Neighborly Thing

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  His mouth dropped open. “You actually think Sinda is out to get me?”

  The pathetic look on Tara’s face told him that was exactly what she thought.

  “I saw her kiss you last night.”

  Glen’s ears were burning. He didn’t see how Tara could have known they were kissing. He’d seen her go into Penny’s house. Furthermore, he and Sinda had kissed when they were standing in the hallway, in front of the door. Maybe she was only guessing. She was pretty good at that.

  Tara stared at the table, her lower lip quivering like a leaf in the wind. “Just how did you manage to see us kissing?”

  She sniffed deeply. “I was looking out Penny’s bedroom window.”

  “It was dark when you went back to the Spauldings’,” Glen reminded. “And Sinda and I were. . .” He paused and reached up to scratch the back of his head. “You were using those binoculars again, weren’t you?”

  Tara’s face turned pink.

  “How many times have I told you to stop spying on people?”

  “I wasn’t exactly spying,” she defended. “I was looking outside. The binoculars just picked you up through that little window in Sinda’s front door.”

  “First, you need to give those binoculars to me until you show yourself trustworthy and ready to respect others’ privacy. Second, for the record, Sinda did not kiss me. It was the other way around.”

  Tara jumped out of her seat, nearly knocking the chair over. “Dad, how could you do such a thing? You hardly even know her!”

  “I know her well enough to realize I enjoy her company.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s no big deal. It was just an innocent good night kiss.” One that shouldn’t have happened, his conscience reminded. Sinda refused your invitation to church, and you still don’t know if she’s ever had a personal relationship with Christ.

  “She’s got you hypnotized!”

  “Don’t start that again, Tara. I’m in perfect control of my faculties.” But even as he spoke the words Glen wondered if they were true. Not that he believed he’d actually been hypnotized by Sinda’s green eyes. But there was something about the woman that held him captive. Whenever he was with Sinda he had a strange sense of some kind of mystery awaiting him. It was exciting and troubling at the same time.

  “The Bible tells us to love our neighbors as ourselves, and I’ve invited Sinda to come for Sunday dinner again,” he said with authority. “She’s graciously accepted, and you will be gracious to our dinner guest. Is that clear?”

  Tara hung her head. “Yeah, I understand. I wish you did.”

  ❧

  Sinda sat at her kitchen table, toying with the piece of salmon on her plate. She loved fish, especially salmon. Tonight she had no appetite, though. She hadn’t been able to reach Alex Masters by phone today, and she had mixed feelings about it. Since this was Saturday, her lawyer obviously wasn’t in his office, but she’d also gotten his answering machine at home. Even though she wasn’t thrilled about the prospect of opening the trunk, there was a part of her that wanted to see what was inside. If it was her mother’s trunk, maybe there was something within the contents that could help heal some of her pain.

  Resigned to the fact that she’d have to wait until next week to call Alex again, Sinda let her thoughts carry her in another direction. Against her better judgment she had accepted another dinner invitation from Glen. She felt apprehensive about going—especially since she knew better than to allow herself to get close to a man.

  Sinda thought about how Glen had spent most of the day working on her house. He’d replaced rotten boards on the front porch steps, repaired a broken railing, and helped her strip the torn wallpaper in the dining room. Then, shortly before he left, he had extended the dinner invitation. Sinda had been so appreciative of all this work that she’d accepted without even thinking.

  What kind of power does that man hold over me? she fumed. I should know better than to let my guard down because Glen seems kind and is easy to talk to. By his actions he appears to be nice, but is he all he claims to be?

  Sirens in the distance drove Sinda’s thoughts unwillingly back to the past. Whenever she heard that shrill whine she remembered the frightening night when the police showed up at their door, demanding to know if someone had been injured. Sinda had heard one of the police officers say they’d had a report from a neighbor about hearing loud voices coming from the Shulls’ home. Dad was able to convince the officer that everything was fine, and the shouting the neighbor heard was probably just the TV turned up too loud. Sinda remembered hearing her parents hollering at each other that night. Of course, that had been a regular occurrence, even though her mother always assured her there was nothing to worry about.

  As the sound of the sirens diminished, so did Sinda’s thoughts from the past. She jabbed at the fish on her plate and exclaimed, “I’ll go to dinner tomorrow because I promised, but after that I won’t accept any more social invitations from Glen!”

  Eleven

  As Sinda rang the Olsens’ doorbell the following day, she noticed that she felt a bit more relaxed than she had the previous time she’d come to dinner. Not only did she know Glen and Tara better, but she had a sense of peace about her decision last night. She would try to be a good neighbor, but nothing more.

  When Tara opened the front door, the distinctive aroma of oregano assaulted Sinda’s senses, and she sniffed the air. “Something smells good.”

  “Dad’s fixing spaghetti.”

  “I love most any kind of pasta dish.” Sinda stepped inside, even though she hadn’t been invited.

  Tara gave her an icy stare, but she led the way to the kitchen without another word. When Glen turned from the stove and offered her a warm smile, Sinda squeezed her lips together to keep her mouth from falling open. How could any man look so good or so masculine when he was wearing an oversized apron and holding a wooden spoon in one hand?

  “You’re right on time. Dinner’s almost ready, and I thought we’d eat in here.” Glen nodded toward the kitchen table, which had already been set.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Sinda asked hopefully. Anything would be better than standing here like a ninny, gawking at Glen and wishing. . . What was she wishing for anyway?

  Using his spoon, Glen motioned toward the table. “Have a seat, and we can talk while I finish dishing things up.” He glanced at Tara, who was leaning against the cupboard with her arms folded across her chest. “Honey, would you please fill the glasses with water?”

  The child did as he requested, but Sinda could tell by Tara’s deep sigh and slow movements that she was not happy about it.

  “Your kitchen looks so clean and orderly.” Sinda laughed self-consciously. “I love to cook, but you should see my kitchen clutter after I’m done with a meal. It looks like a tornado blew in from the east.”

  Glen chuckled. “I wasn’t always this efficient. I’ve had lots of practice, and lots of help from Tara, which is probably why I appear so capable.”

  Sinda toyed with the fork lying beside her plate. “I’ve been cooking since I was a young girl, and I still make messes. I guess some people tend to be neater than others.”

  Tara came to Sinda’s water glass, and Sinda quickly moved to one side, barely in time to avoid being caught in the dribbles that weren’t quite making it into her glass. “Sorry about that,” the child mumbled.

  “Tara, why don’t you go out to the living room until dinner is served?”

  “There’s nothing to do out there,” the child moaned. “I can’t watch TV, and—”

  “Read a book or play with Jake. Sinda and I want to visit.”

  Tara stomped out of the room, and Glen turned to face Sinda. “Returning to our discussion about your cooking abilities—I thought the breakfast you fixed yesterday tasted great, and I never even looked at your kitchen clutter.”

  Sinda grimaced. “That meal wasn’t much to write home about.”

  “Maybe you’d like the chance to cook a real meal f
or me. Then I can judge for myself how well you cook.” Glen winked at her. “And I promise not to critique your cleaning skills.”

  Sinda felt her face flame as she sat there silently watching his nimble fingers drop angel-hair pasta into the pot of boiling water on the stove. When he finished, he looked her way again. “Guess a guy shouldn’t go around inviting himself to dinner, huh?”

  “It’s not that,” Sinda was quick to say. “It’s just—I’ve been thinking maybe we might be seeing too much of each other.”

  “I enjoy your company, and I kind of hoped you liked being with me. After all, we both like to cook, love to go to yard sales and thrift stores, and even enjoy the same kind of relaxing music.” A deep, crescent-shaped dimple sprang out on the right side of Glen’s mouth as he smiled. Funny, she’d never noticed it before.

  Sinda’s face grew even warmer. “I do enjoy being with you, Glen, but—”

  “Then let’s get better acquainted.”

  Sinda could feel her resolve fly right out the window, and she swallowed hard. Glen was right; they did have a few things in common. “Maybe we can try dinner at my house next Sunday. Tara’s invited too, of course,” she added quickly.

  “Sounds great, and the invitation to attend church with us is still open if you’re interested.”

  Sinda’s heart began to race, and she wasn’t sure if it was Glen’s smile or the mention of church. “I think it would be best to stick with dinner,” she said, feeling as though she couldn’t quite get her breath.

  “I was hoping you might have changed your mind about going to church.”

  Sinda reached for her glass and took a sip of water before she answered. “I went to church every Sunday with my dad.”

  “Did you ever commit your life to Christ?”

  She nodded slowly. “When I was ten years old and went to Bible school, I accepted Jesus as my Savior.” Was that a look of relief she saw on Glen’s face?

  “That’s great, and it gives us one more thing in common.” He frowned slightly. “So, if you’re a Christian, how come you’re not interested in finding a church home?”

  Sinda licked her lips, searching for the right words. How could she tell Glen, a man she was just getting to know, what had happened to her faith in God? “I—uh—could we please change the subject?”

  Glen nodded and began to drain the spaghetti into the strainer he’d placed in the sink. “Is there anything you’d like me to bring to dinner next Sunday. . .maybe some dessert?”

  You are dessert, Glen Olsen. It’s just too bad I’m on a diet, Sinda thought as she shrugged her shoulders. “Some dessert would be nice.”

  ❧

  The following week, Sinda became even more fretful than usual. It wasn’t until Thursday when she finally heard from her lawyer. Then it was only to say that he’d been on vacation when she’d called. When Sinda questioned him about the trunk, he informed her that it had been in storage for several years. Though not mentioned in the will, it was her father’s verbal request that she should have it after he died. Alex had forgotten all about the trunk until a bill arrived from the storage company a few weeks ago. When she asked him about the key, he said he hadn’t been given one.

  Wondering if she should break the lock or keep looking for a key that might fit, Sinda decided to do nothing for the time being. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to see the contents of the trunk, so maybe more time was what she needed.

  Another reason for Sinda’s stress was Tara Olsen. The child’s most recent act of disobedience had extended her time working in Sinda’s doll hospital to another four weeks. While Sinda did appreciate the extra help, having Tara around seemed to add to her problems. She had to be extra careful not to let the girl see the antique doll Glen had asked her to repair. She’d have to do those restorations whenever Tara wasn’t around. The sullen child was also sneaking around, nosing into places that were none of her business. Sinda had no idea what the would-be detective was looking for, but it irritated her, nonetheless.

  Today was Saturday, and Tara was in the basement, cleaning the body of an ink-stained vinyl doll. Glen was up on the second floor, working in the bathroom, and Sinda was in the kitchen, making a pitcher of iced tea. She could hear him moving around overhead—a thump here—the piercing whine of a drill there. She could only imagine how he must look right now, bent over the sink, tools in hand, trying to make it usable.

  Sinda placed the tea in the refrigerator and opened the basement door. She had to check on Tara and quit thinking about Glen Olsen!

  When she entered the doll hospital a few minutes later, Sinda found Tara scrubbing the stomach of the vinyl doll with diluted bleach and a toothbrush, an effective treatment for ink stains.

  “How’s it going?” Sinda asked, peering over the child’s shoulder.

  Tara shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Have you heard any more strange noises down here?”

  “Not today, but I still think this old house is creepy. Aren’t you afraid to live here alone?”

  Sinda shook her head. Even if she were a bit apprehensive at times, she’d never admit it to Tara. She sat down in the chair on the other side of the table. “I have Sparky for protection, so there’s no reason to be afraid.”

  Tara lifted her gaze to the ceiling. “You’d never catch me living in a place like this.”

  “Maybe when your dad’s finished with the critical repairs it will look less creepy.”

  Tara’s head lurched forward as she let out a reverberating sneeze.

  Sinda felt immediate concern. “Is that bleach smell getting to you?”

  Tara sneezed again. “I think it is.”

  “Why don’t you set it aside and work on something else?” Sinda placed the doll on a shelf and handed Tara another one. “This little lady needs her hair washed and combed.” She gave the child a bottle of dry shampoo, used expressly for wigs. “You can work on it while I run upstairs and tend to a few things. I’ll call you in about fifteen minutes, then we can have a snack. How’s that sound?”

  “Whatever,” Tara mumbled.

  ❧

  Glen leaned over the antiquated bathroom sink, wondering if he’d be able to fix the continual drip, drop, drip. From the looks of the nasty green stain, it had been leaking quite awhile. In a house this old, where little or no repairs had been done, Glen figured he’d be helping out for a good many weeks. He smiled to himself. It would mean more time spent with Sinda. Maybe he’d be able to find out what was bothering her, and why, if she was a Christian, she had no interest in church.

  “Dad! Dad!” Tara rounded the corner of the bathroom and skidded to a stop next to him.

  Glen knew right away that something was wrong—Tara’s eyes were huge, and he felt her tremble as she clung to him. “What’s wrong, Honey? You scared me half to death, screaming like that.”

  “You’re scared?” she sobbed. “Go to that spooky basement by yourself, then you’ll be scared!”

  Glen pulled away slightly, so he could get a better look at her face. “What are you talking about?”

  “Strange noises! Moving doll parts! I’m telling you, Dad, this house has to be haunted!”

  Glen gave Tara’s shoulders a gentle shake. “Take a deep breath and calm down.”

  “I heard a noise! A doll leg jumped out of a box! This place is creepy, and I want to go home.” Tara’s voice was pleading, and she squeezed Glen around the waist with a strength that surprised him. He wasn’t sure how to deal with her hysteria and wondered if she might even be making the story up just to get him away from Sinda. He gritted his teeth. If this is a ploy, she’s not going to get away with it.

  ❧

  Sinda entered the bathroom, but stopped short when she saw Tara clinging to her father. “I thought you were in the basement, Tara.”

  “She heard a noise.” Glen shrugged his shoulders and looked at Sinda with a helpless expression. “She thinks your house is haunted.”

  Tara seemed close to tears,
and Sinda felt sorry for her. She was about to ask for an explanation, when Tara blurted, “A doll leg jumped right out of a box! I saw it with my own eyes.”

  Glen held up his hands. “What can I say?”

  “I think I can take care of this little problem.” Sinda started for the door.

  “You’re not going down there, are you?” Tara cried.

  “Yes, I am. Me and Panther.”

  “Panther?” Glen and Tara said in unison.

  “Panther’s my new cat,” Sinda explained as she started down the stairs.

  Glen and Tara were right behind her. “I never knew you had a cat,” Tara said. “You’ve got a dog, and cats and dogs don’t usually get along.”

  Sinda nodded but kept descending the stairs. “You’re right. Sparky’s not the least bit fond of Panther, and I’m quite sure the cat returns his feelings. I try to keep them separated as much as possible.” By now they were in the hallway, and Sinda began calling, “Here, kitty, kitty!”

  “When did you get a cat?” Glen asked, moving toward Sinda.

  “A few days ago. One of my customers is moving. She can’t take Panther along, so I adopted him.” She drew in a deep breath. “Since I’m having some trouble, I thought having a cat might be a good idea.”

  Glen slipped his arm around Sinda’s waist, and she found the gesture comforting yet a bit disarming. “Trouble? What kind of trouble are you having?”

  “I’ll explain it all later,” she said, moving away from Glen. “Right now I need to find that cat.” Sinda stepped into the living room and called, “Panther! Come, kitty, kitty!”

  Glen turned to Tara. “You’re good with cats. Why don’t you see if you can help?”

  Tara shook her head and gave him an imploring look. “We need to get out of this house!”

  “Tara Mae Olsen, would you quit being so melodramatic? Sinda needs our help, and it’s the neighborly thing—”

  Tara shook her head. “I just want to go home.”

  “We’ll go as soon as we’ve helped Sinda solve her problem.”

  Sinda offered Glen a grateful smile. How could the man be so helpful and kind? Was it all an act, or did Glen Olsen really want to help?