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But why? By all accounts, he had more reason to file a police report on this woman than to fixate on her smile.
When his doorbell rang, he rushed to answer the door, pretending he wasn’t hoping it would be her.
It wasn’t. But it was a pleasant surprise all the same. Kaitlyn and Gladys, half a century spanning between the pair, greeted him with full hands.
“More housewarming gifts for the new abode.” Gladys offered up a container.
“Oh, wow, you didn’t need to do this.” Bradley took the Tupperware and peeked under the lid. “Chocolate chip, my favourite. And you included the recipe on the lid. How thoughtful.”
“Yeah, congrats on the new crib.” Kaitlyn shoved a ten-box of assorted Timbits at him.
“Very thoughtful as well. Why don’t you two come in and—”
Gladys was already sashaying inside as Kaitlyn started her slow thunk-step process of hauling her medical boot over the threshold.
“Here, let me help you.”
“Thanks.” Kaitlyn leaned her left side into him.
“Weird. I could have sworn the boot was on your right foot last shift.”
She rolled her eyes. “I think I’d know which ankle I sprained, Bradley.”
He could hardly argue with that.
Gladys plunked a basket filled with an assortment of candles and crystals onto the kitchen countertop. “I’ll go ahead and arrange these myself, imbue positive energy about the place, remove any bad vibes left over from the previous tenant.” She began strategically placing the items about the house, lighting candles, blowing them out, muttering to herself. With no orange workman’s apron to tamp down her free-flowing shirt and skirt, and her hair flowing in every direction, Bradley subconsciously started doing the math, wondering if Gladys might be old enough to have been a flower child at Woodstock.
“She’s a bit…tweet-tweet, isn’t she?” Kaitlyn corkscrewed a loose strand of her hair. “But she does drive a pretty sick car.”
“Come on, I’ll show you around while Gladys finishes…doing whatever it is she’s doing.”
“Maybe just the main floor.” Kaitlyn winced and motioned to her boot.
After a short tour, the three of them reunited in the kitchen for a glass of milk and chocolate chip cookies.
“It’s a beautiful place, really, Bradley,” Gladys said. “And so exciting to be living on your own. It reminds me of when I first moved into my house on Meadowview Lane with only my sweet Rover for company, bless his furry little soul.” Her eyes went a touch glassy. “Have I ever told you about my dear Rover?”
“Maybe once or twice,” Bradley said. “But tell me again, would you?”
Kaitlyn stifled a groan by shoving another cookie into her mouth.
Gladys did, in fact, have a habit of working her dearly departed pet dog into most conversations—never mind the pooch had died over two decades ago. Bradley listened patiently every time.
“He was such a smart little thing. Could sniff out a piece of cheese hidden anywhere in the house. He—Oh!” She stopped abruptly, her nostalgic expression instantly sharpening. “I almost forgot.” Gladys liberated a manila envelope from somewhere in the depths of her loose cotton ensemble. “From Barbara.”
Dropping a half-eaten cookie onto the counter, Bradley snatched the envelope and pulled out the pages. Barbara’s fan fiction was addictive enough without him having a predilection for addiction. It reminded him of his teen years, when he’d sneak into his sisters’ room and borrow one of their spicy romance novels, stashing it under his bed until he could get to the happily ever after he craved.
“She wanted to bring them by herself,” Gladys said, a milk mustache covering the subtle fuzz of her real mustache, “but she’s working today and on schedule for three shifts in a row.”
“Speaking of the schedule,” Kaitlyn jumped in. “Once you’re president of the seasonal department, I was thinking—”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Bradley interrupted. “Speaking of the schedule. Weren’t you supposed to work this morning too, Kaitlyn?”
“Who, me?” She placed a hand to her chest. “I don’t think so.” She popped off the stool she’d been perched on and all but sprinted toward the exit despite her wounded ankle. “I think we’ve stayed too long, Gladys. Let’s go. I need to use your Costco card.” She opened the front door and was already down the steps when she called out, “See you at work tomorrow, Bradley.”
“What was that about?” he asked Gladys as he walked her to the door.
“This stays between you and me, but I think she calls in sick to work when you’re not scheduled too.” She nudged him with her elbow, her dangly star-shaped earrings fluttering back and forth. “Not that she does much work when she is there, am I right?” She cackled.
