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A few days later, susanCalhoun came over again.
This time, she carried the promised/threatened casserole, which smelled like broccoli and cheddar cheese. Susan didn’t wait to be invited in, breezing by Iris with a determined expression. She seemed to be taking inventory of the house, her eyes narrowed as they darted around the front room.
“Here,” she said, shoving the glass dish into Iris’s hands. “Enjoy! I’m a great cook, if I do say so myself. You can get me a cup of coffee while you pop that in the fridge, then we’ll have a nice chat. It’ssogreat to have someone close to my own age in the neighborhood!”
Since Iris estimated Susan to be on the other side of forty, she winced inwardly. She stared at the casserole she didn’t want and wished she had the ability to teleport away. “Coffee. Right.”
She met Eli in the kitchen, who shot a troubled look past her toward the front room. “We have a visitor?”
“Yeah, one of the neighbors. I’ll get rid of her. She’s…” Words actually failed her.
“Not great?” he offered.
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“You will be remembered for your service,” he said solemnly.
After putting away the casserole, Iris intentionally made a bad cup of instant coffee and carried it out to her unwelcome guest. “Enjoy.”
Susan didn’t so much as sip the coffee, proving it had been an excuse to stick around. And Iris would have to interact with her again in returning the damn Pyrex dish. After dealing with Mom, Lily, and Rose, Iris was wise to the ways of manipulative people, but she wasn’t so great at getting rid of them.
“I’m a little disappointed,” Susan said.
“About what?”
“Your lack of progress in fixing up the place. You’ve been here for a while, haven’t you? Now, I don’t like to meddle, but I’m positive I mentioned that hazard of a porch when we first met! If you don’t fix up this eyesore, I’ll have to contact the city. Youdorealize there are certain safety standards?”
Iris finally lost her patience. She got up, strode to the kitchen, retrieved the casserole, and pushed it into Susan’s hands. “Look, I’m not made of money. I’ll do what I can, as I can, but I have no intention of being blackmailed. You should go.”
That wasn’t even half of what she wanted to say, and somehow she managed to swallow the rest of the tirade as she herded Susan onto the porch of doom. Good Lord, could the woman be more dramatic?
Iris tried to shake off the annoyance and bury herself in her work—to no avail. She wanted to vent to Eli or Henry Dale, but her two roommates kept to themselves, and she didn’t feel free todump her frustrations on them. Eli was so nice that he’d probably listen, even if he’d rather be doing literally anything else. As for Henry Dale…
The old man spent most of his time in the shed with machine noises periodically whirring as he worked on the cabinet doors. For some reason, he’d enlisted Eli’s help, which she felt a bit bad about, as she hadn’t promised to discounthisrent in exchange for physical labor, and truthfully, she couldn’t afford to either.
She waited for him to bring it up on his own, but he never said a word. Eli was shy and awkward, and he could barely make eye contact. That was surprising, as handsome men usually oozed self-confidence and made nuisances of themselves without any encouragement at all. Not that she should think of her roommates that way.
Whatever his motivation for helping out, Eli had packed all the contents of the cupboards into cardboard boxes and had washed, then sanded the wooden part of the cupboards. Now he was carefully repainting them, presumably according to Henry Dale’s instructions, so everything would match. They’d also put down some kind of ammonia solution to brighten up the white squares on the vinyl flooring. The black tiles didn’t show wear as much, and the end result was frankly impressive.
“It looks great in here,” she said later that day after she calmed down from Susan’s less-than-delightful drop-by.
Henry Dale nodded. “House has good bones, just needs a little elbow grease.”
And paint.
“Could you hand me that pack of screws?” Eli asked.
Iris did that, and for a moment, she simply admired the pulland bunch of his muscles as he lifted the cabinet door into place while Henry Dale installed it. Then she shook her head, irritated with herself for noticing. She left them working in the kitchen with the cabinet doors glossy, finished, and looking good as new.
Upstairs, the attic was quiet and cozy. Autumn meant the heat felt just right up here, and she headed for her worktable and sketched for a bit, creating and discarding five different designs before settling on the sixth. Happily, she tapped the page and got to work making the necklace. In the online listing, she’d call this one Golden Sunrise, not that anyone would buy it. At least her expenses were covered for the month, even if she wouldn’t be living in luxury.
The work kept both her hands and mind busy, so time flew. It was full dark when she finished. She didn’t have the equipment she needed to take proper photos, such as special lights, but she could make do. Once she rented another room, the budget would loosen a bit, and she might be able to get some lights and props to make the photos look more professional. Using a desk lamp and a scarf, she took the best photos she could and then polished them in a photo-editing app. As the last step, she created the listing and wrote a poetic description for the necklace.
Is there any point to this? I need to promote the online shop, and—
“Iris?” A soft tap at the door pulled her from depressing thoughts.
“Yeah?”
