Page 28 of The Ruse of Romancing
I scooped up the ceramic Dutch oven containing the unbaked loaf of bread and straightened from the car, using my hip to close the door. The pot in my arms quickly grew heavy and awkward as I headed up the driveaway. The clouds that had moved in this afternoon decided that moment was the perfect chance to unleash a cool drizzle, the rain making me shiver as I did my best not to drop my treasures.
I was nearly to the garage door when I realized I’d made a critical error. I’d forgotten to open the garage door while I was still in the car.
Muttering under my breath, I set the ceramic Dutch oven on the ground next to the garage, hoping the cold and wet wouldn’t ruin the bread inside. Yes, the pot had a lid, but I didn’t know how waterproof it was, and I’d heard all kinds of horror stories from friends about how temperamental sourdough could be. Had I just ruined the loaf inside because Mason exclusively made friends with people who only parked in the middle of driveways?
It took a couple of tries to get the garage door panel to accept my code. I had just begun to doubt if I had the right numbers when it finally decided to cooperate, slowly opening the door with a gentle whir of machinery.
As I waited, I heard the door of Mason’s unit open, followed by voices.
“No, don’t follow us out, Mason. It’s raining and we’d hate for you to get wet.” The voice of an elderly man called before the door closed, presumably with Mason inside.
So, he wasn’t entertaining yet another lady friend. That was a surprising change. And knowing the garage was blocked by who I assumed to be the elderly couple that owned this place, my righteous indignation deflated some. Maybe I couldn’t blame Mason for every inconvenience I’d experienced since arriving. Just most of them.
Wishing the garage door would open faster so I could slip inside my side of the duplex before I had to meet someone else, I bent down to pick up the ceramic Dutch oven. As I straightened, I saw an elderly couple shuffling their way to the car in the driveway. The woman seemed to be struggling to walk, so the man had her arm looped through his and was helping steady her. They both had white hair and were wearing matching blue collared shirts, though the woman’s had small flowers on it.
The man looked up to see me and I gave a small wave around the pot in my arms, wanting to be friendly without encouraging conversation. I just wanted to get inside where it was dry and warm.
Apparently, my wave had been too enthusiastic because the couple changed directions, walking toward me and stopping just inside the garage out of the rain.
“Well, hello! You must be Danielle. We were hoping to meet you when we visited, but no one answered when we knocked earlier,” the woman said, her steady voice contrasting with her physical appearance as she leaned heavily on the man who I assumed was her husband.
I wanted to rush her inside and offer her a seat, something that battled with my desire to be left alone so I could make dinner and get back to writing before my inspiration disappeared.
“Hi! Yes, I’m Danielle, well most people call me Dani.” I tried to offer my hand to shake but recognized the awkwardness of the gesture with the heavy pot in my arms and returned my hand to holding the pot more securely.
“We’re James and Carol Miller, the owners of this place. Sorry we haven’t been able to meet you before now. My hip has been acting up with all this rain.” The woman gave me a friendly smile, which emphasized the lines filling her face, hinting at a life well lived that included a fair amount of time outside in the elements.
“That and the fall you took while gardening didn’t help things,” the man said, earning a swat on his arm from his wife.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” I said. “The duplex is lovely.”
Maybe this was my chance to share some of my concerns regarding Mason’s social life, though that feedback felt more like something to share in an email and not face-to-face with his grandparents.
“That’s what we like to hear,” James said, waving at the house behind me. “We bought this place on a whim and haven’t regretted it for a minute. We’ve gotten to meet so many interesting people because of it.”
“And it’s kept Mason in the area. It’s so nice to have at least one of our grandsons close. Grey insists on living in Utah, though I’m so glad he met Audrey. She seems absolutely wonderful.”
I nodded, trying to follow their conversation without dropping anything in my arms, even as the Dutch oven grew heavier with each passing moment.
“If we could just find a nice girl for Mason,” Carol said, her voice filled with exasperation, “it might encourage him to actually put down roots.”
“Now Carol, Dani doesn’t want to hear about our woes,” James said, patting her hand and starting to steer her to the car.
“Of course not. Where are my manners? It looks like you’re in the middle of a project and we won’t keep you. Just wanted to say hi and to let you know if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask Mason. He’s done an amazing job managing this place. We’d be lost without him.”
I forced a smile and mumbled something unintelligible, hoping they’d take it as agreement. I really needed to get inside before I dropped something.
“Oh,” Carol said, pausing in her steps and turning to look at me. “I know Mason said something about updating you, but we’re so sorry about the whole internet and Scooter cutting the cord issue. I’m so glad the company will be out Wednesday to fix things.”
“That’s good to know. I hadn’t heard from Mason about that,” I said, trying not to wince as I considered staying here for two more days without any connection to the outside world. Given my writing goals, that might be an issue. Though it could also lead to some crazy productivity without the “Cheaper Than Therapy” thread to distract me.
“We’ll discount your final bill for the inconvenience. We’re so grateful for your understanding,” Carol said as James patiently waited for her to stop speaking so he could finish helping her to the car.
I exchanged goodbyes with the Millers, making sure they got into their car okay before I entered the house, the ceramic Dutch oven heavy in my arms. I gratefully deposited everything on the counter, shaking my arms out in relief. As I started the oven preheating and got the rest of the sourdough supplies put away, I couldn’t help but wonder how my flirt of a neighbor could have come from such nice grandparents.
Chapter 15
Mason
