.” Lucinda winks at us.

  “You must be looking forward to moving too.”

  “Most definitely.”

  “Luce, I appreciate you insisting I have time alone in the apartment. I still feel a tad guilty you stayed at our parents’ house instead of moving in with me.”

  Lucinda waves a hand in front of her. “Don’t be silly. You needed time. I wasn’t going to be so selfish and hone in on your first apartment. Anyway, I had no desire to be a third wheel for you and Mitch.” She sips her wine and smiles. “I am delighted you’re moving out so soon, though.”

  Franny chuckles and blows her sister a kiss. “So, it’s settled then? Next week at my house?”

  I raise my glass. “I’m in.”

  “Me too.” Lucinda leans forward and clinks her glass against mine, and Franny joins in with her bottle.

  “It’s official then.” Franny clears her throat. “One more thing I’d like to mention before we focus on Olivia’s mysterious neighbor.” She glances back and forth between Lucinda and I. “Luce, I’d like you to be my maid of honor, or matron of honor, or whatever you call it.”

  Lucinda squeals and jumps up from her chair. “Oh, I was hoping and hoping you would ask!” She hugs Franny and rocks her back and forth. “I’m so happy for you, Sis, and I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle.”

  Franny turns to me. “Olivia, would you be one of my bridesmaids?”

  My mouth drops open and a surge of delight rockets through me. “Absolutely! One hundred percent yes.” I stand and give Franny a hug.

  “Oh, I’m so happy!” Lucinda joins in the group hug. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

  Franny laughs. “I admit I’m starting to get into this whole wedding thing.”

  Lucinda raises her hand. “I solemnly swear to keep it fun and not drive you crazy.”

  “Don’t worry, I promise not to become a bridezilla on you guys.”

  I sit back down in my chair. “No worries there. I can’t see you ever turning into one of those.”

  “Mother, on the other hand, will take care of the zilla role. Should we call her Momzilla or MOBzilla?” Lucinda tilts her head to the side and purses her lips.

  The yellow cushions on the chair frame Lucinda like a photograph. She looks like a model dressed in a white formfitting dress with cap sleeves. I glance down at my own white shorts and lavender T-shirt. A little more effort in my appearance might be in order.

  I dress like a mom. Comfort first. Any sense of style is a distant—distant second.

  Franny smirks. “I pick the first. It applies to so much more than just the wedding.”

  “Did she help you plan your wedding, Lucinda?”

  Franny chokes on the iced tea in the middle of taking a drink.

  I wince. “Did I say something wrong?” I bite my lip and look at Lucinda. She’s going through a divorce and might not be ready to reminisce over her wedding. Way to go, Olivia. “I’m sorry.”

  Lucinda waves her hand. “Don’t be silly. My mother planned my entire wedding pretty much single handedly. She hired a wedding planner, but she was only there to do my mother’s bidding.”

  “Didn’t you have a say?”

  Lucinda sighs. “I have always had the nasty habit of letting my mother do what she wants rather than contradict her. It was easier. I’m trying to stand up to her more, like Franny does.”

  “That’s a newfound courage for me. I usually just avoided her.”

  Franny tilts her bottle towards me. “What about you? What was your wedding to Ryan like?”

  I glance up at the underside of the yellow and white striped umbrella over the table. “It was small and quick. We got married in my parents’ backyard with just family there. We were so young in so many ways. I think we were both a bit in shock too from finding out not only was I pregnant, but that we were having twins. It’s all a bit of a blur.”

  Lucinda nods. “I was so worried about everything going smoothly at mine, I never really enjoyed it.”

  “That’s why I want mine small.” Franny pulls her feet up onto the chair and hugs her knees to her chest. “I don’t want to worry about talking to strangers or if anything will go wrong. I want to celebrate with those we love.”

  “As your maid of honor, I promise to keep mother in check and make sure it stays the wedding you want, not what she desires.”

  “On that note…” I lean forward and open the box Franny brought from the bakery. “I think it’s time to cut into this gorgeous cake. A celebratory slice or two to mark this joyous occasion.”

  “Good idea.” Franny hands out forks and napkins while I slice into the ivory buttercream with purple and lavender violets. The lemon from the cake wafts up and I inhale deeply.

  “A small slice for me.” Lucinda tops off her glass of wine. “I’ve been spending too much time at the bakery lately and each time I do, I nibble on something.”

  “Tell me about it. I have to exercise extreme will power not to bring something home with me every day.” I hand Franny the first slice. “What’s your secret Franny? I rarely see you sampling your own wares at the bakery.”

  “That’s because I have to sample little bits here and there all day while I’m baking to make sure the recipe is correct. Believe me, I get plenty of sugar.”

  Lucinda takes a small bite of the cake after I cut her a slice. “Oh my God! This is so good. I’m going to gain a ton of weight living over the bakery.”

  Franny and I laugh.

  I take a bite of the delicate cake and the tangy lemon and sweet frosting explode over my taste buds. I close my eyes and groan. “This really is spectacular.”

  “I’m glad I chose this one then. Not everyone likes lemon.”

  “Then they’re crazy.” I shovel another piece in my mouth. “I need to add a mile or two to my run in the morning because I know I’m going to end up with another slice of cake before the night is over.”

  “You run?” Lucinda scrapes the last smear of frosting off her plate and licks the fork clean.

  I nod in between bites.

  Franny frowns down at her plate. “I wish I had the coordination and discipline to run. Athletics aren’t my area of expertise.”

  I sit back and cross my legs. “For me it’s more of a stress relief. I blast my music in my ears and let the rhythm of the run and the music melt away my worries. I get a little cranky if I don’t get my morning runs in.” I rest my hands on my belly.

  “Now that I live right over the bakery, I haven’t been walking to and from work every day so I can’t even count that exercise. Once I move into the house, it won’t be feasible to walk to work either. I need to come up with something else.”

  “So do I. I used to go to the gym back in Connecticut, but I haven’t even checked into one here. Is there one in Granite Cove?”

  “Yes, it’s in the plaza across the street from the bakery. On the backside. You can’t get any more convenient than that, Luce. Once you move in, you can walk across the street.”

  “I won’t have any excuses then, will I?”

  Chuckling, I reach for my glass of wine.

  “All right Olivia, it’s your turn. What’s with the neighbor?” Franny jerks her head
toward the colonial.

  “He stopped by this morning.”

  Both Franny’s bottle and Lucinda’s glass hit the table. They pin their gazes on me and when I don’t immediately elaborate, they chorus, “And?”

  I grin. “What?”

  Lucinda scoots her chair in and rests her arms on the table while Franny drums her fingers on the table.

  “Nothing really. He returned my plate from when he moved in and I brought him cookies and introduced himself. Said he didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot.”

  “Did you ask him about the weapons stash?”

  I glance at Franny and shake my head. “I was so surprised to find him standing on my doorstep, all I wanted to do was get rid of him.”

  “Good. I don’t think blurting out that you saw the weapons is the best idea. At least not alone. Not until you know more details and history.” Lucinda sucks in a breath and sits up straight. “I know. I can help you. We’ll be our own private investigators.”

  “Oh boy!” Franny holds a hand over her eyes.

  “What?” Lucinda frowns.

  Franny peeks through her fingers. “This has disaster written all over it.”

  Chapter 5

  “Mom, watch this!”

  Tommy pumps his legs on the swing to go higher and higher. The playscape groans and shakes. Timmy sits atop the yellow slide watching his brother.

  “Careful. Not so high, honey.”

  He soars up high and then flings himself backwards. The bottom drops out of my stomach and I jump to my feet.

  He completes a backward somersault and lands on his feet.

  I grip the deck railing and sink back onto the steps. My legs wobble. It’s as if they’ve become two strands of cooked spaghetti and are no longer capable of supporting my weight.

  Tommy swings a fist in front of him. “Yes—nailed it!”

  Timmy claps.

  Once my organs settle back into place and I find my voice, I say a silent prayer of thankfulness he is okay.

  How to warn him never to do that kind of stunt again and not shatter his enthusiasm for his accomplishment at the same time?