Page 10 of The Ruse of Romancing
Lucy:
I promise to improve my nightlife when my boyfriend can walk unaided again. [saluting emoji]
Avery:
Eric doesn’t give me deadlines...
And no, of course there’s no man involved. Unless you count Mr. Darcy. I was reading and didn’t realize how late it was...
Lucy:
Avery! Pride and Prejudice marathon—you and me and a big bowl of popcorn. You in?! We can give Dani a play-by-play... does that count as exciting nightlife??
Knowing the chat would continue in this vein for a while, I acknowledged my need for sleep and dragged my bags into the bedroom, pulling out the essentials. I plugged my phone into the outlet next to the dresser, changed into a sweatshirt and fresh leggings, and brushed my teeth before collapsing into bed. I had a million things to do if this trip was going to turn into the productive oasis I needed. But all of that could wait until morning. For now, I just needed sleep.
The next morning I woke to the sound of a lawn mower. I did my best to ignore it, but the persistent sound combined with my growling stomach forced me from the bed. Peeking through the blinds, I noticed a lanky man riding a lawn mower around the small yard. Based on the pictures I’d seen, I wouldn’t have thought the yard was big enough for a riding lawn mower but decided not to question it. Shuffling into the kitchen, I opened the cupboards praying I would find some food to tide me overuntil I could get dressed and head into town. All that greeted me were a couple of expired condiments in the fridge and a tin of instant coffee.
“Looks like I’ll be making a grocery store run sooner rather than later,” I muttered to myself.
I got ready quickly, showering, running a brush through my hair, and applying some mascara. Scrounging through the odd mix of clothing I’d packed, I finally settled on a pair of shorts and a tank top, snagging a sweatshirt to throw over the top just in case.
I was pondering what I wanted to purchase for breakfast when I opened the garage door only to find the flaw with my plan: a giant white truck with the words “Scooter’s Lawn Service” on the side parked in the middle of the driveaway and blocking both garages.
I stood dumbfounded, my stomach growling in protest as I processed what I was seeing. Apparently, Veronica wasn’t the only one in this town with the inability to choose a side when parking. A bright green piece of paper on the garage floor caught my attention.
Picking it up, I found a note written in a blocky, masculine hand that had been slipped under the garage door at some point during the night.
Dear neighbor,
I tried to warn you last night, but Scooter comes every Sunday at eight in the morning to mow. He is incapable of parking anywhere other than the center of the driveway. If you’d listened to me, this note would be unnecessary. Hopefully youdon’t have any squeezing or modeling to do this morning. Don’t feed Scooter or he’ll never leave.
- Mason
I snorted, not loving the condescending vibe of the note. Mason definitely could have tried harder to warn me last night, maybe even encouraged me to park on the street. Then his words from the night before came back to me, and I smacked my forehead. Hehadtried to get me to park on the street, but I’d been too busy assuming it was to accommodate his next conquest. In my defense, it was an assumption he hadn’t done much to correct. He still could have tried harder, maybe even knocked on my door this morning, but it was too late to do anything about it now. I was trapped.
On the plus side, there was no danger of me accidentally feeding Scooter. I couldn’t even feed myself at the moment. I glanced at my watch. It looked like Scooter had been mowing for about an hour. He had to be close to finishing. The yard was tiny. I was genuinely surprised he’d been going for as long as he had. Best guess he’d be done soon, and I’d be on my way to the grocery store followed by a trip to the beach. I’d read somewhere that working in and around water could cure creative blocks, and I was more than happy to test that theory.
Maybe reading through my outline while listening to the sound of the waves would be the magic cure I’d been searching for.
Pleased with my plan, I closed the garage and headed back into the house. Figuring I might as well use the time to settle into the duplex, I quickly unpacked my luggage, dismayed to realize I’d packed way too many t-shirts and skimped on the underwear for some reason. Unless I was going to spend all day every day on the beach in a swimsuit, I was going to need to remedy thatASAP. While I worked, the mower gave a small stutter, giving me hope Scooter was almost done, but it soon revved back to full volume, creating a monotonous soundtrack while I worked.
Eventually, the sound of the lawn mower faded, but I hadn’t heard Scooter’s truck drive away. Opening the front window blinds, I looked out to find the truck still in the driveway, no Scooter in sight.
Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to make a shopping list, I found a pen and some paper in the desk of the bedroom I wasn’t sleeping in and got to work on my list. After adding the essentials, primarily more underwear and snack foods to keep me fueled while I worked, I was ready to go.
Except Scooter’s truck was still there. Maybe I could ask him nicely to move his truck. The lawn mower was loaded into the back, so he must be working on another project somewhere else in the yard.
I slipped on a pair of sandals and stepped out onto the front porch, breathing in the crisp, pine-scented air. Glancing around, I couldn’t see Scooter anywhere. After circling the entire duplex, Scooter remained elusive, though I did find a cut cable next to my side of the duplex. I hoped it wasn’t anything important, though I had no way of knowing. I’d also managed to startle several birds and squirrels, but hadn’t spotted the lanky man wearing a baseball hat and t-shirt.
My frustration grew as I realized two things: One, Scooter was nowhere to be found and there was no way to know how soon he’d be moving his truck. And two, Mason had known Scooter was coming and hadn’t sufficiently warned me how long it would take him to complete the yard work. The next time I saw the not-so-helpful caretaker, I had a few thoughts to share, some of which might be accompanied by expletives if I didn’t get foodsoon.
I pulled out my phone to tell the cousins my plight, only to find I once again didn’t have service. Figuring I must have ventured too far from my side of the duplex for my phone to reach the wifi, I went back inside. But the phone remained disconnected.
“That’s odd,” I muttered to myself. I pulled out the information binder to see if it said anything about the wifi being spotty. All it said was to unplug the router if it was having difficulties.
When that still didn’t fix the problem, the cut cable outside came to mind and dread pooled in my stomach. Was it possible Scooter had cut the internet cable while he worked? Surely, if the man did yard work here weekly, he’d know to avoid any cables, right?
I shook my head to dispel the possibility. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet. Hopefully, there was another, easier explanation.
