I opened the door to a tall, slender man around my age. He smiled and held up two large paper bags. “I’m delivering your happiness. Where do you want it?”
“I’m so sorry for bothering you this late.”
“Are you kidding? I live for this. I’m a night owl.”
I let him in, and he put the bags on the counter. “Nice house,” he said.
Suddenly, I was self-conscious about the package wrappers on the floor and the food stains on my dress. I surreptitiously sniffed my armpit. It wasn’t good.
“I’m redecorating,” I lied.
“You have a lot to work with,” he said, kindly. He had an open, friendly face, and he seemed pleased as punch to deliver my junk food. There wasn’t an ounce of judgment anywhere on him.
“I have a couch upstairs in the bonus room that I want to bring down at some point,” I explained, trying to show him I wasn’t as pathetic as I seemed.
“Well, I have time. You want me to help?”
I took a step backward in surprise. Another stranger. Another offer to help. But this one was more specific. He was offering something I could use. A couch was even better than a recliner, and it would be nice to fill up the living room, again.
I stared at him for a minute. “You want to help me lug a couch downstairs?”
“Sure. Why not?”
Why not. Why not? I couldn’t think why not except that maybe he was a killer or a burglar. But if he was, wouldn’t he have already killed me or burgled…if he could find something left to burgle?
“That’s very nice of you.” I looked down. “I should probably change.”
He smiled. “Not necessary.”
But it was.
Suddenly, I wanted to change.
“I’ll just be a second.” I turned on my heel and ran upstairs. I hadn’t entered my bedroom since Steve left me and I had discovered that he had taken the bedroom set because it was too painful. But now I walked in and went right to my closet. I slipped on a pair of stretchy pants and a clean t-shirt and a pair of Crocs on my feet. Then I skipped downstairs.
The delivery man was putting away my groceries. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said.
“I’m starting a diet tomorrow,” I said. Who knew what he thought of my purchases? I wasn’t exactly the poster child for the nutrition pyramid.
“Bummer,” he said. “Rocky Road is my favorite.”
“Oh.”
“Shall we?” he asked, dusting his hands off on his jeans.
He did the majority of the heavy lifting, and I mostly guided him. Within ten minutes, the couch was downstairs, facing the television. He snapped his fingers and ran back upstairs. A minute later, he returned with a coffee table.
“Now you have something to put the Rocky Road on,” he said, smiling. “I guess I have to go. I’ve got more happiness deliveries waiting.”
He gave me the bill, and I paid him, adding a ten-dollar tip. He opened the front door, as if he lived there, and walked out. “It was nice meeting you. Have a great rest of the night.”
“Thank you.” I looked out into the night. The curb was empty, not a car to be seen. “How did you get here?”
“My bike. It keeps me in shape so I can eat as much Rocky Road as possible.”
He walked into the darkness, and I heard him as he pedaled away. He had gotten me my magic, happiness ice cream and motivated me to get dressed. Not to mention, he moved furniture. And all with a smile. It occurred to me that I hadn’t learned his name, but it didn’t matter because I would probably never see him, again.
CHAPTER 3
