6
Mysti
The knockon the door startled me, and I jumped from the couch with my heart racing like I’d caught someone trying to break in. I had to take five long breaths to calm myself, but even that wasn’t enough as I forced myself toward the door. It wasn’t until I saw my landlord’s head through the front window that I fully relaxed.
“Hey, Bud,” I said as I pulled open the door. “How’s it going?”
“Doing good. How about you?” He pushed through as I stepped aside, his toolbox in hand and a box tucked under his arm.
“How you doing, sweetheart?” his wife, Bert, asked as she came in behind him, a bag on her shoulder and another box balanced on her hip.
“Good. Let me help you with that.” I took the box from her and followed the two of them to the kitchen. Bud set his things down and immediately went to the sink, turning it on and off again, watching the water trickle out from around the base. “It’s just a little leak, but I didn’t want it to turn into something worse.”
“I appreciate that, dear, I do. It’s best to stay on top of things like this.”
As Bud opened the box holding the new faucet, Bert took a seat at the kitchen table and pulled a plastic sack from her bag. “I made you some cookies.”
She unwrapped a tray from the plastic, and my mouth watered at the sight. “Oh, thank you. What kind are they?” I asked, snagging one from the tray before she’d even put it down.
“Apple cinnamon oatmeal. They’re Bud’s favorite.”
“Told her to get those damn things out of the house if she wants me to be able to fit through the door,” Bud said, a smile on his face as he snatched a cookie straight from Bert’s hand. He turned from her before she could take it back and lowered himself to his knees before the sink. She stuck her tongue out at him, then took another cookie from the tray.
“They’re delicious.” Work had been so busy; I only had time for a quick lunch. Add that to the lackluster breakfast I’d had, and my stomach was demanding I put something in it.
“There’s more where that came from.” Bert pushed the tray closer to me, but I shook my head and covered my mouth.
I hadn’t forgotten Trenton’s demand that I stay hungry. “I really shouldn’t, but thank you.”
“Nonsense,” Bud said from under the sink. “You should eat every last one so I won’t be tempted.”
Laughter filled the air, and as I snagged another cookie, I couldn’t help but join in.
“So how’s everything going for you here in Seaside?” Bert asked after she, too, had finished her cookies.
“I don’t really have too much to complain about.”
“Not too much?” Her head tipped to one side, and just like on the night we first met, she looked me over, like doing so could tell her everything in my life. “So, tell me your complaints.”
A sigh left me, because I hated that I had anything to complain about at all. Since I was forced out of my previous life and into this one, I tried focusing only on the positive. And there was so much positive. So many things to be thankful for.
But…
“Someone might have stolen some of my clothes.”
Bert’s brows furrowed, and under the sink, Bud paused what he was doing and shifted his gaze to me.
I rushed on, trying to explain, “I love the ocean breeze, so when the weather’s nice, I’ve been hanging my clothes on the line outside to dry. But things keep going missing. I didn’t think much of it at first, but now I have to find time to go to the store and replace a few things.”
Bert moved toward me in her chair, and when she spoke, her voice was quieter than before. “What kinds of things?”
A grimace scrunched my face. “Underwear, t-shirts, a pair of shorts once, and last night, a bra.”
She tsked and shook her head. “I just don’t understand people sometimes.”
For a moment, I wondered whether I should continue. But I’d made Corabelle a promise; I couldn’t back out now. “Did your previous tenant ever have any issues?”
Bud climbed out from under the sink, took his hat off his head, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “No, not that she ever told us.”