Page 2 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

Okay, he might know something, because I do indeed have a dog in here. But he doesn’t know that he actually knows. I’m certain.

I’m always so careful with Noel. I am mega discreet when I take her out—I always use the back door while the rest of the building uses the front. Sure, Mrs. Bell saw her once—only once—and she gushed over my girl. I think she thought she was one of my dog-walking clients.

The only way this guy knows for sure is if he’s tracking me with cameras and microphones and other uber-creepy things. Which, at this point, I wouldn’t put past him.

There are only twelve apartments in this building, and he’s told me which one he’s in. I need to get a peek at him so I can accidentally trip him or spill doggy bath water on him. Maybe that water will spill on him when he’s standing right next to the Christmas lights the owner strung up all over the apartment building. That way he’ll accidentally be electrocuted as well.

Whoa—Bonnie, too far.

I’m not the violent type. I’m the peace-loving type. But today—twelve days before Christmas, the happiest time of the year—he’s sent note number six.

Dear Miss Miller,

And—my name. How does he know my name? Did he steal a key to my mailbox and go through my letters or something?

This is your last warning. You have a dog. I’ve heard it multiple times. Remove the animal before Christmas, or I will be forced to call Mrs. Elliot.

Sincerely,

E.J. Eaton

And now I have his name.

TWO

elliot

I’ve triedto be polite. Notes are less intimidating than a six-foot-four man standing in your doorway, right? I’ve tried to go the easy, non-threatening route. But the girl won’t listen.

I’m not an idiot. I know there’s an animal up there. And it’s notAnimal Planetplaying on her television. The problem is, I’ve never actually seen the thing—or the woman in question.

Gran said if I wanted to buy the building, I’d have to live here for six months. Live in the space, run the day-to-day, and become a part of the Cherry Plum community. She wants me to understand the tenants, what they need, and enforceallthe rules. I can do that. I have been doing that. I’ve been excited to do it. I used to help Gramps fix the place up and go with Gran to collect the rent all the time when I was a kid. I love this building. It’s nostalgic and special to me in a way I can’t really explain. Gramps always said it’s more than a job, it’s giving others a place to call home. I felt it in my bones when the man talked like that. I know I cando this job right—all I need is a little tenant cooperation. And the thing is, there aren’t many rules at Cherry Plum. Nothing crazy. Rent is due by the fifth of every month, prolonged guest parking must be reported, no smoking, andno animals.

I’ve got everything under control—even C2 sent an email reporting that her boyfriend would be using the building’s parking every Tuesday and Thursday when he stays overnight. Yep, things are running smooth and efficient, except for B4.

I’d planned to give her one more warning and then send her an eviction notice for violating Cherry Plum regulations. However, Gran says we don’t kick out perfectly good-paying tenants. Wecommunicatewith them.

Well, I’ve tried communicating. It’s not working.

It’s the first day of Christmas break from my day job as an elementary P.E. teacher, and instead of listening to Christmas music or spending the day at the rink, I’m attempting to form a plan to get a lying, stubborn woman to follow the rules—rules she’s made clear that she is very aware of.

I’m certain I could rent her space without any trouble. But Gramps and Gran ran the apartments at a different time. A time when it was hard to collect rent, hard to get people in, and money was tight.

It isn’t tight anymore. Gran owns three more buildings—all of which I plan to buy from her one day. But Cherry Plum is our experiment, our trial run—at least, that’s what she keeps telling me. At this point, if I were to move forward without Gran’s blessing and attempt to evict B4, she’d be upset, and then she might never trust me to buy the building.

A ping from my phone distracts me from my apartment woes—I need a distraction before I pull all of my hair out. Only it’s Q, and he’s not here to distract me from the annoying woman in B4. He’s here to talk about it.

Quinten: How’s it going with your difficult tenant?

Me: Same.

Q works with me at the school. We teach together. He’s a good buddy. So by default, he gets the brunt of my frustration. And honestly, I think he’s enjoying the drama in my life right now.

Quinten: Taking action today?

Me: My family will be here for a Christmas card photoshoot in an hour. I can’t today.

Quinten: Bull. You’re avoiding. This is part of the job. Confront her already. Face to face.

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