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The first doggy incident happened during that first week in my new home on Bristol Lane. Sinatra had decided to pay me a visit and sat on my welcome mat howling until I let him in. He snooped around a bit and was in no hurry to leave. He even made himself comfortable on the couch in my lounge, until Ernie came over asking if I had seen a small dark brown dog with floppy ears and a cute grin. I opened the door and showed my new neighbor into the lounge, saying, “Like this one, here on my couch?”
Yes. Sinatra. He’s a character alright. But I probably wouldn’t have gotten to know Ernie, who is now my friend, if Sinatra hadn’t called around to say hi that day.
Outside in the chilly evening air on Bristol Lane, we stop and listen for any of Sinatra’s customary noises. All is quiet. We start walking, calling his name as we go, then stopping to listen for any woof of reply. I shine my flashlight under hedges and into the shadows of the other properties on the street. Nothing.
“How about we go back to your house Ernie, before we look further afield? He may be home already. What do you think?”
Ernie nods sadly with his shoulders hunched. We go around the back because Ernie doesn’t use his front door. He can’t open it because there’s a heap of stuff he keeps leaning up against it on the inside. As we enter through the less-than-adequate back gate we’re greeted by Ernie’s short-legged hound who jumps up, tail wagging, and woofs an excited hello.
“Sinatra!” Ernie says gleefully. “Where have you been, you rascal?”
Sinatra comes over to me, shimmies around my legs, and accepts an affectionate ear ruffle.
“Oh, you little terror! You had us worried,” I say to Sinatra. Then I straighten up addressing Ernie directly. “The fence, Ernie.”
“I know. I’ll get onto it this week.”
“Cool. Let me know if you need a hand, okay?”
“Sure,” says Ernie as he picks Sinatra up and nuzzles the dog’s neck. The mischievous scamp is as happy as the old man, wriggling, and wagging his tail, and licking Ernie’s face.
“Ah, my poor boy. Bet you’re hungry, huh? Yeah. I knew you’d come home at dinnertime.”
Happy to see the best friends reunited, I say goodnight and leave them to it.
At home, I feel suddenly tired from all the drama of the day. I flop down on my couch and my thoughts return to Cam Wickham, one of the handsome firefighters, who would possibly be my new neighbor. But was he handsome? Or was he just an average man in a firefighter’s uniform? I recall his kind smiling eyes; the broad shoulders and the way he climbed, athletically, over the locked gate; his dark brown hair and the fine close-cropped beard; his noble profile that I snuck a look at when he was driving.
Why does it matter to me if he moves in next door? Why do I care? I don’t. He’s not going to be around long anyway, even if I did think he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. It’s not as if he’s a proper neighbor. He’s just here for a short time. Temporary. Still, it’s nice to be neighborly. Polite. Friendly. Cordial. I’ll wave if I see him in the street. And if he wants a cup of sugar or…
I stand up, find my bag where I dumped it, and my phone. I pull it out and turn it on to check calls and messages. There’s one from Mrs Radley, the chairperson of the Annual Spring Fair committee, and one from Lydia, my bestie and owner of the florist shop downtown. I skip the one from Mrs Radley for now. I know what the contents will be. But Lydia’s looks intriguing. I open it up and read.
Molly, babe. How are you? You won’t believe what I have witnessed today. The most handsome man that I have ever laid eyes on. He is an absolute dream! You have got to meet this man, hun. I am telling you! And, this is the best bit…. he’s new in town. No, this is the best bit… he’s a firefighter! That’s it for now. I’ll try and find out more soon. Let’s have lunch tomorrow? xx
Lydia. She makes me laugh so much with her matchmaking ways. I hit reply and send a smiley face, but I don’t say anything about Cam Wickham or the ride home or the possibility of a hot new neighbor. I can just imagine her face if she knew about that.
Chapter 4
Cam
There really wasn’t any choice with my rental situation. I didn’t want to spend a heap of my precious free time looking for a place to live for such a blip on the calendar. The pretty neighbor with the cute smile next door had very little influence on my decision. And that is what I keep telling myself. But the day after I looked around the outside of the property on Bristol Lane with Molly, I went to sign the lease at the real estate agents.
The nice lady realtor, Ms Jenkins, was surprised that I didn’t want a viewing of the interior of the house at number four and kept asking me if I was sure about my decision to sign on the dotted line. She handed me a folder and told me there were other attractive rentals in the area, as she opened her laptop and typed something in.
“Have a look through the listings and we can make some viewing appointments,” she says, brightly, looking at me over the top of her reading glasses.
“Ummm. Or I could just sign the lease on the Bristol Lane property?”
Ms Jenkins appraises me across her desk, removes her glasses, and says, “If that is your wish, then alright, but…”
“Well, put it this way. If you are confident that there are no major structural issues with the building’s construction…”
“No, sir. The house is sound, and we have the surveyor’s report right here.” Ms Jenkins reaches over to the folder where I left it on the desk in front of me.
“Great. Where do I sign?”
“You really don’t want to see inside at all?”
“Does it have a functioning bathroom?”
