by Steve Richer
“It’s a good thing my life doesn’t depend on it then, uh?”
Libbie turned to a cabinet just outside the living room. It was filled with at least three dozen figurines of all shapes and sizes and materials, from tin to plastic, to crystal.
“And I see that you’re into… action figures.”
“You can say figurines,” Tom conceded. “It’s my thing. No, I’m not a Star Wars nerd.”
“So he says,” Alice stage-whispered.
“Boba Fett is a cultural touchstone, thank you very much. Seriously, I’ve been collecting small, offbeat figurines for years. It’s fun.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “It’s fine until you have to dust them.”
Libbie smiled. “The two of you look happy together. It’s nice to see. That’s getting rarer and rarer these days.”
Alice was afraid her husband would make a glib comment just to be funny, something like “We pretend to be happy when we have people over,” but he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
She was about to speak when a shrill alarm went off. It was her phone, except not the regular ringtone.
“Is everything all right?” Libbie asked.
“Yes,” Alice replied, turning off the alarm and checking her watch at the same time. “Sorry about that. Just a reminder about my insulin.”
“Oh, you’re diabetic? Do you need to…”
Alice waved the comment away. “It can wait. I’m sure you’re eager to see the apartment.”
“I am.”
“Follow me, ladies!” Tom said.
The three of them went outside and walked down the porch. The house was a two-story ranch, though it had been somewhat modified from the original style. It had been built high enough so that the basement had small windows. It was covered with blue gray clapboard.
“The entrance to your place is here on the side.”
They rounded an arborvitae bush and walked into the rather spacious backyard. Concrete steps dug into the ground, leading to a basement door. Tom led the way and unlocked the door. He flipped on the light switch.
“This is it!”
Libbie looked around, spinning on her heels. “Very nice.”
It was a bit of an exaggeration, Alice decided. But at least she was polite about it. The kitchen was utilitarian at best even though the appliances weren’t too dated. It dissolved into a small dining area where an oblong wooden table could seat six.
This led to a den in which was an L-shaped couch, the longest section running along the eggshell wall. Next to it was a black leather La-Z-Boy. A forty-two-inch flatscreen was screwed into the wall in front.
“The bedroom is over here,” Tom said. “And this is the bathroom.”
They gave her the tour. The bathroom and bedroom would never be featured in Architectural Digest, but they were tastefully decorated.
“Am I crazy or is the apartment smaller than the house?” Libbie asked as they all returned to the den. “I mean, this is your basement, right?”
Tom nodded. “You’re very observant. About half the basement is on our side. It’s, you know, just a basement. The previous owners had the other half made into this apartment.”
“Oh, I see.”
Alice looked at her husband and then at the candidate who was still looking around, walking through the space as if she was already decorating it. She opened drawers, tested the faucets.
“Are you looking at other places in the area or…”
Libbie turned back to the landlords and smiled. “I am. I’m just moving into town. For the time being, I’m staying at this efficiency unit near the airport. I’m originally from New York City.”
“This town is just a bit smaller,” Tom offered, making everybody laugh at the massive understatement.
“What do you do, if you don’t mind my asking?” Alice asked.
“I’m a photographer. Mostly weddings, bar mitzvahs, and school pictures, if I can get the contracts, but I’m actually working on my portfolio. My dream is to be featured in a gallery, you know? I do landscapes, portraits, collages.”
“How interesting!”
Libbie’s face became horrified. “Oh my God! I hope you don’t think I’m some sort of strange Bohemian artist-type, or anything.”
“I, uh…”
“I don’t smoke. I don’t party. I don’t have any pets. I know artists sometimes have a bad reputation. I assure you that I’m quiet as a church mouse.”
“So are we,” Alice confessed.
“Well, we’re a match made in heaven then, aren’t we?”
“Wait,” Tom began. “So you’re interested?”
“The price is right. I like the location, too.”
“You don’t mind being in the basement?”
“Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll be here all that much. I expect to be out taking pictures most of the time. Otherwise, I’ll be down here editing my pictures and trying to contact gallery owners. This is perfect for me. If you two lovely people are happy to proceed, I’ll take it.”
~ ~ ~ ~
Libbie drove away in her Toyota a few minutes later while Alice and Tom waved goodbye from the curb.
“I like her,” Alice said.
“You’re thinking about leaving me? For her? How can you?!”
She elbowed her husband and he pretended to be mortally wounded. “Idiot.”
“I like her, too. So what do we do? She’s the jackpot winner?”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Unless you’re really into homemade pickles.”
“Ugh, tempting. Between Pickle Man, the Ferret Queen, and her, it’s a real Sophie’s Choice situation here, sweetie.” She elbowed him again as they headed back inside the house. “Okay, okay! I’ll check her references.”
When Tom discovered that the chicken wasn’t fully cooked yet, he went upstairs to his home office and called the numbers Libbie had provided them. The references checked out, the same went for her credit score. A quick online search didn’t return any upsetting news about her.
“And?” Alice asked him from the doorframe, having just taken her insulin.
“I think we’ve found ourselves a perfect tenant.”
Chapter 5
It was Friday afternoon when Libbie moved in. Alice had come home early from work for the event, arriving just in time to witness Libbie signing the lease.
“I’m so excited,” she said shaking hands with both her new landlords.
“I hope you’ll like it here.”
“I’m sure I will. This is perfect. Thank you again, Tom and Alice, for this opportunity.”
Tom craned his neck and looked through the window. “I see that you drove a rental truck?”
“Yes, I did! I had most of my stuff in storage near my motel. I’ll drive it back to the rental place in the morning and get my car. I don’t think I’ll be finished unloading the truck before nighttime.”
“Sure you will,” Tom said. “If we help.”
Libbie shook her head. “Oh please, you don’t have to do that!”
“Nonsense,” Alice protested. “It shouldn’t take too long. I mean, what do you have, just a bunch of boxes and luggage? You don’t have any couches and beds in that truck, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then we can probably do this in a few hours.”
Tom and Alice rose from the kitchen table, ready to go out, and Libbie sighed heavily, smiling in the process.
“You guys are just too sweet.”
“I know, right?” Tom said. “Probably explains why Alice is diabetic.”
They went outside and it was thankfully overcast. It wouldn’t be too hot to work. While Tom went down to the apartment to open the door and keep it open with a flower pot, Libbie opened the doors of the U-Haul panel van. Inside were suitcases and cardboard boxes.
The women started with the luggage, which had wheels and was easy to carry. Tom grabbed the first box. It was heavy and it felt like books. They fell into a routine, grabbing something, g
oing down the stairs, dropping it off, and climbing back up. The walk was the worst part.
“Hey, what’s happening?”
Alice and Libbie spun on their heels at the voice as they were getting ready for another trip downstairs. It was Rusty. He waved before he was halfway to them.
“Hi,” he said again as he reached the van.
“Hey, Rusty. How are you?”
“I’m awesome, always awesome. Do you, uh…” he looked between the unfamiliar woman, the truck, and the house, not sure if he understood everything.
“Rusty, this is Libbie. She’s going to be staying in the apartment downstairs. Libbie, this is Rusty. He lives up the street and he’s the reason why we have such wonderful landscaping.”
The kid blushed and avoided Alice’s gaze. “Thanks.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Rusty,” Libbie said, her voice dripping with charm. “I hope we can become good friends as well.”
“Uh, yeah. Do you need any help? To move in, I mean? No charge!”
“You’re so sweet!” Libbie said again, putting a hand on his upper arm which made Rusty blush even though it was Alice he was looking at.
The deal struck, Alice pulled a box closer to her. This one couldn’t close all the way and a large computer monitor was poking out. Rusty swiftly moved past her.
“Hold on, Mrs. Granger. Let me get this one. It seems heavy.”
Before she could reply, Rusty grabbed it and headed to the house. Libbie grinned but didn’t say anything.
The four of them got in gear and things went faster. Alice climbed into the van to push the boxes toward the edge. Tom and Rusty carried the boxes from the street all the way down the stairs. From there, Libbie brought them into the house. It was a good system.
Some people were faster than others and before long Libbie found herself alone with the teenager at the bottom of the steps while he caught his breath.
“Rusty? Hold on.”
“What?”
Libbie disappeared into the apartment and returned seconds later with a glass of water.
“Thanks.”
He gulped it down instantly, his eyes focused on the street above as if he was looking for something. Libbie remained by his side, sipping her own water as she observed him.
“You like her, don’t you?”
“Who?” Rusty asked.
“Alice. You like her.”
“Of course, I do. Tom and Alice are my neighbors. They give me work. They’re nice people. They’re my friends.”
“You’re sure it isn’t more than that?”
“What? Of course not!”
Libbie came a bit closer. “It’s okay, you know. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“With what?”
“You don’t have to pretend, Rusty. Not with me. It’s obvious you have a crush on Alice.”
He tensed up. “No, I don’t!”
“It’s cute,” Libbie said with a smirk. “And there’s nothing wrong with it. When I was your age, I had a crush on my art teacher.”
“For real?”
She nodded. “I bided my time and one afternoon, after school, I made my way into his office. I made sure we were alone.” She came closer still. “What I’m saying is that you can get anything you want, if you’re patient. And clever.”
Rusty’s face was beet red and at her words he slipped off a step. It made him drop his glass which shattered on the concrete floor.
“What the hell?!” Libbie yelled with shock.
“I’m sorry.”
Libbie opened her mouth to scream obscenities, yet managed to stop herself just in time. The anger didn’t dissipate, but she knew that she needed to control herself.
It’s just a glass, she told herself. It’s just a broken dollar store glass.
Her expression changed in a flash. She smiled genially at him and patted his hand. “Everything’s fine, Rusty. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’ll… I’ll pay for it.”
“Don’t be stupid. I should be paying you. You’re the one who’s helping me move into my new apartment, aren’t you? You’re such a nice young man and I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
Rusty remained dubious after her outburst. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely, Rusty. Absolutely.”
It took less than an hour to finish moving in her stuff and Libbie refused help unpacking. Rusty remained flustered until he left and she was secretly thrilled by having him on shaky ground. It was good to keep this sort of people on their toes. Young guys could get cocky, so it was best to knock them off balance from the start.
She drove the truck back to the U-Haul place and returned with her Toyota. It wasn’t the kind of vehicle she was used to, but it served a purpose. It made her one of them, which was her most immediate goal.
She parked on the curb and watched Tom and Alice through the window. They were setting up the table for dinner. Libbie remained in the car for nearly half an hour, simply staring at them. She worked on her plan, outlining the steps to reach the objective she’d dreamed about for so long.
The day of reckoning was coming.
Chapter 6
Libbie readjusted her purse on her shoulder and rang the doorbell. Night had fallen and it was cool here on the porch, but she didn’t feel it. She was thinking about her plan.
It took several seconds for the door to open. Alice stood in front of her, surprised by who the visitor was.
“Libbie, hey! Everything all right down there?”
“Yes, yes, of course. It’s great. I just wanted to come up to thank you again. I brought this.”
She opened her purse and pulled out a bottle of champagne. Technically, Libbie was well aware that Korbel was California champagne, a legal loophole American wineries had somehow gotten away with. As far as she was concerned, it was just sweet sparkling wine and had nothing on the real French stuff.
But she couldn’t tip her hand by bringing Dom Pérignon to her landlords. And anyway, she somehow doubted they’d know the difference.
“How thoughtful!” Alice exclaimed. “Please, come in.”
“I hope I’m not intruding, or anything.”
Alice shook her head and moved out of the way. “No, of course not! It’s Friday night. We weren’t doing anything special. Tom, come down!”
Alice nudged a briefcase aside, sliding it under the foyer’s console table. On top of the table were key rings and loose spares. As they walked into the living room, Tom joined them. He brightened up at once.
“Hey, Libbie! Everything all right?”
“Now I actually feel like I’m interrupting.”
“Don’t be silly,” Alice said. She lifted the bottle for Tom’s benefit. “She brought us champagne.”
“I’m just so grateful for you guys. You’re allowing me to basically live in your home. You even helped me move in. This seems like the least I can do. But I don’t want to overstep.”
Tom became serious. “Libbie, haven’t you read the city bylaws? It’s clearly stated on page seventy-nine, section twelve, I believe: he or she who brings champagne shall be invited in forthwith.”
Libbie burst into laughter, just like Tom, and Alice joined in after a groan.
“Go sit in the den,” she said. “I’ll get glasses.”
As Alice departed, Tom motioned for Libbie to sit. He took position across from her as she did so.
“Are you settling in okay?”
“Yes, it’s great. I have months of opening boxes to look forward to, but so far so good.”
Alice returned with wineglasses. She apologized for not having flutes — she said they didn’t usually drink champagne. Libbie once more bit her tongue. It wasn’t champagne! Couldn’t anyone see that?
Tom didn’t waste time removing the foil and untwisting the wire. Then he did a surprisingly good job of rotating the cork until it popped gently. Nothing spilled out.
“Am I a pro, or what?!”
“Stop fishi
ng for compliments, Tom.”
“How else am I going to get compliments, sweetie?”
Libbie chuckled at their antics, waiting dutifully for Tom to pour three glasses. “You guys are great. I hope that when I do find someone who’s husband material, we’ll have what you have.”
“I’m sure you will,” Alice said. “In the meantime, here’s to you. To our new tenant.”
Tom raised his glass. “To our new neighbor.”
“Thank you.”
“Cheers!”
They launched into mindless chitchat and Libbie did her best to seem interested. Truthfully, she kind of was because part of her plan was to learn as much as possible about this couple. She already knew them extremely well, her research had been meticulous, but nothing beat personal interactions.
“We haven’t been able to talk a lot today, but I gather you work for a real estate company?”
“I do,” Alice confirmed.
“Is that as glamorous as it sounds?”
“Of course,” Tom answered for his wife. “We’re in the presence of a future vice president.”
Libbie tried to sound impressed. “Really?”
“No, not really. Not yet, anyway. It all depends on the Mapleview account.”
Alice offered a quick rundown of the project, about how she was involved in the acquisition. Libbie asked pointed questions but was only mildly curious. It did appear important to Alice, though, and that in itself was valuable.
Before the conversation turned into an interrogation, Libbie volunteered information about her work as a photographer. She was an amateur at best and had memorized trivia about the business, anything to come off legitimate.
“But enough about work,” she said dismissively while Tom refilled their glasses. “What I want to know is how it feels to be a teenager’s object of lust.”
“What?!”
Tom laughed. “See? I’m not the only one who noticed.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Rusty,” Libbie clarified with a grin. “He totally has a thing for you.”
“Stop it, both of you. He’s just nice. Can’t people be nice without having ulterior motives?”
“Teenage boys?” Libbie asked. “Not a chance.”
