Page 2 of The Most Dearest
“Well, they all look taken,” Cameron said sadly, as his girl in red jumped up on the doofus-looking guy next to her. “We should get out there more. You split up with Geraldine a year ago, and I've been single forever. We’re two good-looking guys. We’re young. We should be out on the town.” Out on the town. Was he 80 years old?
“Injury incoming,” he murmured when the older guy and pink-shirt lady’s partner were wobbling awkwardly toward the house with what looked like an old sofa.
“Let's go help,” I declared. “You can introduce yourself to red-top chick.”
We made our way over to the group, offering to help with what I now saw was an antique chaise. It was in pretty good condition too, a great choice for houses with this historical aesthetic.
After plonking the chaise in the living room, we returned to the yard, and I offered official introductions. Pink lady, Cordelia apparently, was bubbly and chatty, while Harrison was more reserved. I preferred reserved to mouthy douche. It was nice to have younger neighbors in the street, which was mostly populated by people over 50. This couple could become good friends. I’d had a lot of fun renovating my house and theirs was in rough shape. I could definitely offer some guidance if they wanted it. I was a qualified carpenter but two years ago opened my own lumber yard. It was still physically hard work, but my dad had been a carpenter all his working life and now in retirement, his body was a broken mess. With my business, I could work physically for as long as I could, and then move toward administration when I was older, bringing in younger blood to manage the labor.
Later in the interaction, Nettie had bustled over, nearly knocking over one of the Shakespeare sisters with her enthusiasm. “Nettie,” I scolded her. I glared at Cameron. He’d obviously forgotten to shut my front door, leaving the world’s most adventurous dog to seek a new side quest. He shrugged. Nettie was a good dog, but like all Labs, had zero impulse control. The woman, Juliet I think, laughed and Cordelia reached over and patted Nettie on the head. A dog lover; even better. They’d never complain about living next door to Nettie and may even be okay with feeding her if I went away.
We offered to continue to help, but Harrison refused and thanked us without any real gratitude. He was kind of cold. Ok, I guess I’ll go fuck myself, I thought. We were inside cracking a beer when Cameron wandered back over to the window. “She’salready got a Cameron, mate,” I said. “But I guess if they broke up, you could make a move, and she wouldn’t have to learn a new name.”
“He looks like a dick. Disgrace to the name,” Cameron retorted. I laughed. Other Cameron, Miranda’s Cameron, seemed like a nice guy. Far friendlier than Harrison.
“What’s the plan tonight?” Cam asked, finally moving away from the window.
“Samuel’s coming over for a drink. Vanessa’s working, so he’s keen to do something, even if it’s just TV and beer.” Samuel was another mate. He was a police officer with the local PD, which is where he met Vanessa. She was also a cop, and they were a great couple, but their hours were horrific. If he was on nights, she seemed to be on days. I don’t know how they managed it, but it did mean that we saw Sam a lot, given that they were never free at the same time.
“Uber Eats?” Cam questioned.
“Unless you’re offering to cook, yeah.” None of us were great cooks. Vanessa was the only one in the crew with any kind of cooking skills, but it seemed sexist and lazy to rely on her when she was present, so we did a lot of delivered meals. During the week, I cobbled meals together, but nothing gourmet or that I really enjoyed. I basically ate to survive, until I could go home to Mom and Dad’s for a decent meal.
I stretched, feeling hunched since I’d carried the chaise. I did a lot of heavy lifting at work, so I was obsessed with stretching to avoid injury. I sat back and waited for Samuel to arrive, thinking quietly about the goddess next door. This could be interesting.
Chapter 3: Cordelia - Mt Vesuvius
Out, damned spot!
Macbeth, William Shakespeare
I loved our new house. We’d been here for two months, and I was still playing around with the layout. We needed to do a lot of work, but the bare bones were structurally sound and would be easily modernized. There was no point painting yet because we didn’t know which walls would remain, but I did have fun just messing around with things. Harrison was also eager to contribute, though he didn’t venture far from white and cream. We had different tastes, but I was confident we could join forces and create a nest that was a mix of the both of us. Pinterest had become my new best friend, and I spent an embarrassing amount of time scrolling through it on my breaks and at night. In fact, I was flicking through it now even though I was due to leave for work in 15 minutes. Shit!
“Shouldn’t you be moving a bit faster?” Harrison asked, straightening his collar in the mirror. “Yep,” I replied, spritzing on some perfume. I loved my job, but in this industry, we were expected to be glamorous at all times. Just once I wished I could leave with a bare face and nothing on but sweats and joggers. Harrison had to be equally as groomed, but he loved it. Even on his days off, he’d do his skincare routine and style his hair with gel. I looked at his reflection. Ew. He had a massive zit in the middle of his forehead, bigger than I’d ever seen on a human.
“God, make sure you squeeze that before you go,” I said. We all got pimples. That came with being an adult human, but he couldn’t serve people with that beacon glowing on his head. It was a huge yellow bulb, so close to the surface of the skin that it looked like it would burst if someone breathed on it. No onewould look him in the eye today. They’d look in his third eye. I’d rather have a red mark than that yellow balloon on my head.
“No, it might scar,” he replied simply, combing the sides of his hair.
“Okay, your choice. I might be late tonight. I have an afternoon client visit at the ass end of the world”
He murmured an acknowledgment but was now distracted by the pimple. Making a grab for my face powder, he searched around for an applicator brush. Hell no.
“You’re not using my brush. I just cleaned them all. You can use the powder but use a cotton tip or something. You’re much darker than me so it won’t even match.”
This man was so vain. Most of the time I didn’t care, but sometimes it was a bit annoying that he took longer to get ready than I did. If we were going out at night, I had to virtually book a spot in my bathroom in advance.
“Fine,” he grunted out, now rummaging in the drawer for some cotton tips.
“Bye,” I called over my shoulder. “Have a great day. Don’t kill anyone with the wrong meds and don’t become involved with Jesse Pinkman!”
The last thing I heard was his laughter as I closed the front door. We had a very easy relationship. Very few arguments, and if we did argue, we sorted it quickly and moved on. Neither of us were particularly stubborn, though I could dig in if I really felt wronged, and Harrison often found it difficult to lower his pride.
I was halfway to my car when Damon jogged across the lawn. He was such a friendly neighbor and was so helpful when we discussed our house plans with him. He was a carpenter, so he knew way more than we did. Harrison wasn’t as friendly withhim as I was, but he was always slow to warm up to people. He was a private person, but when he let you in, he let you all the way in.
“Hey Cordelia,” he greeted. He always used my full name. Even my parents didn’t use it. I smiled, fully appreciating the form-fitting t-shirt he was wearing.
“Good morning! Busy day ahead?”
