“If you need me, I’ll be in the break room,” he told Pamela, then stepped out of his cubicle for the walk of shame past the rest of his coworkers.
Not even thirty minutes after arriving home with the girls the next afternoon, Christian found himself dangling over the top of aladder, his body outstretched as he hung the string of lights to the house. It would probably be safer to climb down from the rungs and move the whole ladder over a few inches. But with only one more clip needed to fasten the interwoven orange-and-purple bulbs to the gutter, he just wanted to be done.
If it weren’t for the girls constant begging since the beginning of September, he wouldn’t bother decorating for Halloween at all. But with October right around the corner, he figured they wouldn’t let him put it off very much longer.
Behind him, Pumpkin’s happy barks cut through the early evening, Penelope’s giggles joining them as they chased each other around the yard.
“Where should we put this, Daddy?” Isla asked as a warm breeze whipped against Christian’s back. He grabbed onto the ladder to keep from losing his foothold on the second rung down. Once he’d steadied himself, he secured the lights to the gutter before turning to his daughter. She held a giant, hairy spider that took up half her height. Its eight beady eyes were a vivid shade of red, which only made it look creepier than it already was.
It's going to be fun staring at that thing for a whole month,he thought climbing down from the ladder. “Where do you think we should put it?”
Isla tossed the spider onto the bushes underneath the porch railing. “How about right here?”
“I couldn’t have picked a better place myself.” Christian stopped untangling the remainder of the lights and walked over to the bushes, straightening the ugly thing over the branches.
The yipping of small dogs announced the arrival of one of their neighbors. Pumpkin barked out a greeting. Christian turned, barely managing to stop the groan from escaping his mouth.
Carrie Pritchard, of all people, stood on the sidewalk in front of their yard. Her three yorkies strained on their leashes in their effort to get to Pumpkin. Tail wagging, the golden retriever trotted over to say hello.
“Hey, Christian!” Carrie called, dragging her yipping dogs across the lawn toward him.
His smile felt more like a grimace, and he fanned his hand out in front of him in an unenthusiastic wave. “How’ve you been, Carrie?”
The only upside to being caught in an unexpected conversation with the head of the neighborhood gossip chain was that her daughter wasn’t with her. Sammy had caused enough grief for his family this week. Which reminded him, he still needed to address the child’s latest grievance.
“I’m hanging in there,” she said, flicking a strand of shoulder-length black hair behind her. Dressed in tight leggings and a racerback tank top, she gave the appearance of someone coming back from the gym, minus the sweat and flushed complexion. She narrowed her heavily mascara-lined eyes at the spider decoration hanging off the bushes. “Did you hear about Lorie and Bill?”
Christian pursed his lips before giving his head a slow shake. “I haven’t seen them in a few days.”
What beef could she possibly have on the couple who lived in the house between theirs? They mostly kept to themselves, the only signs of life occurring as they came and went.
Carrie dropped her voice to a loud whisper. “I’m pretty sure they’re having marital problems. I heard them fighting in the backyard last night.”
“Every couple argues sometimes. I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary.” Christian searched his mind desperately for a reason to abandon the conversation. He could only take a few minutes with her before the exhaustion kicked in. And the irritation. Most days he tried to avoid her and all the neighborhood dirt she managed to uncover. He had enough problems of his own.
Carrie didn’t seem to catch on to his diplomatic attempt at curbing the gossip. “Now that their kids are gone, I wonder if their differences are being aired in the light. A lot of marriages fall apart once couples become empty nesters.”
He wouldn’t know. His marriage never made it past the babystage. “Well, whatever it is, I’m sure they’ll figure it out.” He began wrapping the lights around the drainage pipe.
“Have you heard from Sabrina?”
The question came out of nowhere and practically knocked him off his feet. “No.”And it’s none of your business if I had.
When would Carrie get the picture that his ex wasn’t coming back?
She was a few years older, and she’d taken Sabrina under her wing from the time she and Christian first joined the neighborhood, which hadn’t been his idea in the first place.
If it weren’t for his wife’s insistence that a house in the suburbs would make her happier than staying in their shoebox apartment close to campus, he never would’ve moved back to Buena Hills when they did. Fresh off receiving his bachelor’s, it had taken most of his entry level income just to pay the rent. But back then he’d do anything to fix their marriage.
Except it hadn’t. Not even close.
And once their relationship ended, the idea of moving again seemed like too much of an undertaking. Especially when the original owner approached Christian about buying the place, an option that only became available after he’d landed his current job.
“I tried calling her the other day, just to see how she’s doing, you know, but I think she changed her number,” Carrie continued.
“Mmmm.” He ground his teeth to keep the words he wanted to say from coming out of his mouth. Her information digging might work on the other street gossips, but it wouldn’t on him. She already knew way too many details about his failed marriage, thanks to Sabrina. This busybody wouldn’t receive any spilled tea from him.
Not that he held any tea to spill. No word had come from his ex since the note he’d discovered on the kitchen table the day she left. Even when the finalized divorce papers arrived in the mail—unsigned by her, thanks to California’s abandonment clause—nothing. He had no clue where she was, and he refused to dwell on it with his nosy neighbor.
