Page 11 of Fish out of Water
I managed a smile. I wasn’t taking fashion advice from a woman wearing cropped pants with white ankle socks and orthopedic sneakers. “Have a good Saturday.”
“You too, dear.” She patted my back before turning to make her way past Mr. Albertson’s apartment.
I shoved in the last of my donut, rolling my eyes as I walked to the stairs.
I would be the person who accidentally moved into a retirement community. That’s what I got for signing a lease online without actually seeing the place in person.
But the pictures were so pretty. And the price was so good.
Now I knew why.
The air was already starting to warm up as the sun moved higher in the sky, and by the time I made it down the stairs and to the main building I was already sweating and a little sticky under the t-shirt Mrs. Sherling loved so much.
All the mailboxes at Sweet Side Apartments were located in one place, lined down two walls in a large room that included a drop box for outgoing mail. It was convenient in a way, but also provided one more opportunity for my neighbors to dig into my personal life, so I usually took my own mail straight to the post office.
Luckily the room was empty this morning. I figured it would be since the mail didn’t run until after noon, and most of the residents picked up their daily dose of appointment reminder postcards and grocery sales within an hour of the mail hitting the boxes.
I went to my own box first. All that was inside was a Medicare health magazine addressed to the man who lived in the apartment before me. I chucked it in the trash can kept on site for any undesirables, glancing around as I closed the swinging door and twisted the lock on my mailbox.
Still alone.
I backed across the room, going straight to Mr. Frazier’s mailbox as I fished for his key on my ring. I rushed to put it in the lock, hurrying to open the door before anyone came in and had a million questions about where Mr. Frazier was and why I was outside yelling at strange men at one in the morning.
And Grant Servantes was definitely strange.
I whipped open the metal door and bent down, not quite sure what I might find.
A fat business-sized envelope without any markings on it was nothing I would have guessed, even after having to dig the key out of a serial killer fish’s tank.
I slid the envelope out and turned it over. The flap was sealed into place, making it impossible to find out what was inside without actually opening it.
And I was pretty sure mail fraud was a federal crime.
But Mr. Frazier did ask me to collect his mail, so technically I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing.
“We meet again.”
My spine snapped straight at the sound of the voice behind me.
I knew that voice.
Maybe thought of it a little more than I should have while I tossed and turned last night.
I closed the door, twisting the key as I tucked the envelope up the front of my t-shirt, stuffing one of the short edges under the bottom band of my sports bra before turning to face Grant Servantes.
He looked a little different from the last time I saw him. His expensive pants and crisp button-up were gone, replaced with a pair of linen shorts and a t-shirt of his own.
Take that Mrs. Sherling.
His dark hair was loose, falling to one side in soft waves that were wasted on him. Especially if he normally slicked them to his head the way they were last night.
I stood as tall as I dared, not wanting to risk losing the clandestine envelope held in place by nothing more than a little elastic and a prayer. “Grant.”
“Julia.”
Looked like Grant had done a little digging already this morning. “You look like you slept well.”
“I didn’t.” He slowly came toward me, making my heart pick up a little more with each step.
