Page 8 of Merriment and Mayhem
He held up his keys. “Of course we will.”
With no small amount of reluctance, Everleigh tugged her hand free and stood. “Thanks for, you know, rescuing me.Again.”
Griffin flashed his dimples, and she could swear her knees wobbled. “Anytime.”
She quickly thanked Chen and Miller and followed Frank and Gloria across the street to the Buick Lucerne parked in their drive.
“Shame about that ladder, Everleigh,” Frank said, unlocking the doors. “It’s going to be strange not to see the place lit up this year.”
Shielding her eyes from the setting sun, Everleigh turned and stared forlornly up at the house half-decked with lights.
“Yeah,” she murmured.
It really would.
“I’ll be fine,” Everleigh said for what felt like the umpteenth time since leaving urgent care. “You don’t need to come and cook for me, Gloria, I promise.”
A mild strain was all it was, the nurse practitioner had said. With rest and ice, Everleigh would be good as new in a week, two weeks tops, as long as she kept it splinted and avoided putting any additional stress on it.
“We’re just worried about you,” Frank said, making a left onto Juniper Lane. “All alone in that house, especially this time of year.”
“You know,” she teased, “it’s not really any different from being alone in my apartment this time of year, right?”
“No, because that’s even worse,” he grumbled. “Don’t you get lonely?”
Everleigh scoffed out a disbelieving laugh. These two were worse than Grandma Dangerfield with their mother-henning. The concern was sweet but unnecessary. “I do have friends, Frank.”
“But are theygoodfriends?” he prodded. “Friends you see more than once a month for coffee?”
She must’ve waited a beat too long to answer because Gloria tutted loudly.
“Everleigh—”
“They’re ...we’rebusy,” Everleigh stressed. “We’re all busy.”
Her friends were all either married or in serious relationships; a few even had kids. Get-togethers were no longer spur-of-the-moment the way they once were, but rather planned meticulously weeks, if not months, in advance. But Everleigh understood. Life happened. And her life? Her life was good, leaving little room for her to complain. She had a roof over her head and a job she liked and ... she was content. Just occasionally, when she was in a funk, the kindof melancholy mood that had an awful tendency to creep up on her around holidays and birthdays and special occasions, Everleigh would wish formore. As the pages on the calendar seemed to pass by quicker every year, Everleigh’s yearning for that undefined thing grew.
If there was a solution, she knew it was down to her taking charge and doing something to change her life. But most days, she really was content. And content was easy. Content was safe. Change, on the other hand ...
“You work from home; you could die in your apartment, and who would even know?”
“Gloria!” Frank threw his wife a horrified look from the driver’s seat. Everleigh was sure her face looked similar.
“Morbid as the thought may be, it’s true.” Gloria crossed her arms. “Everleigh could be rotting in her apartment for God knows how long before anyone would think to look for her.”
“Someone would check on me.” She was sure of it. It might take a few days, butsomeonewould look eventually. She frowned. Ninety percent sure of it.
Gloria huffed. “If you’re sick, who even brings you soup?”
Soup? Everleigh shrugged. “I’d probably just DoorDash it, to be honest.”
At that, Frank scoffed. “The same way you’d probably order a Lyft if you needed someone to take you to urgent care, I bet.”
Everleigh kept her mouth shut and Frank groaned. “I was kidding, Everleigh! A Lyft? Really?”
“I swear,” she stressed. “I am perfectly capable of taking care of—”
Gloria gasped, and it was a good thing Everleigh was wearing her seat belt because Frank slammed on the brakes.
