The Man Next Door: Orchard Heights Book 2 - standalone

by Roya Carmen

  “No worries. We can chat, just the two of us until they get here.”

  “Please make yourself comfortable at the table. Can I offer you something to drink?” she asks. “Tea, coffee… juice?”

  I nod, knowing I will be there for a while. “Uh… perhaps a tea.”

  She bounces to the pantry. “Sounds good.”

  I settle myself at the kitchen table and dig out the Perez folder from my briefcase. Colleen practically hops as she heads toward me and presents me with a tin full of different teas. After a quick perusal, I select the Orange Pekoe. She bounces back to the kitchen to make my tea.

  She’s way too happy. She reminds me of those perky cheerleader types back in high school. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was one of them years ago. I’ll try not to hold that against her.

  I go over all my notes as she busies herself making tea. Colleen Parson. Homemaker and attorney. Thirty-one years old. Married to Greg Parson, attorney. Two children.

  She hands me my mug of tea, and settles down with her own. They’re matching of course. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who has mismatched mugs in her cupboard.

  “Thank you,” I say. “So shall we get right to it?”

  “I’m ready if you are.”

  “You are an Immigration attorney. Are you working at the moment?”

  “I work from home, part-time,” she tells me. “We have two kids. Natasha and Nathan. They’re at school right now. I try to have a lot of time for the kids. I’d have lots of time to devote to Madison as well.”

  I check my files. Natasha is eight and Nathan is six. “How do the children feel about Madison possibly living with you?”

  She sits up straighter. “They’re all for it. They love Madison.”

  I nod and look around. “You have room for an extra child?”

  She nods. “Yes… we have the attic all ready for her.”

  I wince. The attic? Visions of Flowers in the Attic suddenly fill my head.

  “We used to keep junk up there, but we’ve cleaned it up and painted and set it up special for her. Would you like to see it?”

  Hell, yes.

  “Yes, would love to.”

  She bounces off her chair like a jack-in-the-box. “Let’s go.”

  I nip at her heels as we climb up the stairs to the second floor. Tucked in the corner are wooden stairs which have been pulled out of the ceiling.

  She smiles wide. “You may want to take off your heels.”

  We walk up the small stairs, and I feel like a kid climbing up a tree house. When we finally get to the top, I’m awed. What I wouldn’t have given for a room like this when I was a kid. The walls are painted shades of yellow and blue. The white bed is a cloud of pretty blankets and pillows. Butterflies dot the walls and there are two framed posters of the Jonas brothers. A tall dresser and a wardrobe stand against the walls.

  I walk over to the electric fireplace tucked in the corner, and Colleen picks up the small remote on the bedside table. She clicks the fire alive. “We put this in because it is a little chilly up here in the winter.”

  “This place is fantastic,” I tell her. “I want to move in.”

  She laughs, and I remind myself to not let this dream room influence my report. I need to consider all the factors, dot all my i’s and cross all my t’s.

  We climb our way back down a little awkwardly.

  When we finally get back to the main floor, I see that the kids are back, schoolbags strewn about. They’re both in the kitchen, heads buried in the refrigerator and the cupboards. Colleen rolls her eyes. “They do this everyday,” she tells me. “They only eat half their lunches, and when they get home, they’re ravenous.” She kisses the top of their heads. “How was today?”

  “Same old,” Natasha says and shoots me a small grin.

  “Guys, this is Mrs. Cooper. She’s here about Madison. Remember, I told you all about her?”

  “Natasha, a younger version of her mother, offers me her hand politely. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Cooper.”

  “Nice to meet you too.”

  I shake Nathan’s hand too. He seems more introverted than his sister. They both sit down at the table with snacks; carrots and dip and crackers, and we chat for quite a while. I go over all the questions I’ve prepared, and after about an hour, Greg finally makes an appearance, apologizing profusely for his tardiness. He apparently got caught up at work. Colleen tells me this is typical. So we have a workaholic father-figure, but Colleen and the kids more than make up for what he lacks.

  They all seem to love Madison, and seem to genuinely be looking forward to having her join their family. Finances definitely check in. They can afford to house her, dress her, and even take her along everywhere they go; ski getaways and winter trips to the Caribbean.

  “And Scooter is welcome too, I assume,” I say.

  Faces fall all around, and Colleen stares at her area rug. “Unfortunately we can’t take Scooter because Nathan and my husband both have bad allergies.”

  My heart sinks. Madison loves that dog. He’s all she has. He’s her best friend.

  I jot this new finding in my notes, emphasizing how important the dog is to Madison.

  “We can bring her back home as often as she likes to visit him,” Colleen is quick to add.

  I jot down a few final remarks. “Sure. Don’t feel bad. It’s completely understandable.”

  It’s almost five o’clock when we’re finally done. “I better let you nice folks have your dinner,” I say as I tuck away my notes and folders. “It was really nice to meet you all.”

  Colleen offers me a hand. “The pleasure was ours.”

  She walks me to the door, and I have a really good feeling about it all. It’s really too bad about Scooter though.

  I’m still thinking about Madison as I step into the elevator. Every time the doors pop open, a small part of me hopes to see Noah. The elevator is empty and my heart sinks a little. As I walk past his place, I hear a beautiful tune from his piano. We haven’t seen each other in over a week, and I wonder if he’s purposely avoiding me.

  I hope not.

  Weeks following our kiss, my heart was still broken. I tried to get close to him again, but Gavin kept pushing me away, not letting me in, even refusing my baked goods. He kept telling me that I shouldn’t be there, that I should be hanging with kids my own age.

  So that’s what I started to do. I tried to forget all about him and get on with my life. Izzie was happy to have me back.

  “I missed you.” Her hands were buried in a bag of Doritos. “You want one?”

  “Sure…” I dug in eagerly, grabbed two and popped them into my mouth. I’d just gotten my appetite back. Who new that heartbreak was such an excellent diet.

  “Where have you been these days anyway?” she asked. “I don’t like it when you go AWOL.”

  “I’ve been feeling kind of low lately,” I confessed. “Been taking lots of walks and stuff.”

  She barely registered my confidences. “This guy is so fucking good.”

  We were watching Pete play this old James Bond 007 pinball game. There were four pinball games at the small arcade attached to the convenience store, and about six 80s video games, Ms Pac Man was my favorite. Frogger was Izzie’s.

  “Hey, Izzie,” Johnny Reed quipped. “Staying out of trouble?”

  She grinned, and shot him a wink. “Never.”

  I shook my head, flabbergasted. Izzie flirted with everyone, even her cousins.

  Izzie had a lot of relatives. Both her parents were from large families, and it seemed like half of the people we ran into were related to her somehow; a cousin, an uncle, an aunt. Johnny was with his usual gang, thugs you don’t mess with. The boys were afraid of them, and the girls wanted to hook up with them, and those who did ended up used and dumped. I was invisible to them, and that wasn’t a bad thing at all.

  The whole place had a cool retro vibe, and since it was the only place to hang, it was usually busy. You could buy a
Coke or a bag of chips and walk directly to the games. And since it was March and cold outside, everyone was there. There was no loitering allowed and technically, Izzie and I were loitering, but Jack, the owner, liked Izzie… a lot.

  I got lost in the blinking lights and the colorful illustration of James Bond in his suit, surrounded by scantily clad women with unrealistic measurements. I was thinking about Gavin. I was always thinking about Gavin. I wished I could just forget all about him, but as long as I was breathing, I knew I never would.

  That’s when my heart did a triple flip worthy of an Olympic medal. Gavin was there, standing by the entrance, holding a jug of milk, wearing his thick winter jacket and toque. He was as beautiful as I remembered, and my pulse raced as he stood there, watching me. Thankfully, Izzie was paying attention to the game and hadn’t noticed him.

  The place was packed, yet there was only us two in that moment. His gaze clung to mine for the longest time, and he seemed as heartbroken as I was. When he motioned me to him, I didn’t hesitate. My heart pounded as I inched closer, wondering what he wanted to say to me.

  I miss you, perhaps.

  He drew me slowly to him. “I don’t want you around that guy,” he said, almost a whisper.

  I jerked my head around. “Who? Pete?”

  He nodded. “He’s too old for you.”

  “He’s younger than you,” I pointed out. “Two years younger.”

  “Still too old,” he insisted. “And I don’t trust him.”

  “You don’t even know him,” I argued. I didn’t bother telling him that I didn’t even like Pete. Perhaps a small part of me wanted to make him jealous. “And funny enough, Pete told me the same thing about you. He told me to stay away from you.”

  A whisper of a smile traced his lips. “Good advice.”

  “Pete is Izzie’s uncle,” I told him matter-of-factly. “He’s always around.”

  “I still don’t want you around him,” he scolded.

  I blew out a long breath. “Who are you anyway? My dad?” I snapped. “You’re not part of my life anymore. You made sure of that… your decision. Now you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

  “I’m just looking out for you, Abigail,” he said. “I still care about you.”

  And with those words, he turned and headed to the cash register. And my heart broke all over again.

  I still care about you.

  18

  “I loved that dress on you,” Claudia presses the elevator button. “We should all go out for dinner, and you could wear it. It would look fantastic with those red heels you have. You need a night out, girl.”

  I smile but don’t say a word. Maybe she’s right. Claudia thought that shopping might cheer me up. I tried to tell her that my brain doesn’t quite work like hers. I tried to explain that a new skirt wouldn’t miraculously make everything right, but she wouldn’t hear it.

  So a dress, two tops, and a pair of brand new jeans later, I stand in the elevator, trying to mentally figure out how much money I’ve just spent. The elevator doors open at the second floor and Claudia kisses me goodbye.

  I stare at my feet on the way to my floor, and I finally look up when the elevator doors ping open. I don’t step out. I just stand there. And stare at him. He doesn’t move either, as frozen as I am. The elevator doors start to close and I reach for the button. The doors open again and I step out.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Hi.”

  He looks amazing in a stylish brown suede jacket, sporting a week-old beard. I hate that he looks so good. “You’ve been busy?”

  He nods, staring at the floor. “Yes.”

  Rage consumes me as it works its way from my core to all my extremities. I’m suddenly hot… breathless. “I can’t believe you. I thought you were different.”

  “I’m sorry, Abby—”

  “You’re just like all those other guys your age. What’s wrong with your generation? It’s all sex, Tinder and fucking around. You spoiled entitled kids are so full of yourselves. You’re incapable of love, of real relationships. You just use people, and you don’t give a shit about them. It’s all about one-night stands, isn’t it? God, I’d love to read a study about your generation, about why you’re all so fucked up and selfish. You’re a pig.”

  I blow out a breath, and notice that I’m shaking.

  “Are you done now?” he asks. “I’m not like that. You got me all wrong. Have you ever thought that I might have stuff going on? That this might not be about you?”

  I cross my arms, not quite knowing what to say. How did he manage to turn the conversation around and make me look like the bad guy?

  “I like you, Abby. I really like you. And no, you’re not too old for me. And no, I don’t sleep around. And yes, that night we shared meant something,” he snaps. “It meant a fucking lot. I wish it didn’t.”

  “So what then?” I ask, confused. “Why are—”

  “I just can’t right now, Abby. You and me…”

  “You and me… what?” I desperately want to know why we can’t be together. What’s wrong with us?

  “I gotta go,” he says. “I’m running late.”

  Running late for what?

  Someone else?

  As soon as I step into my apartment, I plop down on my sofa, shopping bags in hands. Yes, that dress is gorgeous, and those jeans make my ass look great, and those tops are super cute, but they don’t mean a thing if I can’t wear them for Noah.

  “There’s one way to find out,” Izzie was saying. We were trying to figure out if my older brother, Jake, had a girlfriend because he’d been acting kind of crazy. It was a beautiful sunny spring day. We should have been outside instead of making trouble inside.

  “How?”

  “D-i-a-r-y,” she whispered.

  I laughed. “My brother doesn’t have a diary. He’s a guy.”

  “Well, maybe he has some secret love letters.”

  I smirked. “I highly doubt it. I don’t even think he has a girlfriend. Who could even like the jerk.”

  She bit her bottom lip, up to no good. “I know where we could look.”

  “Where?” I was a little curious. I’d always wanted to peek in Jake’s room but never had the courage to. Now with Izzie behind me, I felt empowered. She was such a bad influence.

  She hopped off my bed. “At the bottom of his closet.”

  Yes… the bottom of the closet. I had one too, where I kept my secret treasures. All the trailers had the built-in closets in the smaller rooms. Once you took out the bottom drawer, there was plenty of room to hide secrets underneath. We both quickly rushed to Jake’s room. Of course we were the only ones there. My dad had taken the boys to the hardware store — the porch needed fixing.

  We quickly removed the bottom drawer, eager to see. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. It was so unlike me.

  Izzie wore the giddy expression of a child on Christmas morning. “Jackpot. There’s tons of stuff down here.” She pulled out everything and splattered it on the vinyl flooring.

  I was kneeling down on the floor as well, curious to see. I had my back against the closed door, just in case the boys were to suddenly come back and rush in. “Any good stuff?” I asked, excited

  At first glance, one could see a handmade booklet, pictures, a rolled up pair of socks, a tiny box, drawings, an envelope full of letters, and of course, some porn mags. Further inspection was to take place.

  Izzie was going through Jake’s stuff frantically, without any apparent guilt or apology. She was completely in her element. “They’re love letters,” she said, her tone a sing-song. She closed her eyes, swayed her head and made kissing noises.

  “Gimme those.” I grabbed the letters and shot her a sharp look. I didn’t think we should be reading them.

  “I wonder what’s in the box.” She was quick to open it. There were coins, a weed leaf pin, a mysterious key and a crumbled piece of paper.

  She unfolded the paper, and I moved in to take a closer
look. “What is it?”

  “It’s just a brownie recipe,” she said, disappointed. She studied it further. “I think it’s a special recipe. Let’s copy it in your little notebook, Abby.”

  “I don’t need to copy it. I already have a brownie recipe I like.”

  Izzie giggled. “You don’t have one like this one, I can tell you that.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, you’re forgetting one thing, Izzie. We probably need one key ingredient we don’t have.”

  She shrugged and dug into the envelope of letters. There were about four or five.

  Feelings of guilt suddenly hit me. “Izzie...we shouldn’t be reading those. It’s not fair to my brother.”

  Izzie ignored me, unfolded one letter and proceeded to quickly unfold all of them. They were on plain notebook paper, written roughly. I quickly glanced down to the bottom of the letters. They were all from the same person. They were all from Tamara. I knew her, or at least, knew of her. She seemed nice enough, but a little promiscuous. Her skirts were always a little too short, her jeans a little too tight and her nails were kind of scary.

  Izzie grabbed the handful of letters and picked the one with the oldest date and read aloud.

  Dear Jake,

  It is so nice to have someone who finally understands me....

  She read quietly. Not a single sound could be heard, save for the words spoken by Izzie.

  You are awesome. You are the best. About yesterday, I know I should have told you before but I didn’t have the courage. I feel like you and I don’t fit in around here but we sure fit together. I can’t wait to get out of the park, and I think you should get out with me too. You don’t belong here either. You’re too smart for this place. I wanted to thank you for listening to me. You’re the only one I could turn to. I’m writing you a song. It might take a while but it’ll be ready for your birthday I hope. You are an amazing person and I hope Alison appreciates you as much as she should.