Page 7 of By Your Side

Her blue eyes are hooded as she meets my gaze.

“That’s a really strong cleaner. I recommend you get a respirator so you’re not breathing in the fumes. And I heard about your mouse problem. You should use it when you’re cleaning up the droppings. There’s also a really good cleaner that will take away any smell.”

Scanning the shelf, I reach in behind her. A soft citrusy scent fills the air around me as I grab the other cleaner and hand it to her. She smiles at me, a small smile but it punches me in the gut.

Mrs. Choi was wrong. She’s not just beautiful, she’s absolutely stunning.

“Thank you again.”

She doesn’t turn to look back at me as she leaves the aisle, but I can’t stop myself from watching the empty space, that sweet tangy scent lingering in her wake.

four

Adeline

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I examine my handiwork. The floor gleams with how spotless it is. It’s still in rough shape, but at least I can walk on it and feel confident I’m not going to pick up some sort of fungus or infection.

My phone rings, the number for the moving pod company popping up on the screen. Pressing my lips together, I inhale a deep breath before answering. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Houghton, this is Scarlet from Easy Podz. I wanted to touch base with you about your moving pod.” Her voice carries that fake customer service friendliness.

Taking another deep breath, I respond cooly. “Please tell me you have an exact date on when my pod will arrive.”

I’ve been at the inn for five days. The dirtiness of the house made that decision easy, but the other deciding factor was the fact that I have nothing aside from a small duffle of clothes and toiletries.

“Yes, it should be there within the next thirty minutes or so. We apologize for the delay and have reimbursed you twenty percent of the fee. We also want to comp an extra two weeks at your location before we pick it up.”

My shoulders lower, and I thank her before ending the call.

Slipping on my shoes, I grab the gardening gloves I bought from Hank’s and head outside. The front garden, if you can call it that, is overgrown. Everything about the property is overgrown and neglected.

Chuckling, I realize it looks how I feel.

Shaking my head, I dig into the weeds. Scott and I used to tackle yard work together every Sunday before sitting on our deck to enjoy dinner and a glass of wine. It was a tradition I kept until I moved. Even over the winter, I turned on the deck heater and bundle under a blanket with a cup of tea, just to feel that connection to my husband.

It’s a tradition I hope to carry on here once my deck is safe enough to use.

A rumbling distracts me, relief rolling through me when I see the flatbed truck carrying the moving pod I packed my life into pulling to a stop on the overgrown driveway. The door swings open, a bearded man half-hanging himself out the door to scan the yard.

“Where do you want this?” he calls out.

Pointing to an open spot near the house, I watch as he drives around and positions the truck to place the crate.

The peaceful serenity of my new home is disrupted by the shrill creaking of the mechanism as it moves the pod back and lowers it to the ground.

The driver hops out of the truck with a clipboard in hand. He saunters over, a cloud of cologne and cigarettes surrounding him. “Sign here acknowledging the delivery and the pickup date, which you can see is a month from now.”

I sign quickly, grateful we are outside so some of the smoky, cologne-filled haze around him dissipates. He moves quickly once everything is signed, tearing off a copy for me before he gets his truck put back together.

“FYI, your driveway was almost impassable. Might wanna deal with that if you have more deliveries coming.” With that, he shuts his door and he’s on his way.

Watching as he disappears, the tall grass bouncing back after being driven on, I frown. Glancing at the barn, where it sits on the opposite end of the yard site, it stands imposing over the corner. I haven’t explored inside. Hopefully, there will be a ride-on mower there for me to use. With the state of the property, it will be a miracle if there is a functioning one.

Out of every building on the property, the barn is the only one that doesn’t need significant repairs. It’s structurally sound, at least. The outside needs a coat of paint, but the wood is in good shape, some boards look newer than others showing that repairs have been done recently. Flipping the latch, I put my entire body weight into opening the doors. They squeal over the rails. Another thing to add to the growing list of things to deal with.

The interior of the barn is fairly open. There are three stalls and an enclosed room on the left. On the right is an open area for tie stalls and a large pen with a door to the outside. I test that door, happy when it opens smoothly and quietly into a mid-sized paddock.

It’s a relief that the barn needs minimal work in comparison to the house. At least this one building only needs a little grease here and there to function well enough for the time being.

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