Page 49 of You'll Love it Here
On the other end of the line comes the sound of someone freaking out. He’s probably trying to finalize some big presentation at the eleventh hour, and his computer crapped out. Those days feel so far away.
I close the door behind me, locking away the sounds of my old life.
I pull out my phone and confirm that the group chat is still a ghost town. Other than Olivia privately asking me how my Lana thing is going (again), there’s nothing from my old life in my phone.
But I can recognize Corbin’s voice anywhere.
Interstitial
Subject: Electrical Inspection appointment
Dear Mona,
I’m going to have to cancel the electrician appointment tomorrow. I’m booked in the morning, and it looks like I’ll have to drive to Lethbridge to meet a guy. Let’s give it the old rain check.
Sincerely,
Carmen Thurston
Fanta See
As soon as I make it to the first-floor hallway, I’m greeted by a chaotic seascape of packages like some precarious modern art display. The package box in the lobby is overflowing, and apparently the wreckage has made it all the way to Carmen’s door now.
It’s only been a day since I was last in this hallway visiting Norm, yet this is what Carmen has accomplished.
My irritation grows with each step I weave through the clusterfuck of a hall and—
Shit.
I almost lose my footing as I stumble on a sneaky package of Carmen’s.
My knuckles wrap furiously against his door, yet I manage to keep the bite out of my voice as I call sweetly, “Carmen, it’s Mona! Can we chat a sec?”
A full minute passes. I know he has to be in there. Unfortunately, I’ve become somewhat cognizant of this man’s routine. His breakfast hour at the diner is up, and his rusted Ford pickup truck is still in the parkade.
If Jamie can’t finish up the inspections tomorrow, the viewings Lana wants to arrange can’t happen. And if all these packages are still here, the viewings won’t go well anyway.
This whole arrangement was meant to show Lana what I could do. If I can’t wrangle a few unruly tenants, why would she trust me to represent her business?
This is Carmen’s fault, not mine. All his avoidance. All his bullcrap. It all piles up like the packages against the wall. I shuffle one of the cardboard boxes into my arms and return to his door. “Carmen, I know you’re in there!” I knock with my free hand hard enough to shake the door and rattle some old dust embedded in the hall walls. “I have a special delivery for you!”
Finally, a sound creaks behind his door. It nudges open only as far as the security chain allows. He peers through the gap, his gaze wary and uncertain. “Hey there, Mona.” He smiles at me, calm and unbothered, as if his composure alone could dissolve my anger. “You can just leave that in the package box.”
“Package box is full.” I hold the box out to wedge into the gap in his door. “These will have to go in your place.”
Maybe it’s my expression that shows I’m not willing to back down, but he unhooks the chain and holds out his arms to accept the box. A wave of his Old Spice scent reaches me, and the familiarity of it hits me like a brick wall—it’s the same deodorant my dad used. Carmen steps back slightly, dropping the package onto a nearby table. I inhale deeply, steadying myself as I try to regain my composure.
“I’m also going to have to ask you to collect all the stray packages,” I continue, with a little crack in my voice.
Carmen shifts from one foot to the next. “Oh, right, sure. I’ll get on that when I—”
“I need all the packages removed right now,” I cut in, voice curling with ire.
His gaze locks with mine, his fingers twitching restlessly against his thighs. For a brief moment, I wonder if I’ve pushed too far and if this is going to get ugly. Then, without a word, he steps into the hallway and shuts the door behind him with swift finality.
“You know, Mona,” he hiss-whispers. “I don’t think people around here like how you’re getting up in our personal business.”
“I don’t care about your personal business,” I respond as serenely as I can. “I’m trying to keep this building in order for Irene.”
