Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122216 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Ariadne, though, she’s far more of a mystery. One I’m going to unravel bit by bit. But first, I have to get her out of her comfort zone. If I can catch her on her back foot, I can find a way to get closer to her. And, lucky for me, Carl at the hardware owes me more than a few favors after I showed up to help him out after last year’s ice storm.
Charlie pads in and takes his spot in my lap.
“Any minute now, buddy. She’s almost to that box.” I pet him as she climbs down and reaches for the box labeled ‘roof lights’ in her neat hand. “Here we go.” I grab my binoculars and focus on her face.
At first, she’s confused. I can almost see the comic bubble over her head with the words “what happened here?” in it. Then she sits back on her haunches. Now she’s probably thinking “I was wondering why this box was on the floor of the garage instead of on the shelf where I put it. It must’ve fallen. Crap.” She stands and puts her hands on her hips as she scowls at the box full of broken LED icicle lights.
Charlie looks up at me accusatorily.
“What?” I shrug. “Accidents happen. Boxes fall.” I mumble the last part. “Especially if someone pushes them.”
He licks his paw, totally aware of how to flush out prey.
“She’s thinking,” I narrate for Charlie. “She’s thinking hard, because she knows these lights will take forever if she tries to order them. And she wants to get all her stuff up, the sooner the better. Oh, now she’s going back inside. She looked resolute when she slammed the door. Is she—she is!” I stand, and Charlie jumps to the floor and stalks away. Setting my binoculars down, I watch as she opens her garage and backs her little Prius into the road.
I grin at her retreating tail-lights. “Charlie, I’m going to need to make a trip to the hardware store.”
4
ARIADNE
I put the car in reverse and press the gas pedal down a little harder than I usually would when backing out of my driveway. Once I’ve pulled into the street, I sneak a glance over at my neighbor’s place. I can feel him watching me. It’s always like this when I’m outside. My body seems to know when his eyes are on me. I see the blinds move and know that I’m correct in my assumption. Doesn’t he have anything better to do? I put the car in drive, heading toward the local hardware store.
I’m frustrated because there are only so many hours in a day, and nothing seems to be going my way this year. My non-working icicle lights are a big part of my outdoor display and with most of them being crushed, I need to replace them. It’s awfully suspicious that the box they were in was lying on the floor. I take pride in the way I pack my things and always make sure they’re secure. I wouldn’t be surprised if my neighbor had something to do with it. I shake my head of those thoughts, knowing that I’m taking this too far now. Satan Claus from across the street wouldn’t go to those extremes. Would he? I’m almost always home, so I can’t imagine when he would have had the opportunity to sabotage me. I know I’m being a little nutty, but something fishy is definitely going on.
I pull into the lot of the hardware store and park my car in the closest spot to the door. I give myself a little pep talk before stepping out. I look around the parking lot, which is mostly empty. I pray the store is too. I duck into the hardware, heading straight for the Christmas section. I cross my fingers and hope they have my lights. I really don’t want to have to order them. That could take days to get in. Days! I can’t wait that long. I already look crazy for the ten hours that my door sat without a wreath on it. My other neighbors probably think something is wrong with me, or maybe they’re already calling me some nickname. Oh my God, what if they’re calling me The Grinch? I don’t want them to talk about me. It’s a big reason why I haven’t gotten a cat. I’m a prime target to be called a cat lady. I know they all think I’m weird because I keep to myself, and a cat would only exacerbate that. I really want a furry baby, but I know that I can’t get one. Damn it. I stomp my foot as I think about the injustice of it all. And of course, the enemy across the street has a cat. God, I hate him. It’s as though he somehow knows all the things that I enjoy and is trying to ruin them for me.