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She’s puttering around out there, doing something on her deck. I think she’s watering her plants out there, but it’s hard to tell. It’s the middle of the day, and over the past month, I’ve come to realize she doesn’t keep regular hours.
I only know her name because she hangs out on her back deck quite a bit. She has a friend, Leanne, which is confusing. They’ve used each other’s names a few times out there on the deck. I know Lu-Anne also has a brother. I admit that a seed of jealousy sprouted in my chest when I spotted her out there with a fairly good-looking guy, laughing and talking so comfortably. Then I realized, from their conversation about their parents, that he was her brother, and I felt ridiculous.
In my defense, there isn’t much else to do here except gawk at my pretty neighbor through the blinds and eavesdrop on her conversation through my open windows.
I watch her dart about on her deck. Her mahogany hair is long, and it swings wild and free around her shoulders. When she bends, it transforms into a beautiful lustrous curtain, and I get little glimpses of her face, which is gorgeous. She’s one of those classic beauties, where all her features are in perfect alignment in just the right proportions. I know she has dark eyes, full lips, and high cheekbones, but I wish I knew what she looked like below the shoulders.
I’ve imagined it, though.
More than once.
I give my head a shake and drop the blinds down. God, I’m pathetic. I’ve surmised Lu-Anne doesn’t have a regular schedule since I’ve seen her out and about at all hours. I’ve gathered she’s either unemployed or self-employed. As far as I know, she doesn’t have a boyfriend or any kids, so it’s strange that she lives out here, alone, in a sea of family homes.
Other than that, I also know her friend, Leanne, has a crush on her history professor, which Lu-Anne likes to bug her about. I also know she has a penchant for sticking large pieces of furniture and other antique items into her tiny hatchback car, which happens to be neon blue. Oh, and she likes to do yard work and have wine on her back deck. But besides all that, I know nothing about her.
Maybe I could go over and introduce myself.
Then again, I know it isn’t an option. It doesn’t matter if I’m intrigued. I can’t blow my cover. If I did, this whole escapade would have been for nothing. I can’t have it be for nothing. I won’t survive another round of this.
Find something to do. Don’t just sit around on your ass, feeling sorry for yourself.
Rob mentioned renovations. Right. I know how to do that. The house isn’t a dump, but it is outdated. I can fix that. I will fix the shit out of it.
Maybe if I keep busy, I’ll actually be able to clear my mind and figure out what my next move is going to be. What all my moves are going to be. This is my life now. I need to go from point A—creeping on my neighbor and feeling sorry for myself—to point B—figuring out how to make the best of a life I never planned for… including the three billion dollars.
CHAPTER 3
Lu-Anne
I’m ashamed to say that before I go to bed, I do my usual sweep of the neighbor’s house. It’s two in the morning, and a few lights are still on in the house, but he never makes an appearance.
I refuse to be disappointed as I slip between the sheets and turn off the lamp on the nightstand by the bed. The room is pitch black, but I can’t sleep. I don’t have any excuse. I worked hard at my travel articles today. I watered and weeded all the plants on the deck and did the same for the small garden, which I’ve successfully managed to make thrive in the yard in planter boxes. I actually cooked dinner for myself instead of just having a bowl of cereal, and I also made muffins since I was bored. After that, I took a book onto the deck and relaxed for a few hours to wind down.
I should be tired.
But, of course, I’m not.
I lay in bed, watching the occasional shadow flit across the ceiling. It doesn’t happen very often since no one drives around the neighborhood in the middle of the night. Usually.
I force myself to keep my eyes closed. I count to a hundred. I count again. And again. But, I’m still wide awake. I’m so far from sleep that I feel like I can spring out of bed and literally go and run a marathon. Okay, maybe a half marathon. Or more like walk a couple of blocks. The point is, I’m jittery. I’m full of restless energy, and I have no outlet for it.
