“Finally?” he echoed.
Her heels clacked down the wooden stairs with dull thuds.
“Why, yes, dear. Finally. I’ve been waiting for you.” She strode more or less securely across the grass separating the path leading up to her house from our driveway.
Tane shot me another quick glance, tilting his head to the side as though trying to solve a puzzle.
“For us?” he questioned.
“That’s what I just said, dear.” She stopped a few yards away from us, scrutinizing us from head to toe, before turning her gaze to me. “Not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, that one, is he?”
Tane’s head jerked back in bafflement, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.
“What?” he spluttered. “Why—”
I had to bite back a laugh. Usually I was the one getting accused of being slow on the uptake — this was a nice change.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure you’ve got other things going for you.”
The woman smiled brightly at him, then clasped her hands together in front of her.
“I was beginning to think this house would stay empty until I died. And trust me, it could happen any day now. There wasn’t anything wrong with Mrs. Fitz-Henry, of course. She used to live here, incidentally, before her children dragged her off to a nursing home. Poor lady. You wouldn't get me into one of those places. If it ever comes to that, just take me into the woods and shoot me. Although she did steal my chicken salad recipe, so maybe she doesn’t deserve my pity after all … oh well, now!” She clapped her hands together once. “Shall we?”
I was seriously questioning myself at this point. Had I missed something? Was this a fever dream?
“Um — what?”
Completely unperturbed, she marched straight up the steps to our front porch without so much as glancing in our direction. “I’ve been dying for a tour. And you know, I could die any day now, so it’s best to get things done while you can,” she called over her shoulder.
Tane’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide. “She’s taking thepiss, right?”
“Does she look like she is?” I said under my breath but followed her anyway because apparently I’m the kind of idiot who lets strange women break into my uncle’s new house.
She was already in the living room, hands on her hips, turning in a slow circle like a general surveying her troops. Her gaze landed on the boxes stacked against the far wall.
“That one,” she said, pointing to the top box with a lacquered nail, “goes in the kitchen. And your couch does not belong here.” She swiveled to glare at Tane. “If you put it against that wall, the whole room will look lopsided. Move it there—” she instructed, jabbing a finger towards the window, “—so the light doesn’t bounce off the television. You’re welcome.”
Tane's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “I—uh—”
“Don’t thank me,” she cut in briskly. “I’m only saving you from yourself.”
I set my box down just to see what would happen. Sure enough—
“No, no, not there.” She shooed at me like I was a wayward cat. “That corner makes the whole space feel cramped. Center it, dear boy. Think balance.”
I fought back a grin and dragged the box exactly two feet to the left.
She nodded, satisfied. “Better. Those curtains are dreadful, by the way. Burn them.”
Tane made a strangled sound. “What?”
“They look like they belong in a motel in Reno,” she said, already pivoting toward the kitchen doorway. “The cabinets will need repainting. Something warm. Yellow, maybe. Unless you cook, in which case white would be better. Do you cook?”
“Yes?” Tane sounded more defensive than was necessary for a one-word answer.
“Then white, dear.”
I had to duck my head so she wouldn’t catch me laughing. She’d known us all of two minutes and already had our entire domestic future planned out.
