Page 9 of Emma and the Elf Next Door

“I’ve got it!”

I take a seat back on my couch, a third glass of wine in hand (she may be the Grinch, but she knows excellent wine) and pick up my laptop. A quick Amazon search finds me what I’m looking for, and as I enter my PayPal details and give thanks to the gods of next-day delivery, I let out a maniacal chuckle.

She may think she’s got the best of me with the fancy ear plugs and this oh-so-painfully long version of the world’s worst movie, but come tomorrow morning, revenge will be mine. And it will be so, so, so, so sweet.

*****

The next morning rushes at me with the blinding headache of a man who’d finished a bottle of wine by himself, while lying on the couch with useless ear plugs in his ears, listening to the longest movie in the history of the world.

Pure torture.

At first, I’d tried to drown it out by watching my own holiday movie,Die Hard.A Christmas classic. But every time John McClane blew something up or let out a funny quip, the devil next door would crank up the volume of her movie. Then I’d do the same, and so on, back and forth, until my head was about to explode and I’d given in. I’d turned off my favourite movie andlet her win this battle, knowing what I have up my sleeve for today.

And speaking of, I spring out of bed, wincing as my feet touch the floor and jolt the hungover neurons in my brain. Moving more slowly, I down two paracetamol tablets in the kitchen while en route to see if my Amazon delivery has arrived.

“Bingo!”

I peer through my front window, finding a huge box with the Amazon smile waiting for me, delivered as promised. With a quick check to make sure my she-devil neighbour isn’t around, I drag my package in through the door and open it with a sense of anticipation.

“It’s just as I imagined!” I say as I unpack my goodies. Yet as I lay the items out at my feet, I feel the first twinge of unease.

Is this just a little bit too mean?I question myself in the light of a new day. When I’d ordered them last night, I’d been well, tipsy, but also furious. The extended version of Colin Firth bumbling his way through a romantic exchange had tipped me over the edge. And now I’m wondering if this is a bit too much.

“I’ll bake some cookies to soften the blow,” I tell the empty Amazon box in front of me. “She liked the ones I made yesterday; I’ll just whip up another batch and then leave them all together for her.”

With this decision made, my guilt assuaged, I pull the ingredients out of the pantry to make my simple but decadent Christmas sugar cookies. It takes no time to have them baking in the oven, and once they’re done, I’ve showered and am dressed for the day. Ready for a little payback.

I take half a dozen cooled cookies, coated in my special cinnamon sugar concoction, and place them in a box. A red box this time. With this done, I scribble off another note, so she’ll know exactly what these gifts mean and who left them for her, and I place them by my front door. Peering outside to check ifthe coast is clear, I rear back in surprise to find her—the Grinch herself—in front of her house, dressed in a pair of tiny mint green running shorts, a matching (also small) running top and a mint green visor to shield her face. Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a neat ponytail and she looks—from the back, at least—incredible.

“This will not do,” I mutter, tearing my eyes from her, only to have them dart back without my permission. “Not at all.”

Now she’s stretching, her long toned bronzed legs on full display in front of me, and I bite back a groan.

“She’s evil, remember…” I remind myself, my breath catching as she turns her face slightly towards me, allowing me my first glimpse of her profile. Her face is unexpectedly delicate, with a small straight nose that dips up slightly at the end, and smooth cheeks with high cheekbones.I wonder what colour her eyes are?

I duck down as she turns towards my house, her eyes narrowed in contemplation. Is she picturing another night of torture? Another night withLove Actuallyup at full volume, ruining my Christmas cheer? I hold my breath and wait, watching as she tightens her ponytail before gracefully taking off in a jog down our driveway and out of sight.

“Phew.” I breathe out a long breath, gathering my thoughts. My heartbroken, annoying, obnoxious neighbour is…beautiful.

How inconvenient. This will not do.

I shake these new disturbing thoughts from my head and gather my goodies into my arms. Now that I know she’ll gone for a while, I take my time arranging them in front of her door just so. My neighbour may be gorgeous, but she’s also ruining my sense of peace and quiet. She needs to be taught a lesson on how to be neighbourly. And not so annoying!

Once I’m done arranging everything just so, I stand back and admire my handy work.

This should do it. This may just do the trick.

I won’t ever have to listen toLove Actually.Ever again!

CHAPTER 5

Emma

Why is the last five hundred metres always the hardest?

It’s the same every day. I cruise for the first three kilometres, start grumbling for the next one and then when I round the bend, my house in the distance, every step is a struggle. One would think that if you run every single day, it should get easier. But it doesn’t.

Especially today.

---