If
she had to make another bow tonight, she might just lose her mind. Sophie
expertly tied another bow with floral wire and set it aside. She had to go
home. Had to stop the madness. She looked around her little floral shop and
smiled. It was warm and homey with the white twinkle lights and floral
arrangements all around the room.
She
didn’t care that it was Thanksgiving Day and she should be home baking or doing
something for her family’s big celebration. Thanksgiving got lost in the
shuffle of the Christmas rush for Sophie.
The
clock on the wall chimed three in the afternoon and she stretched her arms and
rolled her head to stretch her neck muscles.
Thanksgiving.
One
more bow and she’d head home to bake. She tossed the finished bow onto the
pile, put on her winter coat that she really didn’t need, since it was still
warm despite it being November in Maine and headed home.
She
flicked off the lights, closed and locked the door and climbed into her very
used hatchback car that read The Enchanted Florist on the side.
It
was just getting dark as she pulled into the driveway leading to her small
house on Raymond Pond. She took the corner and jammed on the brakes.
There
was a truck in the driveway and a man standing on a ladder his arms reaching
above his head, a swatch of tan skin was exposed where his black T-shirt and
his jeans didn’t meet.
She
hadn’t scheduled any maintenance and who knew what this guy was doing to her
roof.
Putting
the car in gear, she rolled forward making sure to block his truck so that if
he was trying to break into her house, he wouldn’t get away without a fight.
He
turned to look when she turned off the engine. Tucking something under her
eves, he brushed his hands together and started down the ladder.
“Excuse
me,” Sophie said. “What are you doing to my house?” As she walked closer she
could see exactly what he’d been doing. Around each window, the door and along
the outline of the house, his man had put colored Christmas lights.
“Hello,
ma’am. I’m doing my job.”
His
voice was like silk and she felt her irritation grow that he thought because he
was good looking and sounded like a young Sean Connery that he could mess with
her house.
“I
didn’t ask for my house to be decorated. You might have the wrong place.”
Despite
the darkness setting in, she thought she saw him turn a little red. He walked
to his truck, opened the door and pulled out a work order. “It says right here
45 Beaver Point Lane, Raymond. Next to your door it says 45, correct?”
“Yes.
Let me see that. Who hired you?” She hurried over to where he was standing and
pulled the paper out of his hand. He was right.
On
the paper it read, “Decorate full house, trees, add wreathes and a Christmas
tree and decorations inside. It wasn’t signed.”
“The
address is right, but there is still a mistake. I don’t do Christmas. Not here
anyway,” she told the man.
“What
do you mean, you don’t do Christmas. Everyone loves Christmas.”
“Not
me. Not here. To me Christmas is the means to an end.” She sighed. “Why am I
telling you this? Just take the lights down.”
He
shook his head. She got a good look at him. He was maybe in his late thirties,
military cut hair and tan. His muscles bulged under his shirt and she wondered
for a second if he was here for another reason other than putting up lights.
“I’ll
have to talk to the boss about this. I can’t just take them down because you
said to. I have no proof that you actually live here.” He cocked his head to
the side.
“Who
do you work for? And what is your name. I’ll call your boss directly.”
“Ma’am.
It’s Thanksgiving, so why not wait until tomorrow to call him. There’s no sense
disturbing him while he’s with his family.”
She
thought about that for a second. She could wait until tomorrow. “Hey, why are
you here on Thanksgiving and not stuffing yourself with turkey and the
fixings?”
He
crossed his arms. “I’m working. Some people work on holidays.”
“Defensive
much? Police and firefighters work on holidays. Guys who string lights don’t
have to.”
He
rolled his eyes at her.
She
shook her head at him. “Listen, I’ve been working all day and I don’t have time
to argue with you about this. I have to make rolls or something to take to
dinner with my family. Just leave everything and I’ll call your boss tomorrow.
I’ll take care of this.”
“I’d
like to finish what’s left. I won’t bother you,” he said, his voice back to the
melty sound meant to seduce her into doing what he wanted.
“Fine.
Do what you need to do tonight.” Shoot. It worked. He was staying.
She
moved her car and went inside. She cracked open three containers of Grands
biscuits plopped them on a cookie sheet and threw them in the oven that was not
preheated.
Cooking
wasn’t her forte.
She
toed off her shoes and went upstairs to change into clothes that would satisfy
her mother, whom she loved, but didn’t always live up to her standards.
She
loved living where she did. Her view from her bedroom was the lake and her
neighbors didn’t have the right angle see in. She didn’t even have shades on
her windows.
As
she started to pull off her shirt she looked out at the lake, but saw a man
instead.
She
shrieked, then ran to the window, threw it open and glared at him.
“You’re
done. Get off my property.”
He
tried to suppress a smirk. “I’m sorry
Ma’am. I was trying to get the lights up on this side of the house. It was what
I had left. I thought you were downstairs.”
“Obviously,
I’m not,” she retorted.
“You
need curtains, Ma’am.”
“Listen…whatever
your name is…what I need is for you to go away and not come back. You’ll have
to make your living at someone else’s expense.”
“I’ll
leave, but I’ll be back tomorrow to finish the job. I always finish the job.
And by the way, my name is Darron.”
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