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I pluck my phone from the back of my jeans to check the itinerary Peter set up for me. My flight leaves tomorrow morning.
Guess I better start packing.
2
Teddie
Completing my morning routine, I hum “Jingle Bells” while checking all the lights, watering the flowers, and picking up any rogue trash blowing around outside from the tourists. The sun shines above me, and the air is warm, but thankfully, it’s not too humid. Some days, the humidity is so high here that you have to avoid going outside. So it’s nice to take advantage of these dryer bouts. And doing my eight a.m. walk of the property helps me gauge what kind of day it’ll be.
Raising my arms, I tilt my head back to feel the warm rays soak into my skin.Today is going to be a good day. I know it!
Once content that everything is picked up, I head back inside to make my usual coffee. My eyes flick up to the clock, where I see it’s about a quarter to nine. So, I grab a second mug, the sugar bowl, and a few of my homemade flavored creamers. There’s a knock at the door, but before I can even think about answering, it opens, and my neighbor, Rose, pops her head in.
“Damn golf cart zooming by. This isn’t a racetrack. People live here!” she grumbles as she enters the kitchen. My grandmother’s best friend brushes past me to sit at the table, raising the hem of her long, yellow dress just enough to slide out her legs and cross her ankles. She always sits like this, insisting that her calves get sweaty if she doesn’tair her legs.
I smile as I pour the steaming brew into our cups. “Are the tourists driving you batty again, Rose?”
“You’re darn right they are!” She shakes her fist as she silently curses them. “They drop in, act crazy for a week, and then rush out, forcing the folks who live here to put up with the mess they leave behind!”
I pour some of my vanilla-cinnamon creamer into Rose’s coffee and some mint chocolate into mine. Handing her mug to her, I soothe, “I’m sure they don’t realize they’re doing it. They’re on vacation, so they’re just not thinking about that kind of stuff.”
Rose sniffs her coffee, taking a cautious sip before smacking her lips. “That’s exactly my point. It’s rude that they don’t think about others, even if they are on vacation.” She gestures to her beverage. “This is delicious, by the way. Is it a new recipe?”
“It’s Gram’s. I just added a tad extra cinnamon.” I sip my drink and allow the mint-chocolatey goodness to flood my taste buds. “Still, don’t you think it’s better to cut people some slack rather than assume everyone has the worst intentions?”
She taps the table with her finger and raises an eyebrow at me. “You know, this is exactly why your grandmother told me to look out for you.”
“Why, because I’m nice?”
“Precisely. Too nice,” she confirms.
I laugh. “I know, Rose. You tell me every day. But even with your constant reminders, I’m always happy to have you here,” I wink. “Your wisdom knows no bounds. Now, what kind of cookies should I bake today? I’m doing a double-batch.”
She sets her empty cup on the table. “A double-batch, huh? You only do that when you have guests coming.”
“Ding, ding, ding! And the next one is arriving later today. They’ll be here for asolid month.” I can hear the excitement in my voice. “I wonder what it’s like to be able to go on vacation for thirty whole days.” I sigh wistfully.
Rose snorts at me. “My dear, you’ve been on vacation forsix months.”
“I’m not on vacation,” I insist, sitting straighter and pushing back my shoulders. “I live here now. Gram left this place to me.” I gesture to the interior, which is adorned floor to ceiling with Christmas decorations. My family has appropriately dubbed it the “Holiday House.”
“Riiight.” Rose nods slowly. “But you don’t have a job. That’s a vacation, Teddie. Maybe you kids call it astaycationnowadays since you’re technically staying home, but I fail to see the distinction. My point is you don’t have to keep to a schedule, and you don’t have to worry about a paycheck. Sounds pretty blissful to me.”
I hold in my sigh as I prepare to defend myself. “The house may be paid off, but I still need money, Rose. So, Idowork. This place is a VRBO. The guests who come herepayto stay, and I try my best to give them a five-star experience so theykeepcoming back. I may be lucky enough to work from home, but that doesn’t mean I’m not working.”
“Oh, phooey.” She swats the air. “No matter how many times you explain this house-hotel thing to me, I’ll never understand it.”
Chuckling, I grab both of our mugs and carry them to the sink. “I’ll gladly explain it to you a million more times. I know you’re bound to understand it eventually.”
She scoffs. “Good luck with that. You know what they say about teaching an old dog new tricks.”
“That it’s super easy and successful a hundred percent of the time?” I flash Rose a cheesy smile.
She shakes her head, but her bemused expression tells me she enjoys that I don’t let her make excuses. “Oh, Teddie, you keep me young.”
“I try to.” Once the mugs are thoroughly washed, I place them upside down on the drying rack and clap my hands together. “Now, back to the crucial topic at hand. What’s on the cookie docket today?”
Rose hums, then suggests, “It’s been a while since you’ve made sugar cookies, right? I know I wouldn’t mind having any extras you bake.”
