We chatted for a few more minutes before they left, my dad promising to make my favorite meal next time if I promised to call the landlord. I didn’t need any more motivation than that. Fried potatoes were the key to my heart.
As I watched them pull out of my drive, I caught sight of something on the ground near the property’s mailboxes. Like someone had thrown a pile of trash out of their car window while they’d driven past. Irritated, I walked down the steps, carefully tiptoeing around nature’s confetti. The last thing I needed was a stick stabbing me through my bright orange socks.
It was the neighbor’s mail. The flap to his mailbox had been left down, and his mail scattered across the ground beneath it. Either the man rarely emptied his mailbox, or he was a big receiver of credit card offers and grocery sale fliers, because it was one heck of a pile.
I cocked my head, staring at it. To anyone watching me, I probably looked like an idiot who’d never seen a letter before, but I found it odd. I was sure it wasn’t uncommon for a postal worker to not shut the box all the way, but for it to all fall out?
I glanced back at his side of the house. I had no idea if he was home. His vehicle was parked out front, but I didn’t know if he had another one or a roommate whom he could be out with. I didn’t see any sign of a light on, but then again, I never did. He was either a vampire or had some seriously good blackout curtains.
Should I knock on his door and let him know? I chewed my lip, the idea of knocking on his door after his note was cringe-inducing. I chuckled, maybe I’d leave a note, myself, about it. It would serve him right.
Sighing, I shoved the thought out of my head. I wasn’t that type of person, no matter how much he deserved it. I walked up to his box, grumbling to myself when I had to step off my driveway and onto the grass.
I squatted, snatching each piece, and making a point not to examine any of them too closely as I piled them on my thighs. Messing with mail was frowned upon by most, and I didn’t want anyone accusing me of snooping through someone’s shit.
It didn’t take me long, but I could feel the cold damp of the grass soaking through to my feet. Lovely. “Farewell, beautiful fuzzy socks. I guess it wasn’t meant to be tonight.”
“Are you talking to yourself?”
“Shit!” I jumped from my delicate squat, sending the perfectly piled mail right back to the ground. Heart practically in my throat, I turned and looked at the woman standing directly across the street. “Oh my God, you scared me.”
She didn’t bother apologizing or replying at all. She had a sharp face with a pointed chin and a nose on the longer side. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and she had a swipe of vibrant plum eyeshadow visible above each eye that matched the pant suit she was rocking.
She lived in the single-family home across the street, so I’d seen her before, but this was the first time she’d ever spoken to me. From what I’d gathered, she lived there with her significant other and two children. Her lips tightened, and when she raised an eyebrow, I realized she’d asked me a question.
“Oh, yeah, I guess I was.” I forced a laugh, brushing my palms down my thighs. “I’m Madison, we moved in a few weeks ago. It’s nice to meet you.”
She didn’t move to approach me, and I certainly wasn’t going to walk across the street in my wet socks to shake her hand.
“Kathy Newman. I’d been planning on coming to welcome you to the neighborhood, but I didn’t know what hours your husband worked and didn’t want to impose.”
My entire body stiffened, and I had to take a deep breath. I couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, but I had a feeling she was fishing, trying to figure out why she’d yet to see a man here.
“No husband here, it’s just us. I work a lot, but we’re home most weekday evenings. You’re always welcome to pop by,” I offered, trying to keep my bitch face controlled.