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First, she waffled on the shipping address.
Next, she fretted it would get stolen by Brock’s staff.
Finally, there was a rapid-fire round of incoming texts in which she sent photos of her wearing the suit so I wouldn’t have trouble identifying it when I reached Brock’s house.
I hold the garment up.
Leena giggles. “Skimpy!”
“It is,” I agree with a laugh.
“Brock’s date needs it back?”
“So she says. I’m off to overnight it to her… What do you think, is the Ship It store on Maple Street a good bet?”
She nods. “Oh, yes. Good people there. Always helpful. And if they’re out on lunch, try the print shop at the end of Juniper Loop.”
“Thank you, Leena. You’ve been super helpful.”
“I’m sorry I put it in with all the other laundry. I do his wash every other day. It was hanging outside the steam room, in the pool area, and I just collected it without thinking much.”
“Brock has a steam room?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. And a sauna, a hot tub, and the lap pool.”
“Man, it must be nice to have that much money. I count myself lucky when my shower works correctly. Half the places I’ve lived in have had the worst water pressure. You know the apartments down across from the park?”
She gives me a hesitant smile. “Oh, do I ever. I lived there for years.” She flaps a pair of Brock’s sweatpants, then smooths a leg over the dryer to eliminate any wrinkles. “Those showers are the worst. A trickle, sometimes. And not even hot! Sometimes?—”
“Cold!” I fill in with a laugh. “I am so glad I don’t live there anymore. Glad you got out, too, by the sound of it. Where are you now?”
“My husband and I rent half of a duplex on Chiswick.”
“That’s a cute neighborhood. You’re lucky.”
“We love it.” She smiles now, for real. “You’re a lot nicer than the last lady who was helping him out, you know that? Oh, that woman and her drama! My word, she liked to work herself up into a frenzy.”
“Hopefully, she’ll find something that’s a better fit.”
We chat about what might be next for Mandy as we step out of the laundry room and through the ground level of Brock’s three-story estate.
His home decor is as minimalist and chic as Epic Elevate headquarters. I spot lots of black leather furniture that doesn’t look all that comfy, a huge gym, a pool area, and several big-screen TVs mounted on walls.
Every surface gleams.
And… where’s his stuff?
The space doesn’t even look lived in, it’s so clean. There are hardly any personal items around the place. The one exception is a pair of bright red, brand-new high-top sneakers by the door.
“You do a fantastic job,” I tell Leena as she leads the way to the front door. “This place is spotless.”
“He makes it easy. Oops. I should get these to his closet.” She stoops to pick up the shoes. “These are limited edition. You don’t want to know what they’re worth. More than my car.” She turns them in her hand, as puzzled by the phenomenon of expensive shoes as I am.
I kicked off my clogs when I entered, and now I slip my feet into them—noting for the first time that my socks don’t match.
Leena goes on while placing the shoes reverently on a bench and dusting the tops with her feather duster. “He’s tidy, you know? No clutter, no frills. Nothing out of place.”
I frown, thinking about my flowers.
