Page 16 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

Those were torn down—thanks to my brother—while I was in New York, and this corner of Main Street and Huckleberry is a mix of new businesses—mostly only open in summer—and housing for summer workers. The old house doesn’t fit in here anymore, but Zach listened to me when I told him not to tear it down so that we could keep something of the original look to this part of town. He would have destroyed an important part of Paradise’s history for something impersonal and characterless if I hadn’t convinced him he could keep the outside intact and change the inside to be condos.

He kept all the house’s exterior charm. Zach didn’t hold on to any of the interior features, renovating everything rather than take the time to preserve the hand carved moldings or brass knobs. There’s still one entrance which leads into the original foyer, but a new staircase leads to the upper unit and another door leads into my place on the main floor. Aside from the tile and dark-stained, pine wainscoting in the foyer, everything inside the condo units is as modern as the buildings that surround the old house. I love looking at the outside of the house, but the inside makes me sad.

I stare at the once-stately manor from the edge of the lawn. There’s light behind the blinds upstairs. My unit is dark, but Rosie is barking loud enough that I’m sure Evie can hear her. I hope she does. Maybe Rosie’s barking will convince her to find somewhere else to live.

Doubtful, since she’s living there rent free. Maybe I’m paranoid, but Evie’s been here less than twelve hours, and the universe seems determined to throw us together.

Rosie always waits for me at the bay window in what used to be the front parlor of the house. The window faces the street, and she barks louder when she sees me walk to the main door. Before I can close the door to my place, she’s jumping waist high to greet me.

“I know, girl. I’m happy to see you, too.” I squat down to scratch her behind her ears. Apparently, it’s been an exciting day. “Yes, we have a new neighbor,” I say to her. “It is very exciting.”

She barks and jumps around some more while I try to close the door with my foot before she can bolt outside, but someone blocks it.

I glance over my shoulder to see that someone is Evie.

“Excuse me, but…” she says over Rosie’s manic barking with her smile so plastered on that she could reinforce an entire wall with it.

Rosie takes this opportunity to run to Evie for more love. Evie yelps and jumps out of the way, allowing Rosie, still barking, to escape out the main door, which I apparently didn’t close all the way.

“Rosie!” I run after her into the front yard.

Rosie makes one tight circle, then a bigger one to avoid my grasp. “Rosie! Bad girl!”

My anger only makes the game more fun for her. She runs close, tempting me to catch her. Like the fool that I am, I lunge for her with more intensity than I might otherwise because I’m very aware I have an audience.

Rosie pulls a Tom Brady and avoids my over-done blitz. My feet come out from under me on the dewy grass, and I end up face down.

I look up to see Evie with her mouth open, the corners of it threatening to pull into a smile. She quickly sucks in her lips, trying not to laugh as I push myself up and shake grass and mud from my hands. Rosie, seeing another golden opportunity, darts for the open door. Instead of blocking her, Evie jumps to the side as though Rosie is a three-hundred-pound linebacker and not a twenty-pound Boston Terrier. Then Rosie darts up the stairs to Evie’s place.

That wipes the laughter out of Evie’s eyes. “Get it!” she yells.

I run up the stairs through Evie’s open door with her close behind. Rosie is running circles in the front room, going from the rug to the couch and back around the coffee table, leaving muddy paw prints everywhere.

“Rosie!” I use my loudest, angriest voice, which finally gets her attention. She slows long enough for me to grab her. “Bad dog!”

Then I turn to Evie, who’s staring wide-eyed at her (Zach’s) couch. “I’m so sorry. She’s excited to have a new neighbor.” I follow Evie’s gaze to the couch. “Let me take her home, and I’ll come back to help you clean up.” I move toward the door.

“It’s fine.” She inches toward the wall as I get closer, and Rosie starts her yapping again.

“She’s been barking since I got here—does she do that all night?” Evie’s shoulders slump, and she leans against the wall. “I really need to get some sleep tonight.”

“If you pet her, she’ll shut up.” At least I hope so. I’m desperate to make things right. “She likes to meet new people.” It’s her greatest downfall.

“No, thank you,” Evie shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t really like dogs.”

I come to an immediate stop and press Rosie’s wriggling body to my chest and cover her ears. “You don’t like dogs?” I say quietly so Rosie can’t hear.

No one doesn’t like dogs. Except maybe cat people. And they can’t be trusted. If Evie is acatperson, this is even a worse situation than I’d expected.

“Not really, no.” She shakes her head. “Can you, um, just take her to your place, please?”

“Yeah. Sure.” I carry Rosie back downstairs, whispering, “it’s okay, girl.”

That settles her down some, but when I set her down and walk back out the door, her barking picks up again. I try to shush her, but finally give up—she’s in a mood and it’s probably best that she wears herself out. She’s not used to having neighbors, it’s a lot of excitement for her to process. It’s a lot for both of us to process.

Evie’s door isn’t closed tight and comes open when I knock. “Hey,” I call as I step inside. She’s walking toward the kitchen and jumps.

“Sorry!” I blurt. This situation keeps getting worse. “Let me help you clean up.”

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