Page 18 of Grinchland
I shook my head as I pulled into the driveway. Once I’d parked my car in the garage, I gathered my things and got out. On days that I had late meetings, Mrs. Bloomburg from across the street came over to take care of Isabelle. She was a modest woman, and I wondered what she thought of the holiday monstrosity next door.
I shifted my briefcase to my other hand so I could open the back door. Once in the mudroom, I kicked off my shoes, hung my keys up, and then set my briefcase on the bench by the door.
“I’m home,” I called out as I rolled my shoulders and then my neck. When no one answered, I made my way into the kitchen. The dishes were done and there was a faint smell of Italian seasoning lingering in the air. My mouth watered, wondering what Mrs. Bloomburg had made for dinner. She always fixed me a plate and left it in the fridge for when I got home.
“Daddy!” Isabelle’s voice had me turning. She was running toward me from the dark living room. “Come see this.” Her little hand found mine and she started tugging.
I let her drag me, and she didn’t stop until we were standing in front of the living room window, the lights from Clara’s house flashing against the couch, the floor, and all the walls. Mrs. Bloomburg sat on the armchair with her eyes wide.
“Evening,” I said to Mrs. Bloomburg. “It’s eventful out there.”
She sputtered and nodded. “It’s so…bright.” She blinked as if to emphasize her statement.
“Yeah.”
“It’s magic,” Isabelle whispered as she stepped forward and smooshed her face against the window. It was like she wanted to take in every inch of Clara’s house.
“Peanut,” I said as I grabbed a hold of her shoulder and pulled her back a few feet. Sure, this wasn’t the TV, but that much light that close couldn’t be good for the eyes.
“How do you feel about this?” Mrs. Bloomburg asked.
I glanced back at her. I widened my eyes and sighed. “I’m trying to deal with it. I told her about the laws, but she doesn’t seem to care.”
The music changed from Mariah Carey’s “All I want for Christmas” with corresponding Christmas light show to Burl Ives singing “A Holly Jolly Christmas” which had a much slower melody, and I felt like I was less likely to have a seizure.
“Well, you’re a stubborn man. I’m sure you’ll manage.” Her tone was light and full of affection as she slowly rose off the chair.
Out of anyone in Grinchland, she would know. When Nicole was alive, the two of them would sit on her porch drinking lemonade on the hot summer nights or hot cocoa as they watched the snow fall. I’m sure there were numerous times Nicole complained about me and my ways.
“I’ll figure something out.”
Mrs. Bloomburg nodded. “I have the confidence that you will.”
I walked her to the front door. Once she had her jacket and scarf on, I held the door for her as she walked out onto the porch. Just as she stepped onto the doormat, she paused and bent down. When she straightened, she was holding a glittered lollipop.
“Did you drop this?” she asked, handing it over to me.
I took it from her and stared down at it. I shook my head. “No. But I have a feeling…” I glanced over at Clara’s house. Was this part of her revenge? She was slowly going to drop decorations in my yard until I gave in and stopped citing her?
If that was her master plan, she was in for a rude awakening.
I glanced back over to Mrs. Bloomburg, who was studying me. She looked like she wanted to ask me a question but wasn’t sure if she should. When she smiled and nodded toward her house, I realized she was never going to.
“All right, I’m going to head home.” She held onto the railing as she started to descend the stairs.
“Can I walk you home?” I asked. I didn’t want her to accidentally slip.
She paused and then nodded. “Might be for the best. My eyes aren’t what they used to be, and those lights are messing with my depth perception.”
I didn’t wait for her to change her mind. I was down the stairs and to her side in a matter of seconds. She held onto my hand as we slowly walked down the pathway to the road. Once we were safely at her door, she patted my hand.
“I can take it from here,” she said as she turned the handle.
“You sure?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I told her goodbye and she returned the sentiment. When her door was firmly shut and locked, I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my slacks to conserve body heat as I hurried back across the street. Just as I got to my walkway, I stopped and stared over at Clara’s house.
