I saw a flicker of uncertainty cross Carson’s face as the doors shut. Okay, great, now I just needed to bring in a huge client. No big deal.
* * *
I greeted Nyah and Trent as I hustled to my office. No one seemed to care that I was late, which I appreciated. I had a feeling Carson would be making a federal case out of it to Miguel, and I didn’t really need anyone else to pile on.
I dropped my bag in a desk drawer and fired up my computer. I wanted to check my email and see if the meetings I’d set up had been confirmed. While my desktop booted up, I remembered the envelope taped to my door and retrieved it from my bag.
I used my thumb to break the seal and opened the note. I recognized the handwriting with its particular precision right away. The letters were squared off and thick as if the writer meant what he wrote and wrote what he meant—there was an air of authority about the handwriting that made me take notice. I quickly scanned the lines and the word busted leapt to mind.
Tenant:
At exactly seven o’clock last night, you were seen entering the hot tub with what appeared to be an alcoholic beverage. Per the list of rules that was delivered to you upon your arrival, the pool is for the exclusive use of the homeowner. It would be greatly appreciated if you could refrain from using the facilities during the duration of your stay.
—Daire
So the curtain twitch had been the old guy. I stared at the note. I was torn between laughing my head off and crumpling the note up into a tight little wad in my fist and tossing it in the trash.
Tenant? Again, the crotchety old geezer didn’t even use my name. Surely he knew it from where I’d signed the lease in at least seven different places. And the way he signed his name. Daire. I said it out loud with all the condescension I could muster.
I didn’t crumple the note. Instead, I shoved it in the top drawer of my desk and contemplated what I should do. I thought about asking Miguel or Sophie for advice, but I didn’t want to drag them into this. It was likely Daire—I said it in my head with a partial lip curl of annoyance—would tell them himself, which would be awkward enough.
No, my best line of defense here was clearly a strong offense. Maybe I could bring the old guy a pizza as a peace offering while I pleaded my case that the hot tub was a separate feature and therefore not covered by the rule stating no use of the pool. I had genuinely loved my time soaking in the tub and didn’t want to give up access. I wondered if I could broker a deal with the inflexible curmudgeon.
Maybe I could convince him to give me use of the hot tub at certain times of the day, like at night when he was asleep. I could promise not to make any noise. I mentally scanned the evening before and wondered if I’d made any sounds, you know, like singing, whistling, or talking to myself. It happened sometimes. I doubted it as I had been determined to go undetected but maybe I’d blown it. It had been pretty great, soaking up the heat under the stars. I might have gotten carried away. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Newly determined, I opened the file on my computer and began to work. I met with all of my team members and got up to speed on their projects. I made some suggestions, which were well received, so I felt like things were off to a good start. It was exciting to be working with other creatives again.
There was some righteous talent at Vasquez Squared. This didn’t surprise me since Sophie had a real eye for talent, and Miguel was brilliant at pulling the very best out of his staff. They had an ambitious plan to be one of the top design firms in the country, and I knew them well enough to know they wouldn’t quit until they got there.
Feeling guilty for arriving late, I ate lunch at my desk, working to make up the lost time. Soph popped in for a minute but she and Miguel were presenting a corporate identity proposal to an international soap company located in the Valley, so they were out of the office for most of the afternoon. Normally, I would have gone with them on a new business pitch, but they were giving me some time to get my sea legs, which I appreciated.
Throughout the day, I revisited Daire’s note. While debating various responses, I found myself doodling on a fresh piece of paper with a fistful of random colored pencils that I’d taken from the supply cupboard. It was a simple drawing, depicting my version of a mighty saguaro cactus, framed by a variety of cactus blossoms. Beside the cactus was a small pond, an oasis, with a lone fish, a koi type all flowing fins and shiny scales.
Below the picture, I wrote:
Landlord:
Please excuse the misunderstanding. I would like to respectfully point out that the hot tub was not listed in “the rules,” and after a long day at work I couldn’t resist it. Please accept the enclosed drawing as an apology but I would also request that you reconsider the use of the hot tub. If there is any time of day that my use would be acceptable, it would be greatly appreciated.
Annabelle Martin
I had no idea if he would take the salutation as one of snark or not. I hoped the gift of the picture would soften him up at least a little. I supposed if he said “no,” I would learn to live with it, but it seemed awfully selfish of him. What good were things like hot tubs if they weren’t frequently used?
I found an envelope in the office to put the picture in and stored it in my bag. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get it to him, but I’d worry about that when I got home. Not wanting to eat another frozen pizza, I called for a car to pick me up and take me to the grocery store.
When I arrived home, I unpacked my groceries and then moved to the doors to stare at the big house that loomed across the yard. It seemed the protocol was to leave the note on the front door. Okay, then.
I found some tape in the utility drawer and took it with me. I walked briskly down the path that cut through the side yard and led to the front door of the big house. The sun had set, leaving a smoky blue dusk behind that shifted into darkness by invisible degrees.
The path was lined with short garden lamps, making pools of light that I strode through as I walked to the house. The night was chilly and I noted the lack of noise. No cars could be heard tucked away this far from the main roads, and the songbirds had obviously called it a day. I was right behind them. I could not wait to microwave my bowl of prepackaged ramen and put on my pajamas.
When I reached the house, I hesitated. There was a light illuminating the front door, but the windows on either side had the same heavy drapery as the back of the house. Truly, if I didn’t know any better, I would think the place was vacant.
Quietly, slowly, cautiously, I approached the front door. No one popped out of the house to yell at me, so I assumed my presence had gone undetected. Cool.
I hurried forward and taped the envelope with my response to the door. Shoving the tape in my pocket, I dashed down the steps and jog-walked the length of the path as if I were fleeing a haunted house but trying to look cool about it. I didn’t breathe properly until I was back at my place, where I quickly locked the door behind me and rested against it as if I’d just robbed a bank and was hiding from the law.