by V. M. Burns
Dixie stared at me, and I nodded. “That would be fine, but we’ll need the address.”
She giggled and told me the address. I wrote it on my napkin. She gave directions to Dixie that didn’t mean anything to me. However, Dixie must have known the area.
When Mrs. Hansen left, I looked at Dixie expectantly. “So?”
She shoveled a forkful of hash browns into her mouth and washed it down with coffee. “It’s a nice area. I guess we should have asked how much she wants for rent and a pet deposit, but it’s not very far from here.”
We finished eating, and I followed Dixie to the house, which was less than five minutes away from where we were eating near the mall. The subdivision was small, with only one way in or out. It was tucked away but close to two elementary schools.
The houses were newer, probably built in the last ten years. When we pulled in front of the address Mrs. Hansen had given us, there was already a car in the driveway, and the lady in question hopped out as soon as she saw us and waved. We parked and followed her inside.
The house was a Craftsman-style home with thick wooden beams atop stone columns supporting a wood-covered overhang. Inside, we were greeted with dark hardwood floors, high ceilings, and a massive stone fireplace. The kitchen was huge, with tons of cabinets. The house was very open and had a contemporary feel, despite the Craftsman architecture. There were three bedrooms on the first floor and a large finished bonus room upstairs with a bathroom. My only complaint was that the bedrooms and the master bath were small. In fact, one of the bedrooms was barely bigger than a closet. However, I reminded myself that I was now single with an empty nest. My two children, Stephanie and David, were grown and had moved away; they had lives of their own and would only visit on occasion. Stephanie was a successful attorney in Chicago, and David was a successful actor who was currently touring Europe with a repertoire company. So the house would be more than an adequate size for me and a six-pound poodle.
Mrs. Hansen pointed out every feature with pride. When the tour was over, we stood in the empty great-room area. “What do you think? I can give you the keys, and you can move in immediately. I can have all of his furniture and belongings moved to storage since he’ll be gone for an extended period.”
“We can take care of getting the furniture put in storage,” Dixie said.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Hansen breathed a sigh of relief and then smiled at me.
“It’s a lovely house,” I said hesitantly. “Don’t you need to talk to your son? Run my credit report? Have me fill out an application or sign a lease?” I wanted the house, but I’d never experienced anything like this before. “I mean, I don’t even have a job yet.”
She smiled. “What do you do?”
“I’m a certified public accountant.”
Her eyes widened, and she clapped her hands. “This must be destiny. I just so happen to know someone looking for an accountant.”
This seemed too good to be true. “Really?”
“My son, Robert, used to work with one of the Hopewells.” She smiled and waited expectantly.
I merely stared back.
“You know, the Hopewells.”
I shook my head. “Sorry, I’m not from here.”
“Of course, that explains it.” For the second time today, I got the You poor pitiful thing look. “I’m sure if I make a call, they’ll hire you.” She smiled. “Our meeting today was blessed by providence. I don’t see why we need to go through any formalities. My son gave me power of attorney since he’s overseas,” she said proudly. “Plus, I consider myself a good judge of character. You both look like nice people.” She turned to Dixie. “Plus, you drive a Lexus.”
It took about thirty seconds before I realized my mouth was open and closed it. I struggled to understand how the type of car Dixie drove mattered the least bit in terms of me renting this house. “You know I’m the one who’ll be renting the property, right?”
“Oh yes, but you look like an honest person.” She smiled.
I was dumbstruck.
“Well, I can tell you my friend is definitely honest and trustworthy.” Dixie turned away from the woman and winked at me. “How much is the rent?”
She gave me a price, and I nearly choked. However, I needn’t have worried. Dixie turned on her Southern charm and negotiated the rent down a couple of hundred dollars to a number that was still higher than I would have liked but was within a comfortable range. She also arranged for a refundable pet deposit that was half what I’d been quoted by other landlords.
I was adamant about a lease and called my daughter, Stephanie, and explained the situation. She quickly sent an electronic copy of a standard tenant/lease agreement with all of the particulars. We were able to sign electronically. I handed over a check for the security deposit, pet fee, and first month’s rent, and Mrs. Hansen handed over the keys and promised to get in touch with her friend about the job.
“My son’s girlfriend, Lynn, lives near here, and I’m sure if you need anything, she’ll be more than willing to help you. Plus, you can always give me a call.” She handed me a card with her telephone number. She seemed thrilled and smiled broadly before she hurried out to get on the interstate before the traffic got too bad, and left Dixie and me standing alone in my new rental.
“What just happened?”
Dixie shook her head. “You just rented a decent house in a decent neighborhood. So, you and Aggie can get out of that hotel room, and you might have also landed a new job. Let’s go and pack up your stuff and get the utilities set up so you can move in as soon as possible.”
Three phone calls had the electric, water, and trash switched to my name. The owner had left so quickly the cable and Internet hadn’t been disconnected, so I was able to get that transferred into my name too. My furniture, clothes, and belongings were in storage, so packing up the hotel room only took a couple of hours. By the end of the day, with Dixie’s help, Aggie and I were in our new home. Since the landlord had left in such a hurry and his furniture was still there, Aggie and I had a place to sleep that was better than the hotel.
Dixie was a master at arranging things. I was able to check out of my extended-stay hotel without a penalty. She even arranged for the movers to pack the landlord’s furniture into a storage pod, as Mrs. Hansen requested, and to bring my belongings the next day, which was a feat I hadn’t thought possible. Apparently, a Southern accent, used properly, could unlock quite a few doors. When I asked Dixie how she managed, she merely laughed and tossed her head back. “It’s a gift, honey.”
I was grateful she was using her gift on my behalf and accepted the statement as truth.
The next day, I made an early-morning trip to the airport and picked up my daughter, Stephanie. She had planned to come for a week to help me get settled. When the house hunt took so long, we decided to set up the visit whether I was in a place or not. I was grateful she wasn’t going to have to stay in a hotel. The airport was very close to the rental.
Stephanie was tall, thin, and beautiful, with dark brown hair and eyes. She hurried to the car, shedding her coat as she walked. I hopped out of the car and opened the back hatch so she could put in her luggage.
We hugged and she smiled. “I can’t believe this weather. It was freezing in Chicago.”
We hurried into the car before we got in trouble for parking in front of the terminal entrance. It was so good to see her.
“Are you hungry?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I ate before I got on the plane.”
I followed my car’s GPS back to the house. I was able to make the trip there and back in less than thirty minutes.
The movers arrived on schedule and set up my furniture and left me a path that wound around a mountain of boxes. I’d gotten rid of a ton of things when I sold my house in Indiana; however, you wouldn’t know it by looking at the boxes I had left. Admittedly, mos
t of them were books. I loved books and couldn’t part with them when it came time to move. Dixie wasn’t only great at arranging; she was also a hard worker and soon had all of the kitchen equipment unboxed, linens put away, and clothes in the closet. Tonight, I would be able to take a shower, sleep in my own bed, and cook. I had an entire year to unpack my books. So I moved the boxes of books into the closet and promptly closed the door. Out of sight, out of mind. However, Stephanie had other ideas. She immediately started putting the books on the shelves. I wasn’t sure if this was out of a desire to help or because she wanted to make sure she had plenty of reading material while she was here. Regardless, she shelved all of the books and helped set up one of the guest rooms as an office.
While the movers unloaded my things, the neighbors from across the street came over to introduce themselves. Michael and Charity Cunningham were a smart, bubbly young couple. Both had the lean bodies of runners and nearly perfect teeth, which they displayed a lot while their eyes darted around the room taking in each and every detail.
“Is it just you?” Charity flashed her perfect teeth.
I tried not to grind my teeth, but my jaw clenched. I had grown to hate the word just since my husband’s death. Waiters used it when I went to restaurants alone. Will there be just one for dinner? Some days I wanted to scream. I’m not just anything. However, screaming at a complete stranger wasn’t a great way to make friends in my new city. So I plastered on my fake smile. “No. It’s not just me. I have Aggie.” I held up my black toy poodle and waved her paw.
“Oh, isn’t she cute.” Charity reached out and scratched Aggie behind her ear.
Aggie wiggled and fanned her tail like the blades of a fan.
“Thank you!”
Michael displayed his perfect teeth. “I think Charity meant are you married? Is there a Mr. Echosby?”
I ground my teeth further. “No, my husband—”
“Died suddenly a few months ago,” Dixie said in the soft, quiet voice people reserved for funerals and talking about the dead.
Michael and Charity immediately retracted their perfect teeth, tilted their heads to the side, and offered their solemn condolences.
“Please don’t hesitate to stop by if you need anything once you’re settled. We’re just across the street,” Charity said as she and Michael backed out of the door and made a hasty retreat.
When they were gone, I turned to Dixie. I knew my face wore the question I hadn’t spoken aloud.
She merely shrugged. “No need going into all of the ugly details about how Albert was a low-down, dirty snake in the grass who was in the process of divorcing you so he could run off with his pole-dancing tart when he was murdered. Besides, nothing clears a room faster than grief on display.”
“But I’m not grieving. I’m at peace with myself. I’ve embraced being single and my new life.”
“I know that, and you know that, but Mr. and Mrs. Super Shiny Veneers don’t need to know.”
“You think those were veneers?”
Dixie nodded. “Of course. I almost put on my sunglasses.”
We laughed but quickly got back to the business of unpacking and arranging furniture. After a day of unpacking, Dixie went home to check on her dogs and her husband. Dixie had two standard poodles that were former show dogs. She’d traveled all over the country competing in conformation dog shows. However, Champion Galactic Imperial Resistance Leader—Leia, for short—and Champion Chyna, the Ninth Wonder of the World—also known as Chyna—were retired from competitions now and living the life of the pampered in Dixie’s sprawling estate atop Lookout Mountain.
Aggie spent most of her time sniffing every crack, corner, and crevice. I spent my time, between unpacking and tearing down boxes, following her around to make sure she didn’t squat and pee. The last thing I wanted to deal with was losing my security deposit. When we’d unpacked what felt like the millionth box, I decided to explore the neighborhood. Stephanie begged off, saying she was tired and wanted a shower and an early night. So it was just me and Aggie.
One unfortunate thing about the house was that it lacked a fence. I had hoped for a level, fenced-in backyard where I could let Aggie outside to play. I could have gotten an invisible fence, but I wasn’t crazy about the idea of shocking my poor little dog. However, once again, Dixie had come to the rescue with a brilliant solution. She had brought over a metal dog pen that I set up at the bottom of the deck stairs. It wasn’t a big pen, but it provided ample space for Aggie to take care of her business without me having to run outside to make sure she didn’t run away. It wasn’t an ideal situation, and a big dog would have easily knocked over the pen, but Aggie wasn’t a big dog. The pen had a small door with a sliding latch that made it easy to get the dogs out. She warned me that since Aggie was able to use her nose to get out of her crate whenever she wanted, she would be able to get out of the pen too, so I needed to pick up some zip ties to prevent her from escaping.
I made a mental note to add zip ties to my shopping list. I put Aggie on a retractable leash and grabbed some plastic bags for waste, and we headed out to explore our environs.
The subdivision wasn’t large. There were probably fifty houses. There was a community building with a sign outside, near the entrance, that gave updates on events and a gazebo near the center of the subdivision that looked like a nice place to sit and relax, so we headed toward it.
It was a nice day, and we encountered quite a few people out enjoying the weather. The adults smiled or waved. Southerners were definitely a friendly bunch. The children went on about their play. There was an intense basketball game going on at the house down the street from ours. Aggie and I sat on the bench in the gazebo and watched for a while until she got bored with the game and pulled on her leash to keep moving. I turned away from the game and rose to continue my walk and collided with a surly, sour-faced older man.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you—”
“Then you must be blind.”
His hateful attitude took me by surprise; however, I took a deep breath and reminded myself I was in the wrong. I had bumped into him, and I didn’t want to get off to a bad start with my neighbors. “I’m very sorry. It was an accident. I was watching the game and not paying attention.”
“Obviously you weren’t paying attention to me or your dog.” He glowered at Aggie.
“Excuse me?”
“I nearly stepped in a pile of crap.” He pointed down to a large pile of dog poop that was outside of the gazebo. “I’m tired of you people parading your pets all over the neighborhood and not picking up after them. This is the third time this month, and I’m going to report you to the neighborhood association at the meeting tomorrow night.”
“You can report whatever you want. I just moved into this neighborhood today, so my dog isn’t responsible for any of that.” I held up the plastic bags in my hand. “Besides, I’m a responsible pet owner, and I always clean up after my pet.”
He literally growled. “Well, you may not be responsible for the other times, but you can’t deny the evidence.” He pointed again toward the large pile of dog poop. “Or are you stupid as well as blind? Anyone with an ounce of the sense the universe bestowed upon a grasshopper could see that a dog”—he pointed to Aggie—“is at fault.”
That did it. I’d had enough of this cantankerous blowhard. “I’m neither stupid nor blind, but anyone with a shred of the sense God gave a grasshopper could see that my six-pound dog would be physically incapable of leaving a pile of dog crap that size.” I pointed to the dog poop. “Little dogs leave little logs.”
Our screaming had caused a stir, and several people had gathered to watch.
“However, even though my dog obviously isn’t responsible for this, I’m going to do the neighborly thing and clean it up.” I marched down the stairs of the gazebo and used my bag to pick up the offending pile. Once I had it bagged and closed,
I deposited it into a nearby receptacle designated for the purpose. When I was done, I turned, bowed, and marched away with Aggie.
“You haven’t heard the last of me.”
I fought down an overwhelming desire to flip him the bird and, instead, satisfied my flesh by using an arm gesture I’d seen truckers use that was extremely unladylike. It was a childish gesture but surprisingly satisfying.
I stomped away. My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I whipped it out. I didn’t recognize the number but swiped it. “What?”
There was a pause at the other end before a hesitant voice asked, “I’m sorry, is this Lilly Echosby?”
I took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m sorry. This is Lilly Echosby speaking.”
The voice was still tentative but continued. “This is Laura Tatum from Tatum Temp Services. Your name was given to us by Jo Ellen Hansen for an accounting job listed with one of our companies.”
“Yes. I’m so sorry. I just had...well, I’m sorry for the way I answered the phone.”
“Can you provide me some information about yourself?”
I filled her in on my background and essentials, and promised to send a resume.
“We’ll need to run a background check, and the position is only temporary, but they’re desperate and you came very highly recommended. If you can start immediately, I’ll get busy with the legalities.”
“I’m very interested in the job. Where do you want me and when?”
She laughed. “I need someone to start tomorrow, if you’re available, at the Chattanooga Museum of Art at nine.”
“Great. I’ll be there.”
“Don’t you want to know how much the position pays?”
“It doesn’t really matter. I need the work.”
She laughed but quickly filled me in on the pay and the other particulars. The pay wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was a job. My late husband, Albert, hadn’t wanted me to work, despite the fact that I was a certified public accountant. So, apart from helping him get his car dealership established and doing his books during the early years of the business, I hadn’t worked outside of the home in over twenty years. As a widow, I had what was left of the life insurance and the proceeds from the sale of our home to live on. While I wasn’t hurting for cash, I also needed to secure my future, which would start with establishing a work history without a twenty-year gap.