“Oh, that’s one of her sons. I can never tell them apart, but she has four. None of them live with her, but you wouldn’t know that based on how often I see them clomping around in the backyard. Can you believe that woman had the nerve to put double-sided tape on my tires?”
“Well, that’s a random thing to do,” I called as I sliced bell peppers and onions. I wasn’t a fan of cooking, but simple thingslike omelets and casseroles were easy,and no one complained—except Trey. He hated my cooking, no matter how easy or complicated the recipe was.
I pushed thoughts of my ex out of my mind as I added a bit of cheese to the omelet and plated it along with some strawberries. Never being much of a breakfast person, I grabbed a new coffee mug and filled it before taking the meal to Dad.
“What made her put tape on your tires?” I asked, handing him the plate and sitting on the couch next to his recliner.
“I may have been a little grumpy when we first met.”
Ah, his personality strikes again.
“Oh, Dad. What did you do?”
“It wasn’t my fault. She came over all bubbly with food right after I moved in. Your mother had just died, and I wasn’t in the best frame of mind.” He pointed his fork at me while he talked, then sighed, grumbling under his breath and spearing a berry.
He took Mom’s death hard—we all did. The diagnosis came out of nowhere, and she passed less than a month later. My two younger sisters and I sold the house we’d grown up in, and helped Dad settle into his new condo. Until he had a heart attack, he played golf three days a week and was in a chess club. Now, his days consisted of watching television and complaining.
“I put fake spiders in her mailbox after the tape incident.”
I snorted, and my coffee almost made its way into my nasal cavity thinking about that poor woman opening her mailbox only to be confronted with a nest of spiders.
“So, you were rude to her and her offering of sustenance, she put tape on your tires in return, and you tried to scare her into leaving you alone?”
“Perhaps.”
“Okay,” I said, drawing out the word and taking another sip of coffee. “Haven’t things died down since then.”
“Nope,” he answered, setting his empty plate on the table beside his chair. He picked up his black coffee and took a sip, arching an eyebrow in an excellent imitation of the guy next door. I considered it a minor victory that he ate his breakfast without complaining about the bland taste and made a mental note to keep bright vegetables with bold flavors in his diet.
“Oh my gosh, Dad. Don’t tell me you’re in a prank war with that lady. I didn’t realize this neighborhood was part of a fraternity.”
“Don’t be absurd. She started it.”
“I beg to differ. If you were being an ass, all she did was retaliate.”
His lip twitched as he tried to hold back a smile before he set his coffee down and crossed his arms. “I was in distress!”
“Of course you were. We were all distressed. But that’s no excuse for acting like a jerk.”
“You’re my daughter, not my mother,” he huffed as his smile bled through any annoyance from me calling him out.
“Don’t forget caregiver, you invalid,” I chided, reaching across the space between us to kiss him on the cheek.
“Don’t remind me.”
“Okay then. Enough about fake bacon and whatever prank war you have going on. There is a question I’ve been wanting to ask you.”
He grabbed the remote and turned the television down, twisting his body and hissing in pain with the movement.
“Who is Camilla Anisley?”
“Oh my. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in years.”
“I feel like I’ll need another cup of coffee to hear this story.”
“Refresh mine too, won’t you?”
I took both cups and refilled them, reaching for the letter that was still stuffed in my pocket as I returned.
