Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“I am.”
“I don’t know if anyone in this town has seen you … until now.”
“I don’t go out much.” She steps out of the car.
I follow her to the front door, zipping my jacket against the nippy air.
“Cash work?” She heads down the hallway. Just before taking a right into the office, she glances over her shoulder and eyes me. I think she has a tiny grin stealing her lips, but it’s hard to see in the dim light.
Do I amuse her? Is she flirting with me again?
I tear my gaze from hers and glance around more than I did yesterday. My mom is going to kill me for losing everything. Unless …
“I have a better idea,” I mumble.
She returns with an envelope. “Will two thousand cover your mailbox and your time driving me home?”
It’s a fifty-dollar mailbox. I charge seventy an hour as a plumber. Two thousand is more than generous. Or at least it would be if I didn’t need something else from her. “Listen, Serena … can I call you Serena?”
“It’s my name. Go for it.”
“What are your holiday plans?”
Her eyes narrow in distrust. “Well … my plans are to pretend it’s not the holidays.”
“Great. So you don’t have family coming into town? No big parties? Nothing like that?”
Her head eases side to side.
“I don’t want your money. I want to stay here for the holidays with my mom who will be arriving in a few days.”
Serena blinks for a good five seconds. “This isn’t a bed and breakfast.”
“I don’t need it to be a bed and breakfast. I just need it to be …” I pop my lips a few times and adjust my shoulders into the most confident posture I can manage.
“To be what?” Her head cants.
“Mine. I need it to be mine just for the holidays. Until December twenty-seventh to be exact.”
“You need what to be yours?” Her eyes narrow even more.
“This house.”
Another long series of blinks. I’m not sure if she’s in shock or deep thought.
“Why?” she asks.
“This house is called the Afina house. It has been since it was built three generations ago by my great grandfather Hermann Bechtel. I inherited it two years ago after my father died and my mother moved to Germany.”
Serena doesn’t respond for several long moments. She’s too busy chewing on the inside of her cheek, lips twisted. “So why’d you sell it?”
I bob my head side to side. “That’s complicated. I didn’t have a choice, but my mom doesn’t know. And if I don’t have to tell her before Christmas, I’ll choose that option.”
“What’s my role? If I’m not the owner, how will you explain me to your mom?”
Holy Christmas miracle … is she really considering this? Just like that?
I honestly hadn’t gotten that far, but now I need a solid plan. “You could stay at my place. A house swap for the holidays. No need for you and my mom to meet.”
Her brows draw together for a beat before she covers her mouth and snorts. “House swap? This for your trailer?”
“What’s wrong with my trailer? Aside from the fact that it no longer has a standing mailbox?” I cross my arms.
Her nose scrunches. Then it relaxes as she sighs. “I’ll stay upstairs in the attic.”
“For two weeks?”
She nods. “There’s a mini fridge.”
“If my mom sees you—”
“She won’t.”
This is too good to be true. I best not press my luck, so I nod.
“Why’d you lose the house?”
I narrow my eyes. “Why’d you run into my mailbox?”
“I have narcolepsy.”
“What?”
“It’s a neurological disorder where—”
“I know what it is. I just wasn’t expecting that to be your reason.” I roll my eyes. But if I’m honest, I don’t really know a lot about narcolepsy, probably just a generic idea that it has something to do with not being able to stay awake.
“I’m more dangerous during the day. Sadly, I’m less likely to fall asleep at night. Except tonight.” She frowns. “That was unexpected.”
I chuckle. “Tell me about it.”
“Why’d you lose your great grandfather’s house?”
I glance at my phone. “It’s a quarter after two in the morning. Can we finish this conversation another time?”
Serena nods several times, curling her hair behind one ear.
I still don’t get why she’s going along with this so easily. Not that I’m complaining.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
I open the door. “Home.”
“How will you get there?”
“Legs. I’ve got a working pair. See you Monday. That’s when my mom arrives. I’ll bring groceries, clothes, and some photos to put back on the mantel. And we’ll have to decorate for Christmas before I pick her up from the airport. Are the decorations still in the attic?”
Her head inches side to side.
“Where are they?” I ask.
“I uh … gave them away.”
“For Frosty the fucking snowman’s sake … did you get rid of all the decorations? Not having this place decorated for the holidays is nearly as bad as no longer owning it. How am I supposed to explain this to my mom?”