I look over my shoulder to find my next-door neighbor looming in the entryway of the living room dressed in another pair of worn blue jeans, black leather boots, and a dark V-neck tee.
It takes me another few seconds to notice the tools he holds in both hands.
“Is that a paint can?”
He lifts the hand holding a paint can a few inches and eyes it.
“Gonna need a fresh paint job on that frame once I fix it up.” He motions toward the door.
“Did you really come over to fix my door? I told you that wasn’t necessary.”
He narrows his eyes, making the lines around them more visible. “And I told you whether it’s necessary or not, I’m doing it.”
“I can easily hire a contractor to fix the door.”
“Who’ll charge you a damn arm and a leg. Especially with it being the week before Thanksgiving. You’re lucky if you can get one out here within the next week.
“Do you plan on living in this house for over a week without a locking door?”
“I—”
“Didn’t think so,” he cuts me off. “This’ll only take a couple of hours.” He pauses and eyes the length of my body before his eyes meet mine again. “I’d apologize for the noise, but it can’t be helped. You might want to grab a pair of earplugs or something.”
He does an about face and heads toward the door before I can respond.
I try to twist my body around to overhear what he and Meghan are talking about, but the movement puts pressure on my hip, reigniting the pain that had reduced to only a low throb.
“Mom, are you alright?” Alarm fills her voice as she stoops beside the couch.
“I’m fine, baby. Just put a little too much pressure on my hip.”
She frowns. “Are you getting restless? I know you’re used to being up and about. Sitting still is hard for you.”
“Now you have sympathy for me, huh?” I say, lightly. “But you won’t help me get up to film another video.”
It’s her turn to narrow her eyes at me. “You’re trying to guilt trip me.”
“Damn, did I overplay my hand?”
She holds up her hand, pinching her forefinger and thumb together. “Tiny bit.”
We both laugh.
“Hmm, well, the …” She pauses and looks toward the front door when loud banging sounds come from that direction. I don’t miss the whisper of a smile that crosses her face.
“The chili is simmering, and I’ve already made the cornbread. It’s in the oven warming up. How about I go to the store to pick you up some more magazines?”
“And a few books,” I add.
“I have the list of the books you want on my phone. I’ll get some at the bookstore. Oh, and you said you were going to see if the new wig you ordered arrived at the store, right? I can get that, too.”
“You don’t have to.”
Waving me off, she stands. “Keys?”
“On the holder by the door.” I point toward the coffee table. “Grab my wallet so you can use my card.”
“Don’t need it. These are all on me.”
