Page 3 of Two of a Kind
She flipped the switch by the door, bathing the room in soft light. Her home was her sanctuary. She had bought the small rancher a few years earlier. Two bedrooms, one bathroom on a half-acre lot in an older section of town, about fifteen miles from Pine Ridge. The neighborhood was quiet and the people tended to mind their own business, which was ideal for her. She’d had enough of the nosy, gossipy types to last a lifetime.
She took her phone out of her purse and saw three missed calls. The first was from Simon, the guy she had met last week. She deleted it without listening. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but one date was enough for her to know he was not her type. Their dinner had been pleasant, the conversation topical and politically correct. Wholly uninteresting and incredibly boring.
The second was a courtesy call from the car dealership, reminding her of an upcoming appointment for a routine lube, oil, and filter.
The last was from her boss, Annette, asking her to call back as soon as possible, then qualifying that by adding “as long as it is before midnight.” Kayla looked at the clock. It wasn’t quite nine yet, but she had no intentions of returning the call. Annette probably wanted the same thing she always wanted—for Kayla to cover for someone else.
Annette thought that, because Kayla was single and without kids, she was at Annette’s beck and call. Kayla put an inordinate amount of time and effort into her job at the travel agency, often working long hours and weekends. It was nice to have some time to herself, too. Just because Kayla hadn’t been stupid enough to get married and start popping out babies didn’t mean she didn’t have a life.
One of the benefits of that was, if she wasn’t scheduled to work until two the next day, she could sleep in and spend the rest of the morning doing whatever the hell she wanted.
Another benefit: she answered to no one but herself.
Kayla slipped off her pumps, then went into her bedroom to change into roomy yoga pants and an old T-shirt. With a glass of wine in hand, she put on some soft music for background noise and sorted through the mail. All junk. She fired up her tablet and checked her emails, which also turned out to be mostly spam. She paid some bills online, then did a search for local realtors. She was scanning the list of potential agencies when a noise outside got her attention.
Chapter Three
Kayla took her glassto the sink and peered out the window. The noise came from the property on the right. A six-foot privacy fence separated the yards, while Kayla’s shed and the big apple tree farther back shielded the view. None of that did anything to keep her from hearing yet another shouting match from the new neighbors. Angry shouts punctuated with a few slamming doors and a crash or two.
Kayla hadn’t actually met them yet; they didn’t seem any more inclined to be neighborly than she did, and for that, she was glad. They had moved in about two weeks earlier, a mother and teenage daughter from what she could tell.
No one could accuse Kayla of being a snoop, but she did like to be aware of her surroundings and be able to recognize those she shared property lines with.
She had been out front adding some colorful impatiens and coleus to her flower beds when a car and a moving van had pulled up next door. The woman looked to be around her own age—mid-thirties or so—and the girl, maybe sixteen. Kayla had been prepared to offer a polite wave, but they hadn’t even looked over in her direction. That was fine with her. The best neighbors were those who minded their own business and kept to themselves.
Within an hour, the moving guys were gone, and Kayla hadn’t seen either of them again.
She did hear them, though, as did everyone else within shouting distance. The mother-daughter battles had become a common occurrence, lasting anywhere between five and fifteen minutes. The topics were well-worn and familiar—boys, curfews, homework, inappropriate fashion, the unfairness of life. Everyone had their problems, she supposed.
The nightly reminders of her own teenage years reaffirmed her own life choices. She didn’t miss those days at all and was glad she didn’t have to go through them again with a daughter of her own.
On that happy note, Kayla closed the window and shut down her computer for the night. She had made a short list of local realtors and would make some calls tomorrow.
She checked the clock, pleased to find it after ten, which meant it was late enough to go to bed. She was more than ready to put this day behind her. Twelve hours at the agency followed by dinner with her mother did that.
With a stretch and a yawn, Kayla turned off the lights and the stereo, and prepared for bed.
