Читать книгу Three Christmas Wishes - Sheila Roberts - Страница 10
ОглавлениеThe problem with writing children’s stories was that the only men you met were A) editors, who were either married or gay; B) happily married stay-at-home dads who brought their children to author appearances (where were the single dads these days?); and C) little boys who came to those author appearances (all those adorable little boys—where were the big ones?). Even Noel’s landlord was a woman. Mrs. Bing was fifty-something and you’d think she’d have had a son but no. Actually, considering what Mrs. Bing looked like, that was probably just as well.
So, naturally, Noel had been thrilled when Donny Lockhart walked into Java Josie’s one rainy fall morning. Noel had been seated at a table, working on her latest project with her gingersnap latte within easy reach. It was a Saturday, practically the only day of the week besides Sunday that she got out of her jammie bottoms and got out of the house. The coffee shop was packed with people. Tables were scarce. He’d asked if he could share hers. Donny was tall and cute with red hair and freckles and trendy glasses. Of course she’d said yes.
He’d taken out his tablet and gotten to work, typing away. There was no “Hey, we’re both redheads.” No “Crappy weather we’re having, huh?” No “What are you drinking? It looks good.” No “Wow, are you an artist?”
She could’ve asked him what he was working on, but she didn’t have the nerve. All kinds of clever words poured out of her when she was working on her Marvella Monster books but when it came to picking up guys, she was more of a Timid Tillie Titmouse.
It wasn’t that she was ugly. She was okay-looking. She just...well, all those years of wearing glasses before they became a fashion statement, coupled with braces and a few extra pounds (the kiss of death when you were in high school) had messed with her self-esteem. That, plus being a bit of a nerd. Who wanted a nerd when you could hook up with a cheerleader? That had become her belief and she’d kept it all through college, which left the shelves in the boyfriend department pretty bare. If a guy got things started, she was fine, but it was hard to put herself out there and make the first move, even though the glasses had been replaced with contacts and the extra pounds had long since disappeared.
So she’d sighed inwardly and gone back to sketching the illustrations for her latest Marvella book, Marvella and the Monster Under Mary’s Bed.
She’d just finished sketching Marvella pulling a protesting green gremlin out from under the hapless Mary’s bed when someone spoke. “Are you an artist?”
Mr. Cute Glasses was talking to her? “Yes.” Now, there was an area where she had complete confidence. “I’m a children’s book author but I illustrate all my own books.” That in itself was quite an accomplishment, if she did say so herself. Not many people could do both well.
“Yeah?” He’d leaned over and checked out Marvella, who was upside down. She’d turned her sketch tablet around so he could see her creation better.
“You’re really good.”
She’d smiled modestly and thanked him. Now that the conversational gate was open, she’d had no problem asking, “What about you? What do you do?”
His cheeks had turned a little pink. “I’m between jobs at the moment. What I want to do is be a writer.”
A kindred soul! “Really? What do you want to write?”
“Legal thrillers. You know, like John Grisham.”
“I love him.” Something else they had in common. “So is that what you’re working on right now?”
His cheeks had gone from pink to red. “Actually, no. I’m, uh, writing something different, along the lines of Fifty Shades.”
She’d felt her own cheeks sizzling. She’d tried to watch the movie, but her eyes had started to melt five minutes in. Her life was more like fifty shades of white.
“I heard there’s big money in romance novels,” he’d said, “so I thought I’d start there.”
“That sounds like a plan,” she’d said, at a loss for anything better. She knew quite a few writers, and none of them were in it for the money. They wrote because they loved to write. Still, she supposed it was good to be practical.
Donny had introduced himself and they’d wound up talking for twenty minutes until he’d checked his cell phone and announced that he had to go. Writers group meeting.
But before he left, he’d gotten her phone number and promised to call.
Lo and behold, he had. They’d dated hot and heavy for six glorious months. Six months of foreign films at The Orpheum. Lunch at Lettuce Love, since lunch was cheaper than dinner and Donny was on a budget...so of course she always offered to pay and he always let her. (Very secure in who he was as a man.) Six months of open mike on Monday nights at Java Josie’s, where aspiring writers read their work. (Donny always read. His stuff was...well, he was still a beginner. He had room to grow.)
Six months of Donny asking her if her agent represented romance novelists, if she could edit his latest chapter, what she thought of his new scene. Six months of Donny talking about Donny and his dreams and very little talking about Noel and hers. Six months of him looking for a job to support himself while he finished his novel and finding nothing and continuing to live in his parents’ basement. Of him asking if he could borrow ten bucks and then forgetting to pay her back. Six months before she finally realized that Donny was cute and creative—and self-centered and a user. After six months, Donny was history. The last time she saw him at the coffee shop he was hitting on a blonde in a business suit. So much for true love.
But she wasn’t going to think about that. There was more to life than men.
Like holiday sales. And the mall, which served both Whispering Pines and the nearby town of Salmon Run, definitely had that going now that Black Friday was here. Christmas decorations were up and oversize golden balls and swags hung everywhere. In the middle of the mall, right by the information booth, Santa’s shack, a red plywood chalet with white gingerbread trim, was being erected. A sign at the corner of the fake snow lawn announced: Santa Arrives December 1.
Good thing he wasn’t arriving this weekend, she thought. He’d never have found a place to park his sleigh. It looked as if everyone in Whispering Pines and their fishy neighbor seven miles to the east was here. They all seemed to be swarming the department stores, getting their cell phones upgraded or their ears pierced or buying cookies over at Carmen’s Cookie House. And they were all ready to do battle for bargains, especially at Macy’s. One woman beat her to the last black sweater in her size by all of two seconds.
Jo was currently using her belly as a lethal weapon, knocking competitors out of the way in the activewear department. “She’s fierce,” Noel observed to Riley.
“Yep. She always has been. Sometimes I feel sorry for poor Mike.”
“You don’t think they’re going to split up, do you?”
“I hope not,” Riley said. “His shipping out never bothered her when it was only the two of them, but now with the baby in the picture, she’s been complaining a lot about him being gone so much. Of course, she’s been complaining a lot about all kinds of stuff. It’s really not like her. I’m not sure being pregnant agrees with her.”
“It would with me,” Noel said. Darn, but she wanted a baby. Here she wrote children’s books and didn’t have a child. What was wrong with that picture? “Maybe I’ll adopt.” Why wait for a man to come along? At the rate she was going, she could be waiting until she was fifty.
“I don’t know,” Riley said. “I think I’d rather have a dad in the picture, someone to take over when you’ve got cramps and just want to go to bed.”
“Yeah, but what if I never find someone? What if...” Oh, dear. Don’t go there. “But we’re not going to think about that.”
Riley frowned. “No, we’re not. Instead we’re going to try on dresses.”
She hauled Noel over to a rack where evening outfits were thirty percent off. “I don’t need an evening dress,” Noel protested. Besides being on a tight budget, she wasn’t exactly the fancy-dress kind of girl. Her pink sweats and Uggs said it all—boring homebody who writes on her laptop in her jammies. Besides, if they went out and she needed something fancy, she had the red bridesmaid dress she’d bought for Riley’s wedding.
Except wearing that around her friend would be mean. And tacky. Anyway, where were they going to go with their love lives in the toilet?
“Well, I do,” Riley said. “Let’s buy some sexy dresses to wear on New Year’s Eve.”
“Uh, Riley, neither one of us has someone to go out with on New Year’s Eve.”
“This will be like thinking positive, putting it out there in the universe that we want someone to celebrate with. And if no one comes, we’ll still go out. I’m not going to start the New Year feeling like an abysmal love failure.”
“No one would ever call you that,” Noel insisted.
Riley began furiously sorting through the dresses. She pulled out a black one with a sweetheart neckline, trimmed with fake pearls and gold beads and held it against her. “What do you think?”
“That Sean blew it.”
Riley’s lower lip wobbled and a tear slipped out of the corner of one eye. She dashed it away. “I can’t become pitiful,” she said in a low voice.
“You won’t. You aren’t,” Noel assured her, and gave her a hug.
“Excuse me,” said another woman, nudging them aside. “If you aren’t going to look, could you please get out of the way?”
“Sorry,” they said in unison and stepped aside.
Riley frowned. “You know what’s wrong with us?” Noel wasn’t sure she wanted to hear but Riley rushed on before she could say so. “We’re too nice, that’s what. We let people walk all over us.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes, we do. I let Sean get away with sneaking out on me. I never made demands, never said, ‘I’m sorry, you can’t work late tonight because we have plans.’ And you, you always let your publisher walk all over you.”
“I do not!”
“Yeah, you do. You hated that last title they picked for your Marvella Monster book and you never said anything.”
“That’s because no one cares whether I like the title or not. Publishers want something that will sell, and they figure they know what works. Authors hardly ever get to keep their original title idea.” Honestly, she should never have complained to Riley.
“Okay, what about Donny? How many times did he hit you up for loans before you finally got rid of him?”
She’d lost count. “I did get rid of him, though.”
“Only after Jo threatened to call, pretending to be you, and break up with him.”
Noel sighed. “Okay, maybe we are too nice.”
“We are. I mean, how about what we did just now? Don’t we have a right to stand at a rack and look at clothes?”
“We weren’t really looking and we were kind of in the way.”
“I was looking. Anyway, it’s the principle of the thing,” Riley said and stepped back over to the rack, giving the hangers a violent shove.
“Hey, watch it,” the other woman snapped.
“Sorry,” Riley mumbled. She grabbed a red dress and slinked away. “I guess it takes time to change your life. But I’m going to,” she said with determination. “I’m going to be like Jo and take life by the horns. I’m going to buy a new dress and I’ll go out on New Year’s Eve. By myself if I have to. I’m not going to let Sean turn me into some pitiful reject who sits home all the time and feels sorry for herself.”
Pitiful reject who sits home all the time—why did that have a familiar ring to it?
Jo was back with them now, carrying another bulging bag. She’d obviously succeeded in her quest for new workout pants.
She approved her sister’s speech by saying, “All right, sis,” and bumped knuckles with Riley. “I like this new you.” She looked at the cocktail dresses in Riley’s hands. “Oooh, pretty. Have you tried those on yet?”
“Not yet, but I will. Noel, how about you?” Riley challenged.
“Well...” A fancy dress so wasn’t in the budget. She was trying desperately to save money for a down payment on the little house she was renting. She loved that place and when Noel had called to tell Mrs. Bing she wanted to rent for another year, Mrs. Bing had mentioned that she was thinking of selling it. Noel was determined to be the one she sold it to. In addition to saving for that worthy goal, Christmas was looming and she had more presents to buy.
Still, it would be fun to go out on New Year’s Eve even if she didn’t have a man. And since she could hardly go out with her friend and wear the bridesmaid’s dress from the wedding that didn’t happen...
“Thirty percent off,” Jo reminded her.
Riley snagged a black dress in Noel’s size. “Come on,” she said. “Try it on.”
“Okay.”
Riley beamed. “Let’s go.”
Jo plopped onto a nearby chair. “There’s no way we can all fit in a changing room. Come out and show me.”
“If we ever get a changing room,” Riley muttered. “This is like standing in line for the bathroom.”
“I’ll bet the bathroom line’s shorter,” said Noel.
But ten minutes later they were in a changing room, side by side and admiring themselves in the mirror, Riley in the red dress and Noel in the black one, accessorized with her Uggs. “Oh, we look hotter than cinnamon,” Riley said with a smile. It was a big, wide smile, not one of the small, dull ones she’d been showing recently.
Noel smiled, too. “You look great.”
“So do you,” Riley said. “Except for the shoes,” she added. “Come on, let’s show Jo.”
Jo approved. “Oh, yeah. You guys are crazy if you don’t buy those.” Then she grimaced at Noel’s feet. “Shoe-shopping next.”
Noel didn’t want to be crazy, so she joined Riley at the cash register and bought the dress. Anyway, Riley had a point, and Noel decided she, too, needed to get a life, one that took place in the real world, not just inside her head with Marvella. She was going out and she’d be wearing this dress. And some sexy shoes, too!
“I’m starving,” Jo said after they’d bought Noel a pair of red stiletto heels guaranteed to break her neck, as well as some rock-me-baby black boots. “Let’s go to the food court and see if they have any chocolate chip cookies left at Carmen’s Cookie House.”
Chocolate chip cookies weren’t as good as sex but they ran a close second. Noel followed the sisters out of the department store.
They all stopped for a moment to watch as Santa’s Play Land came to life with mall employees setting out plastic elves and mechanical reindeer with heads that bobbed up and down. “Just think,” Riley said to Jo, “this time next year you’ll be taking your baby to see Santa.”
“That was always so fun when we were kids,” Jo said. “I can hardly wait to do it with mine.” Then she grinned. “In fact, I’ll start this year.” She turned to Riley and Noel. “You guys want to come with me to see Santa?”
Now Riley was grinning, too. “Like we all did when we were in high school.”
Noel remembered that. Jo had been in her junior year, and she and Riley had been sophomores. Riley had asked for a car, which she didn’t get. Noel had asked for straight As, and almost got there except for a B in algebra. And Jo had asked for a new boyfriend, which she did get. Jo had always been good at finding ways to get what she wanted. Sometimes Noel wished she was more like Jo. Considering all the time she and Riley had spent trailing her like puppies, you’d have thought more of her warrior princess attitude would’ve worn off on them.
“Let’s do it,” Riley was saying. “Let’s come here on December first after I get done with school. We can see Santa and then go out for dinner.”
“Twelfth Man Sports Bar,” said Jo. “Who knows? There might be some cute guys there.”
“I think we’ve met about every single man in Whispering Pines,” Riley said, backing up Noel’s theory about the shrinking male population. “But hey, you never know.”
True. Maybe if Noel asked for a man, someone who was a step up from Donny (which would be just about anyone), Santa would come through.
They were buying their cookies when her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID and saw it was her landlady. What could Mrs. Bing want?
“Noel, I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’m bringing someone to look at the house this afternoon. It’s short notice, but I hope that’s okay.”
“The house?” Her house? “I don’t understand.”
“You remember I’ve been talking about selling it.”
Yes, to her! She’d told Mrs. Bing she’d love to buy it. She’d hoped Mrs. Bing would be open to carrying a contract with her. Mrs. Bing hadn’t been too excited about that, so Noel had made her an offer. It turned out to be an offer she could refuse. Still, Noel had insisted she could come up with the money Mrs. Bing wanted. Somehow. She’d been saving like crazy for a down payment that would impress both Mrs. Bing and the bank. All she needed was a few more months. Okay, more like a year, but still.
“I have someone who’s interested,” Mrs. Bing said.
“But I’m interested!”
“Yes, I know you are, dear, but this person actually has money and wants to make a cash offer, and I’m a little strapped for cash right now.”
“Oh, Mrs. Bing,” Noel began miserably.
“I’m sorry, dear. I really am. Anyway, we’ll be coming by around four. Like I said, I should’ve given you more notice, so I hope you don’t mind.”
Yes, she minded.
“You don’t need to be home,” Mrs. Bing continued. “In fact, I’m sure you’re out enjoying the Black Friday sales.”
She had been until this.
“Now, don’t worry. I’ll see that you have plenty of time to move out. A month’s notice should do, shouldn’t it? I heard they have vacancies in those new apartments over on East View.”
Noel didn’t want to live in the new apartments on East View, even if some of them did look out on Case Inlet. But before she could say that—or anything—Mrs. Bing said a cheery goodbye and ended the call.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jo.
“Mrs. Bing’s selling my house. Can she do that?”
“When’s your rental contract up?”
Oh, boy. “End of this month. But I already told her I’d stay another year.”
“Why’s she bringing in someone else? I thought you told her you wanted to rent with an option to buy.”
“Because she didn’t want to do that,” Noel said. “She wasn’t exactly open to any of my ideas.” She handed over her money and got a big cookie in exchange. Suddenly she wasn’t in the mood for a cookie. She wasn’t in the mood for anything except a good cry.
“She could have given you first dibs,” Riley said, incensed on her behalf.
“She knows I don’t have enough for a down payment yet.” Now she wished she hadn’t bought that fancy dress and boots. Or the stupid shoes. Even though the money she’d spent on them was only a drop in a very big bucket that seemed to have a hole in it.
“What if you went and talked to her, asked her for a few days to see if you qualify for a loan?” Jo suggested.
Noel already knew the answer to that. She’d been to the bank. With her fluctuating earnings as a children’s book author, Mr. Ridley, the loan officer at First Mutual, was nervous about giving her a loan, especially in light of how far short she was of what she’d need for a healthy down payment.
Her parents weren’t currently in any financial shape to help her. Dad had been laid off, and he and Mom were trying to make ends meet on his unemployment and what Mom earned working part-time at the library. Plus, they now had a wedding to pay for.
If only Marvella was real. Noel would sic her on this would-be buyer and get him out of the way so she’d have time to pull together her finances.
But she didn’t have a Marvella. All she had was herself.
“You should go over there and talk this potential buyer out of it. Don’t let him or her swoop in and take your place away from you,” Jo said.
Noel looked despondently at her cookie. “I have no idea how to talk somebody out of buying a house.”
“Too bad it isn’t falling down around your ears,” said Riley.
“Too bad it doesn’t have termites,” Jo added. “Or rats.” Then she grinned. “Rats, that’s it!”
Riley stared at her as if she were nuts. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about a strong deterrent,” Jo said. “Come on, Purrfect Pets has got to be open today.” She started waddling down the mall.
“What’s she talking about?” Noel asked as they followed her.
“I think she’s found a way to discourage your buyer,” Riley said. “Would you fall in love with a house that was infested with rats?”
“You mean turn rats loose in the house?” Eeew.
“It’s worth a try,” Riley said as they caught up with Jo.
“But...rats?”
“You got a better idea?” Jo asked.
“No,” Noel said with a sigh. “But I hate rats.”
“They’re kind of cute,” Riley said. “Anyway, you’ll probably only need a couple.”
“What am I supposed to do with them after this potential buyer leaves?”
“Call me and I’ll help you catch them. I could use some rats in my classroom.”
“I guess,” Noel said. Oh, but rats were so creepy with their little ratty paws and that long, ratty tail. Eeew. Just. Eeew.
Purrfect Pets was indeed open and filled with people hoping to buy puppies for Christmas. They passed a tank with snakes in it and Noel shuddered.
“Maybe we should get a snake, too,” Riley suggested and Noel quickly vetoed it. The rats were bad enough.
Ten minutes later she was the proud owner of two gray rats. (Riley had fallen for a gray-and-white one, but Jo had vetoed him. Too domestic-looking. Noel wanted to veto the whole plan, but she’d been outnumbered.) She’d also shelled out for a cage, bedding for the cage and rat food.
“I can’t believe I just spent all that on vermin,” she muttered as they left the mall.
“Don’t worry. I’ll reimburse you,” Riley told her.
Back in Jo’s Honda Pilot, the two sisters took the front seats and left Noel in back with the rats, who kept making little scritchy-scratchy noises as they paced around their cage. “These things creep me out,” she said, hugging the door.
“My kids will love them,” Riley said.
“Let’s hope the potential buyer hates ’em,” Jo said then groaned. “Oh, my gosh, I swear this girl is going to be a boxer the way she keeps pushing me.”
“A sure sign she’s about ready to come out,” Riley told her.
“The sooner, the better,” Jo said as they turned into Noel’s driveway.
“Want me to come in with you and set them free?” Riley offered as she took out the cage for Noel.
“No, I can do this,” she said as much to herself as her friend. “But I will definitely call you to come back and help me catch them.”
“Okay. Good luck in your mission,” Riley said and hugged her. Then the sisters roared off down the road, leaving her alone with the rats.
She carried her new houseguests into the house, holding the cage as far away from her as possible. This was too, too creepy. But she’d have brought home a boa constrictor if it would keep away the competition.
The house wasn’t a mansion. In fact, it was small, with only two bedrooms. But it had a bay window in the living room and a brick fireplace that she loved using in the winter, with a mantel just right for hanging Christmas stockings, and a built-in china cabinet in the dining room. The lawn at the back of the house wasn’t much, but it was the right size for a puppy...which she fully intended to get once she owned the place and was free of the no-pets rule. She loved sitting out on the patio in the summer, smelling the honeysuckle that grew on the side of the house and working on her books. The kitchen cabinets and floor vinyl were both as old as time. The windows tended to sweat in the winter and the hardwood floor was scratched up, but none of that bothered her. Someday, when she had money, she’d replace the windows and refinish the floor, refinish the kitchen cabinets, and this old place would sparkle like the gem it was. Meanwhile, though, she loved it, and she wasn’t going to give it up.
She glanced around at her tidy living room with the apartment-size, cream-colored sofa and matching chair, the rocking chair that had been her grandma’s, the fall candle arrangement on the coffee table. Ugh. It all looked way too inviting. She couldn’t do anything to the house itself, but she could at least cut down on the cozy factor. She set down the cage and got to work messing up the room, putting away the candles and throwing some sofa pillows on the floor. In the kitchen she pulled dirty dishes out of the dishwasher and scattered them on the kitchen counter. There. That was better. Now, all she had to do was set loose the vermin.
Oh, wait. Did she want rats climbing on her sofa pillows? She put them back on the sofa. Okay, it was showtime.
She approached the cage as if it bore two ravenous tigers, reaching out a tentative hand to the latches on the little door. “You can do this,” she told herself. Honestly, she was a huge, powerful human. They were only the size of her feet.
Rats the size of her feet running around the house!
She held her breath and opened the door, granting them freedom to pillage her place, then dashed for the sofa. Rats couldn’t climb furniture, could they?
She huddled there and watched as the stupid things stood at the door of their cage and sniffed. “Come on, already, get out and do your duty.” What was the problem here? Were they agoraphobic? She left the sofa and crept to the cage, giving it a wiggle. The rats planted their feet. Great. Just great. She’d brought home defective rats.
But no, now one was poking its nose out of the cage. Then, next thing she knew, he was out. With a screech she ran back to the sofa.
Brother rat came out, too, and she sat helplessly watching as they scuttled around her living room, sniffing and exploring. She was never going to be able to leave her sofa. And, oh, how dumb! Her cell phone was in her purse on the hall table. How would she ever be able to call Riley to come over and help her put them back in their cage? Doomed. She was doomed to stay on her sofa for the rest of her life like some poor flood victim camped on her roof, hoping for a helicopter.
The mantel clock told her she only had half an hour before the invaders arrived. Of course, now she had to go to the bathroom. Maybe she could wait until Mrs. Bing came. Maybe Mrs. Bing and the potential house thief would distract the rats long enough for her to dash to the bathroom. This had been such a stupid idea.
She nibbled her lip. She really had to go.
She was going to have to be brave. Time to make a break for the bathroom. The rats were over there, on their way to the kitchen. She was clear over here. She could do this. She put one tentative foot down and then the other. One of the little beasties lifted its gray head and looked at her. Looked right at her!
Eeeee! She dashed for the bathroom and shut herself in. She was never coming out.
She kept her vow until she heard her front door open, followed by the sound of voices, one feminine, the other masculine. Mrs. Bing and the interloper. Suddenly Noel had no idea what to do. Should she stay in the bathroom with the door locked? Ha! Not a bad plan. They’d both try the door and not be able to open it, yet another sign of a flawed house.
“This was my mother’s home,” Mrs. Bing said. “She lived in it for fifty years. As you can see, it has a lot of charm.”
Dear God, please let him be blind.
Footsteps moved from the hall into the living room and Noel opened the door and stuck her head out, trying to hear.
“Windows will have to be replaced,” said the voice.
Yes, too expensive. You don’t want a house where you have to replace the windows.
“What the hell?”
He must’ve seen the rats. Hee, hee.
“Oh, my!” cried Mrs. Bing. “We’ve never had rats in this house.”
Noel crept down the hall and peered around the door frame into the living room. There was Mrs. Bing in all her glory, wearing a faux fur coat over a tentlike green dress that made her look like a Christmas tree. Atop that Christmas tree sat a face like a pumpkin with Chia Pet hair.
Next to her stood a tall, dark-haired man with a body to match his manly voice. He wore jeans and a black sweater and an old, leather jacket and had black stubble on his chin. His eyes were brown. And his mouth...it was lifted in a half smile.
“Those are domestic,” he said, and pointed to the cage.
Darn. Why hadn’t she hidden the stupid cage? Oh, yeah. Terror.
“That’s impossible,” Mrs. Bing said in shock. “Noel knows I have a no-pet policy.”
Noel decided it was time to show herself. “I’m keeping them for a friend. She’s a teacher. She’s coming to get them tonight.”
“Why are they out of the cage?” Mrs. Bing demanded.
Jailbreak? Noel had a very creative mind; why couldn’t she think of something? “Um, the latch on their door must have jiggled loose.” Did that sound lame to anyone besides her?
“Well, put them back,” Mrs. Bing ordered.
“Now?” She’d have a heart attack right here.
“Don’t worry,” said the interloper. “I’ll get ’em.”
She watched as he chased down the first rat and bent to pick up the disgusting little squeaker. Nice butt. Oh, who cared?
“You didn’t need to be home,” Mrs. Bing told Noel as the unwanted visitor scooped up Useless Rat Number Two and stuck him back in the cage with Useless Rat Number One.
“I was done shopping,” Noel said. “I wanted to come home and...check for leaks.” Ha! Brilliant. No one would want to buy a house with leaks.
Mrs. Bing’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “When did you notice a leak, Noel?”
Noel’s guilty conscience started a fire on her cheeks. “I thought I saw water the day before yesterday. In the kitchen.”
“Really.” Mrs. Bing was not fooled.
The rats were safely in the cage now. “Let’s go look,” said the interloper.
So they all trooped out to the kitchen to look.
The kitchen was as cheerful and warm as ever with its yellow walls. Noel and Riley had painted those walls last summer. She’d even sprung for the paint herself. All the love she’d been pouring into this house and Mrs. Bing was going to sell it out from under her just like that. Mrs. Bing was an ingrate.
“Where exactly was the leak?” asked Mrs. Bing.
“Uh, over by the window. I think.”
The interloper gave the window and surrounding wall a checkup. “No signs of water damage. But the counters need replacing.”
“The counters are fine,” Noel informed him and he raised an eyebrow.
“Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the house,” Mrs. Bing said. “Noel, you can wait down here.”
“That’s okay. I’ll come with you,” Noel said. Her rent was paid up. She had every right to join the home tour.
They walked from room to room, the interloper seeing ways he could change every one.
“You know, this house is very nice just as it is,” Noel informed him.
The interloper cocked his head. “Yeah? Then why don’t you buy it?”
“I want to. Mrs. Bing knows that,” Noel said and looked accusingly at her landlady.
Mrs. Bing’s cheeks turned rosy. “Noel, if you had the money I’d sell it to you.”
“Noel, pretty name,” said the interloper. He thrust out a hand for her to shake. “Mine’s Ben, Ben Fordham.”
Noel put her own hands behind her back. “What do you intend to do with this house, Ben Fordham?”
“I intend to fix it up.”
“And then what? It needs a family, people to live in it and love it.” Okay, she was lecturing now.
No, no. She wasn’t lecturing. She was getting in touch with her inner Marvella Monster, chasing away a predator.
He held up his left hand. “Not married.”
“Well, then...” Suddenly it dawned. “You don’t want this house for yourself. You’re going to flip it.”
“I’m going to fix it up and sell it to a family who will love it.”
Fix it up? Ha! He was going to destroy its character. Noel turned to Mrs. Bing. “Mrs. Bing, please don’t sell the house to this...this...Scrooge. He only wants it so he can make a profit. Please let me rent to own or give me time to come up with a down payment. I love this place. I’ll take care of it.”
“I saw how you’re taking care of it with the dirty dishes on the counter,” Mrs. Bing said, pursing her lips.
“I never have dirty dishes on the counter, really. That was...” Noel was aware of Ben the Bad Man looking at her.
“Camouflage?” he guessed. “Like the rats and the so-called leak.”
She wasn’t too proud to beg. “I’m sure you can find other houses to buy.”
“Of course I can,” he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Until he added, “But not at this price point.” He turned to Mrs. Bing. “Why don’t we go back to your house and talk?”
Nodding, Mrs. Bing started down the hall.
Ben the Bad Man turned to follow her and Noel caught him by the arm. “Please don’t buy this house.”
He looked down at her pityingly. “This is nothing personal. It’s just business.” Then he gently disengaged his arm and trailed Mrs. Bing down the hall. “Nice meeting you, Noel.”
“I wish I could say the same,” she called after him then leaned against the wall and wished all manner of Christmas disasters on him. She hoped he fell off a ladder while hanging Christmas lights and broke his leg. No, make that both legs. She hoped his dog bit him. And if he didn’t have a dog she hoped all the dogs in the neighborhood would poop on his lawn. She hoped Santa would drive right by his house or, better yet, drive over it and dump an entire load of coal down his chimney. She hoped...he’d have a change of heart. Maybe he’d have a dream and get visited by a bunch of ghosts showing him what a bad boy he was.
Or maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to win him over.
