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“Um…no,” I replied.
“The landlord said I can maintain them and use the compost for my planters!” she cried excitedly.
Only Patsy would be excited at maintaining, essentially, garbage.
“That’s great!” I yelled.
“You need to be sure to read my email about the rules of what goes in,” she warned.
“I’ll do that,” I promised.
“’Kay. Sorry to disturb. Enjoy your evening!”
Then she was gone.
“She’s the chick who looks after all the planters around the complex,” I explained to Dad and Deb.
They looked around the space before Deb said, “She’s good at it.”
“They’re great,” Dad added. “But compost will make them awesome.”
I wasn’t sure how much more awesome they could get, and I envisioned a courtyard that was a riot of flowers, like Scott and Louise’s yard was a riot of green, and I didn’t think this would suck.
“Sorry to interrupt!” we heard from the other side.
I looked to see Jacob with a hand on the edge of his door, his head and shoulders sticking out, looking at us.
“Hey, Jacob!” I called.
“What time is Luna’s gig again?” he asked.
“Starts at seven thirty,” I answered.
“Right. Later,” he replied, but Alexis ducked under his arm and shouted, “Hey, Raye. Hey, Cap. Hey, Raye’s Dad and Missus.”
“That’s Jacob and Alexis,” I murmured to the table.
Deb was game, she was so relieved no one had run them out on a rail—in fact, the opposite—she cried, “Hey there!”
Jacob was pulling her away when Alexis shouted, “Enjoy your dinner!”
The door closed on them.
“Just to say, this might happen all night,” I warned them.
“That’s okay,” Deb bopped in her chair, settling in. “It makes it festive.”
I loved she looked at it that way.
“So, I have to make my sangria for Luna’s birthday party,” I began. I also had to figure out a present for her, which was the reason for the trip to Anthropologie yesterday, from which I personally came out a winner, but my present-buying mission was a bust. “But other than that, we have all day tomorrow. Though, I have to carve some time out to figure out what to buy Luna. So what do you want to do? We can do brunch at Snooze, and then maybe go to the Botanical Gardens for a couple of hours. Or, if it’s nice, we can take a walk down the canal and maybe hit up a restaurant in Scottsdale. Or?—”
“I’m gonna sit by the pool,” Dad declared. “And you can sit with me, though I think you should take Deb shopping. She can help you buy your friend a present. She’s great at that type of thing.”
Deb’s eyes on me were bright.
“I’m a terrible gift-giver,” I warned her.
She waved her hand in front of her face. “Oh, poo. I’m sure that’s not true.”
