Page 19 of A Light in the Dark

NINETEEN

I will try to remind him to be sensible.

Peace came in many shapes and sizes, and Madeline found her personal heaven in hockey tickets and sewing supplies. While I did buy a new machine for myself, upgrading to a model better capable of handling silk, I spent most of the time helping Madeline. Once she finished, I snagged ten yards of black rabbit fur wool to turn into a suit for Joel, assuming I could steal his measurements.

As promised, I hired a cab to her hotel, and the driver helped unload her sewing machine, going as far as taking it up to her room. He also helped carry my new acquisition into mine, earning himself a nice tip for the hassle. I was reading the manual on my new toy in my kitchen when a soft glow drew my attention to the window.

Joel visited my roses, which were still in their travel pots and awaiting planting. I set aside the papers, unlocked my back door, and stepped outside, drawing in a slow and long breath. “I’ll be planting everything tomorrow after work. Today, I took my co-worker to the fabric store, where she went on a rampage rather similar to mine but with sensible materials.”

The luna moth shifter fluttered his wings and went to land on a new bloom.

I gave it ten minutes before the man was so high he couldn’t see straight. Laughing over his inability to leave my roses alone, I went inside, dug out a piece of fruit from my fridge, and cut it up for him. Leaving the door open, I returned to my investigation of my new machine, which had cost an unholy amount of money and could embroider by itself with minimal help and guidance from me.

Eventually, my winged guest came inside for his snack, and as he had last time he’d been given free rein to enjoy the roses, he passed out on my counter. Amused over the whole situation, I closed the door and went about my business, taking my rabbit fur wool upstairs before moving the old sewing machine out of my craft room and relocating it to the table and hauling my new prize to where it belonged. By the time I finished, Joel had roused himself enough to take up residence on the old machine. “It eats silk for breakfast, velvet for lunch, and we don’t discuss what it does to satin. That machine only accepts cotton fiber, and it does so grudgingly. If it weren’t illegal, I’d chuck it out of the second story window into the flood waters.”

The luna moth fluttered his wings at me, and he followed me around my home while I did my chores before settling in at my window nook to read a book. He picked the nearby lamp as another napping spot, and I settled in to the serious business of relaxing before having to deal with a long week of rogue invoices, unregistered payments, and hockey fanatics going wild. When my bedtime rolled around, I worked my hand under the sleeping luna moth, carried him to my back door, and bounced him until he woke up. “Off you go. It’s sleep time, and as it’s not Friday or Saturday night, you’re free to go.” I laughed, tossed him into the air, and smiled as he fluttered away, landing on the neighboring rooftop, likely to regain his bearings after having been sent off in such a rude fashion. Only when he took to the sky a second time did I close my door.

The next morning, I went about my business, went into work to discover a hyperactive Madeline twirling around in a sundress made from fabric she’d acquired the night before, pausing only to sort through papers in her hands, assign them to one of the many piles on the floor, and resume her journey through the space, somehow dodging the papers without tripping. I sipped my tea, which I’d hauled to work in a green leakproof tumbler, amused I’d degraded to needing an adult sippy cup to keep from making a mess on my work.

I assumed my new co-worker or my boss had learned from me, as Madeline had a similar cup on her desk but hers was gray.

The source of her activities, in the form of a massive stack of papers, devoured a quarter of our usual space. “Mr. Accor, what have you done to my office?” I wailed, aware only one person would be so brave as to dump that much crap on the floor with any expectation of someone—me—cleaning it up.

Our boss came in, and he’d openly joined the adult sippy cup brigade, saluting me with a pale blue one. “Joel relayed our costs to some of his friends and family, and this was faxed to us overnight along with signed contracts, as I’d given him a few boilerplates for him to send to said friends and family. I asked Madeline to separate the sheets by company owner, but you’re to handle the onboarding personally. The Sampson Sigil files will start coming in on Monday.”

That sneaky luna moth. “They’re all from that little town of his, aren’t they?”

“Apparently, his family can’t handle their taxes with grace, and they’re tired of getting hit with penalties, so they’re begging for us to help them. Don’t fret. According to Joel, their files are not complicated. It’s just everything they have for this year so far, and they want us to file their corrections so they pay limited penalties. It’s only a few days per contract for the accountants, and I already warned them. If you’re organizing the chaos, it might only be a day per contract to get them caught up and on a maintenance schedule thereafter. They’re willing to go digital and paper records.”

I loved when companies and individuals were willing to do both. Paper records let us warehouse everything for the required five years, and digital records let us be redundant without investing much extra time. “I’m going to be drowning in papers on Monday, aren’t I?”

“They’re going to be hauling in the papers for this year in a box trailer, so yes. I dealt with crying accountants first thing this morning. His, and it was from joy. You are now a beloved entity in his company, and most of them haven’t met you yet.”

“I will try to remind him to be sensible.”

“Can you remind him after he finishes doing the recruitment work for us? They count towards your production tally, too.”

“I can probably wait to issue those reminders for a week or two.” I laughed, set my cup on the edge of my desk, and giggled at the notes Madeline used to create her zones for storing papers. Each new company had been assigned a hockey team name, and each company had player positions with types of papers in it. “This’ll help a lot. Thank you, Madeline.”

The refugee beamed at the praise. “Mr. Accor brought me this cup this morning, and he said you’d started it, as you hate spilling things on papers, and the cups never leak.”

“Nothing sucks more than getting stains on important work papers. It happened to an accountant once, and she sobbed relentlessly over it. We had to take the pages to a graphics firm to scan and remove the stains to have better copies to work with. I’d already taken to using an adult sippy cup at that point, and we’re all using them now. It’s been a while since we’ve had a spill.”

“Monday, once you’ve started reining in the chaos, I want you to cherry pick which accountants are getting the Sampson Sigils contract. You’re familiar with the strengths and weaknesses of each accountant, so I trust you can put together a strong team. Friday, you’ll be going to the job fair with me. I’ve already gotten our guidelines for requesting interviews. If we feel we need to work Saturday to see the second day of the fair, overtime has been authorized.”

I foresaw having to go to the fair on Saturday if my boss had gone out of the way to authorize overtime in advance. “With luck, we finish everything Friday.” I allowed myself a sigh. “We’re not that lucky, are we? ”

“It’ll be a coin toss,” my boss admitted.

One lost Saturday wouldn’t kill me. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Please don’t add to my day, sir. If you want me going anywhere on Friday, I need to haul ass on this.” I took another sip of my tea and regarded the maze of paper piles. “If you can’t find me, I’m probably under a fallen stack. Just kick papers until you find me.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t get crushed from the paperwork,” Madeline said, returning to her sorting, twirls and all.

If I could bottle the woman’s joy, I’d make a fortune. Rather than indulge in a fit of jealousy over her happy state, I cracked my knuckles and went to work.

There were new faces on my street, and something about them bothered me. Under the guise of photographing my foundation, a common enough occurrence after the floods, I snapped pictures of them. The first of them, with blond hair, a physique that implied he spent a lot of his time working out, glared at everyone and everything.

I disliked the way his gaze lingered whenever it landed on me.

His companion, on the darker side of the spectrum, also took being dour a step too far for my comfort.

They both wore suits, which was about as out of place as knowing the owner of Sampson Sigils lived a few doors up the hill. Joel, however, made efforts to belong to our strange little street.

The visitors, who mostly hung out on the other side of the road, checking out the businesses still shuttered from the storms, may as well have worn clown suits and danced around. More than a little disturbed, I retreated into my home, texted the photographs to Roger, and notified him of their strange behavior.

Joel’s presence on our street made sense; he’d wanted an affordable home with space in a tolerable location.

I couldn’t think of a single reason for the men to loiter in front of businesses that wouldn’t reopen for at least another month.

As I had a garden that wasn’t going to plant itself, I locked my front door, made certain my windows were also locked, and headed into the back to get my new collection of roses planted, my trellis installed, and my vegetables and herbs situated so I’d have a homey place to retreat. The courtyard amused me for more than a few reasons, but the lack of windows on the homes, except for mine, took the top spot.

The courtyard belonged to my lot, but I saw no reason for that to bar people from having windows to view my garden. Sometimes, the nature of people saddened me, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. On the other hand, I appreciated the illusion of privacy. Winged shifters could pay me a visit, and the rest of the world would pass me by as usual.

Several luna moths fluttered down to investigate my roses. As I had no way of knowing which one was Joel, if one was Joel, I would play hostess. I got up, washed my hands, and prepared a platter of fruit for their enjoyment before I went back to work on the trellises, assembling them and placing them in strategic locations around my new rose plants to create paths through my garden. The lights installed with ease, clipping to the trellis and leaving me to deal with a tangle of electric cords between the plants. I made use of the recommended outdoor covers to protect myself and guests from tripping, bringing order to chaos before wrapping the plugs in a plastic bag and sealing it with tape until I could get everything else set up.

Joel would need to help me with the power bar and the numerous outlets to be protected from the weather.

By the time I finished, my counter was covered in skunked luna moths, the whole lot of them sleeping off their adventure with my flowers and their evening snack. I counted thirty-three of them, twelve of which were females if I judged from their smaller, slender antennae. I practiced using my new camera, photographing each one and taking portraits of them, an art that would provide me many hours of amusement. Once I’d satisfied myself, having taken a few hundred pictures, I put my camera away, got out my project holder, and went to work stitching, pausing every now and then to admire my visitors.

When my stomach demanded dinner, I relocated my guests to the table, and it amused me that most of them barely budged, although one or two fluttered, took flight, and landed elsewhere upon realizing I needed my counter.

I roasted a wild fowl I’d stashed in my refrigerator, and a few minutes before it was ready, I began the process of evicting the luna moths, bouncing them until they woke up and were able to fly off. A couple stayed to get another hit of roses, not that I could blame them.

I’d be spending a lot of time in my garden once I purchased my patio set. I already had the perfect spot picked out, and I planned to install a circle of patio pavers to enjoy my unobstructed view of my outdoor Joseph’s Coats and the myriad of other Earth roses. My herb and vegetable garden took over a corner, where I’d installed trellises to allow entry to the space. I would install a rock wall to give some roses something to vine over while separating the rose garden from the rest of my planting adventures.

After I ate, I cleaned up after myself, went to my reading nook, and discovered a new man in a suit wandering up the hill, investigating the shops across the street and taking notes on a tablet. I went to grab my phone to take a picture, but by the time I’d found it and returned, he’d disappeared.

I questioned what was going on across the street, and I decided I’d go pay a visit to one of the nosier neighbors down the way to see if she might have any insight on the situation.

An hour before I was supposed to leave for work, I knocked on the door of the neighbor at the very end of our row. A moment later, the older woman answered, beamed when she saw me, and thrust out a fancy baking dish in my direction. “You’re a marvel, Valerie.”

I accepted the dish, which was enameled white decorated with a flower and butterfly motif and still warm and indicated my neighbor had been about to pay me a visit. “Thanks, Elenora. I had a question, since you tend to be the one who knows the most about our street.”

“Oh, oh dear, do come in, lovey.”

Lovey? What the hell had happened to Elenora? Typically, she’d be asking for the details while leaving me on the steps, hoping I wouldn’t fall off by the time she finished with me—or contemplating jumping and hoping the impact with the street below would do me in. With a smile I had to force, I accepted her offer and stepped inside. “Is something the matter?”

“The businesses across the street are all selling, and there is a plague of men and women in suits just loitering around and being a bother! And some of them have been knocking at our doors and inquiring if we wanted to sell. I did you and that boy up the street a favor, and I told them there was no chance in hell either of you would be selling, not with how you baby those houses. And good on you for your hard work. We love what you did with the steps this year, and we’re seeing about if we can get them shored because they’re so nice.”

“They probably can’t be shored,” I admitted, allowing myself to express my disappointment in my tone. “But they’re quick and easy to install, and they’re cheap, so we can change up the color of stone and mortar we use each year if we want. This year, I went with the best available for stone and mortar, but if we plan for it before the floods hit, we can have our street’s order already placed.” That would save me a great deal of effort, too. I’d still end up hauling massive paving stones up and down the hill, but I bet I could have the installs done in a day if everything was set up and ready to go. “I can talk to everyone before the floods next year and get the preferences for colors of stone and mortar. I’ll go by votes and randomize the selection if there are any ties. That’s simple enough.”

“On this street?” Elenora cackled. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you happy. Still, thank you for dealing with that mess. I was expecting a fuss again this year. Even that boy up the street has steps that matches ours. It’s a miracle. I was certain he’d go with concrete because they mass produce them for the size he needs, so they can just dump it on, level it, and it’s done.”

I could understand why Elenora would think Joel would go the expensive but easy route. “I didn’t even do his steps, but I probably will next year. I offered, and he seems keen on keeping the peace.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. That one doesn’t cooperate with anybody. You’re not sleeping with him, are you?”

I stared at the old woman, and my mouth dropped open while my eyes widened. “Me? Sleep with him ?”

“Two pretty little things like yourselves would make even prettier babies, and if you’re keeping the peace on the street, sleep away. It’s a free world!” Elenora turned around and hollered, “You hear that? I told you that sweet little Valerie wasn’t hussying it up just because we had a lick of peace for the first time! You owe her a damned fine roast now.”

Rather than say something I regretted, I went the safe route, lifted the dish a little, and said, “Thank you for the treat, Elenora. I’ll bring your casserole dish back next week.”

“You let that cool properly while you’re at work, okay? Keep the dish. I got it just for you this year as part of my thanks, and it’s a nice one for roasting just about anything you might like if you can’t figure out how to bake. You’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on, and I know how much you hate being late. If that boy up the hill doesn’t cooperate and offer his services, you just let us know, and we’ll make sure he gets the right idea. He’s been sweet enough he might even deserve you, especially with him doing the right thing this year.”

I would never understand my neighbors. “I’ll make sure it’s properly cool. Thank you!”

Before she could get another word in, I fled her home and returned to mine. I left the casserole dish on my counter and headed for work, marveling at the insanity that was my life.