Darby stayed at the library longer than she had intended. She found a new novel that she’d hoped to read on the “Lucky Day” table and had lost track of time. Not that she needed to be anywhere. Reading centered her. Getting lost in a book had been as helpful in the early days after Jim died as therapy. It wasn’t like grief was fixable. When she needed to calm her internal anxiety, she turned to books. She found comfort in characters who had learned to live with losses bigger than what she’d gone through or who clung to hope amid war and oppression. If her students left her classroom with nothing more than that, she would consider it a success.
But today losing herself in the story hadn’t been easy. Darby’s thoughts kept returning to Samesh. He had returned to Bend—for her.
After all these years.
And he then lied about it.
Darby was too old for games. Samesh had broken her heart before; she wouldn’t let him in again.
She packed her things and went to the self-checkout kiosk to take home her newest read. The buzz of anger had subsided a bit, but the sting remained.
In the daylight, her house didn’t stand out quite as much, but it radiated a pervasive sadness, like when her neighbor’s house had been wrapped in a dark plastic bubble during a termite infestation last summer.
Darby noticed a truck parked in her driveway. She didn’t recognize the vehicle. Nor did she know why two men had a ladder propped on the side of her house. She hadn’t hired gutter cleaners or a painter. The truck was marked with the city’s logo. She hadn’t received a notice about any work in the area.
She parked her car and got out, standing tall and using her best teacher voice. “Excuse me, what are you doing?”
One of the men was securing the ladder’s base to the ground. The other was unloading a large tub. They both startled at Darby’s voice.
She repeated the question. “Would one of you like to explain what you’re doing on my property?”
The man holding the ladder pointed to the tub at his counterpart’s feet. “We’re putting up your Christmas lights.”
“What?” Darby approached them with caution. She wasn’t worried about her personal safety. They were outside in broad daylight. Her neighborhood was safe. She could run next door or scream if she felt even a hint of concern. Not to mention punch the panic button on her keychain or get in the car and make an escape.
“Your Christmas lights. We’re putting them up for you, ma’am.” One of the guys pointed to giant plastic tubs filled with strings of LED lights.
Darby hated the word “ma’am” for starters. “I didn’t hire anyone to put up Christmas lights. You must have the wrong house.”
The men exchanged a confused look. Then they consulted their clipboard. “This is 220 Antler Drive, right?”
“Yes, but there must be a mistake.” Darby’s gaze ping-ponged from one neighbor’s house to another. Had they collectively decided that her house was an eyesore and pooled funds to hire someone to decorate it? “I didn’t order a Christmas lights installation.”
The men studied their work order again. “This came directly from our boss. It’s marked as a rush order. We’re supposed to have the installation complete within two hours. Full house, eaves, and windows. Red, green, and white lights. We’re nearly done, but we haven’t finished the porch yet. That’s the last thing on our list.”
For a brief moment, Darby wondered if this was some gesture from beyond the grave. Had Jim arranged this before he died? That would have been like him, to make sure their house was colorful and festive after he was gone. But why now? Two years later? That didn’t make sense.
Darby realized the men had already strung retro lights along the roofline and down the side of the house. “Look, I’m sorry that you’ve gone to so much work, but I didn’t place the order. The address must have been written down wrong.” She glanced at her neighbors’ houses on either side. Each of them was already decked out in lights. It must be them, but why wouldn’t they tell her?
“It says 220 Antler Drive.” One of the crew came over to show Darby the order.
She reviewed the paperwork. The name on the bottom line made her gasp. Suddenly, it made sense. Samesh Devi placed the order yesterday. Samesh had sent his crew over to decorate her house. How did he even know where she lived?
“Is something wrong, ma’am?”
“No.” Darby handed him the paperwork. “You can stop, though. I appreciate your efforts.”
“It’s okay. We need to finish the porch section and then plug in the lights. It should only take another ten or fifteen minutes.”
Darby was torn. Part of her wanted to tell them to take it all down. Then again, she felt terrible asking them to destroy two hours’ worth of work.
“We’ll get you all set and be out of your hair ASAP,” his colleague said.
“Okay, fine. Thank you.” Darby stuffed her book under her arm and headed inside. If she hadn’t learned what she had about Samesh at breakfast, would she see this as a sweet gesture? She wasn’t sure because, at the moment, it felt like her old friend was stepping way out of bounds.
THIRTY-FIVE
MARISSA
