Page 42 of Fight Or Flight

Just fine.

nine

Natalie was sitting on the floor in front of the buffet in the parlour. She was going through the list of items, and prepacking them for pickup. It was Saturday, which meant she had five pickups that day, two of which had already come, but it also meant she was finally getting some help. Chelsea was on her way, thank God. After encountering ten Monroes, she was ready for a break.

She finished wrapping up the eighth—yes, eighth!—tea set in newspaper, carefully placed it in a cardboard box, marked the name on the top, and pushed it aside. At least it gave her something to focus on instead of Ethan.

The eight tea sets would be collected over the next two days, along with several pieces of jewellery, a recipe book, three quilts, a violin, a box of tomato seeds, many weapons, and a weird mustard-yellow figurine of an old woman holding a fish.

Natalie pulled the hideous figurine off the top of the buffet and held it up in the light. Why did people want crap like this? The knick-knack would be bad enough on its own, but then you’dneed a shelf to put it on, and cleaning supplies to keep the dust off, and a shelf to keep the cleaning supplies on, and then you’d have to clean the cleaning supplies shelf.

Ugh.

It seemed like a horrible waste of time. She’d lived the last ten years with nothing, and she was just fine.

She shook her head and shoved the offensive thing into a box. Then her mind drifted back to Ethan for the tenth time that morning, and she wondered whether he had stuff like that in his house. She imagined his house would be full of comfortable furniture, books, pets, and plants, with enormous windows that looked out into gardens he carefully tended. And she was willing to bet that if someone gave him a figurine as a gift, he’d keep it forever and take care of it.

She wanted to see his home. Wanted to be invited into his life. He was just so calm and genuine and solid. When he’d put his arm around her at that cliff and held her tight, she nearly begged him not to let go. She wanted him to lay her down on the soft ground and press his body into hers under the canopy of trees. Replace some of the bad memories of Mapleton with some good.

But he definitely wasn’t the type to invite someone into his life temporarily, as was clear from his relationship with Lindsay. He should have treated Lindsay as a one-night thing, then moved on.

But he hadn’t. And that was very telling.

When he first told her he walked away without confronting her, she thought he was weak for not sticking up for himself. But the more she thought about it—and she thought about it a lot—the more she realized that wasn’t true at all. It was easy to tell an asshole they were an asshole. But it took serious resolve to show kindness to someone who deserved none.

Still, there had to be a better way of going about it.

Natalie admonished herself again for thinking about Ethan, taped up the box with the old woman inside, and wrote the name across the top in Sharpie. She picked it up and brought it to the foyer next to the other boxes waiting to be picked up. Then did the same with the eight tea set boxes.

She put a check mark next to the names to show she’d packed them up. She only had a few more things to locate and pack. Chelsea wanted to go through the house and see whether there was anything she wanted that hadn’t been claimed before the house and its remaining contents went to an auction.

The only big hurdle left to jump was the cats.

She’d ordered cages that trapped animals inside as soon as they passed through, as well as three bags of cat treats. She set them up in the kitchen before going to bed, but when she woke up that morning and checked, they weren’t there. The treats remained completely untouched.

She suspected there were too many mice in the house keeping the cats well fed. They didn’t care at all about treats. So she got on her phone and ordered fifteen mousetraps to set around the house, as well as six cans of tuna. If she could kill and dispose of the mice fast enough, the cats might take the bait. If that didn’t work, she’d have to rethink the entire plan.

She’d just finished up when her attention was snagged by a flash of red through the front window. The next Monroe wasn’t due for another half hour, so Natalie figured it must be Chelsea’s little rustbucket pulling up.

She dropped her phone on the counter and walked to the door. When she grabbed hold of the handle to swing it open, a little rap on the outside of the door stopped her. She could see Chelsea through the window, still at the trunk of the car, pulling out a duffle bag.

What the hell made that knocking noise?

She pulled the door, looked down, and came face to face with a boy.

He was little, like only a few feet tall. She had no idea how old he was. He was wearing a tiny blue baseball cap, a little T shirt with a skateboarding dog on it, grey shorts, and blue running shoes over striped socks that were pulled up almost to his knees.

“Ben!” Chelsea called, slamming the trunk. “I told you to wait for me.” She came up the stairs carrying a backpack and a pillow, both covered in Spiderman.

Natalie stood frozen in shock. Did Chelsea have a son? Impossible. She was way too young. Maybe she worked as a nanny in between classes to pay the bills?

“Do you live here?” Ben asked.

Natalie stared down at him. He had blond hair poking out of his hat and blue eyes. The same blue as Chelsea’s. In fact, his entire face looked like hers, right down to the deep dimples in both cheeks.

“Do you?” he asked again.

“I . . . no.”

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