1. Lanie #2
Opening the fridge, I’m relieved to find Nana still hasn’t let me down.
Within minutes, the bottle’s open and I’ve poured myself a large glass.
Walking into the living room, I sink into my favorite end of her couch.
I should finish unpacking my bags, but I need a breather.
As I listen to the constant whir of the wind and waves crashing against the shore outside, I understand why Nana would often sit and do the same.
Not wanting to get lost in my past or contemplate a future without her, I clear my mind and simply exist in this moment.
A sense of peace washes over me as I sip my Moscato.
It’s like I can feel her presence and she’s still here watching over me.
I’m not sure how long I stay in this state, but before I know it, my glass is empty. Reluctantly, I pull myself back to reality and head to the kitchen. After refilling my glass of wine, I return to my room, grab a hanger, and get to work.
By the time I slip into my sheets, my eyes will barely stay open. I’m not sure which had a greater effect––the wine or the stress of the day. Either way, I’m beat. I’m not even sure my head hits the pillow before I fall into a coma-like sleep.
I don’t even dream. I’m that tired.
That is until a scene from a horror movie I watched as a kid comes to life.
Bolting straight out of bed to the sound of a chainsaw coming through the house, I’m on my feet in an instant.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Someone’s breaking into the house—with a chainsaw?
This cannot be happening.
My heart pounds through my chest as I grab the nearest weapon I can get my hands on and rush to the stairs. There’s no way I’m going down without a fight.
As soon as my feet hit the floor in the living room, I realize the sound is actually outside on the front deck, but I’m still not having it. There’s no way in hell I’m letting anyone do anything to Nana’s house if I can help it. This place is everything to me .
Swinging open the door so hard that it nearly rips off the hinge, I stomp onto the front deck. As soon as I spot the culprit leaning against the wall using a tool that is most definitely NOT a chainsaw to cut at the house—I scream above the noise. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The cutting continues as if he hasn’t heard a word I said.
Spotting the extension cord on the opposite side of the deck, I march over on a mission and unplug it. Instantly the shrilling machine silences and a low oath rips from the man’s lips as he inspects his machine before locating the cord.
His eyes widen and he stands to his full height. Holy shit. I didn’t think this through. He’s considerably taller than me, but I'm too angry to care.
Swinging the coat hanger in his direction for emphasis, I shout, “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
He eyes me up and down and then lands on the coat hanger I’m wielding in my hand as his hands drop to his sides and a smirk forms on his face. His shoulders straighten and his chin juts out as one brow raises in speculation. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”
“This is my house and you’re trespassing,” I remind him with authority.
“No, I’m not.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, yet doesn’t let go of the tool he’s carrying.
“Yes, you are. You’re not only trespassing, but you’re also disturbing the fucking peace.”
Damn. Just how tall is this guy? He can’t be much older than me, and I’m fairly certain he’s not dangerous, but even from the distance I’ve kept between us, I’m forced to crane my neck up to look him in the eye.
Before I can let his height detour me, I continue my rant.
“You have no right being on my property, let alone destroying it at the fucking ass-crack of dawn,” I spit out like a petulant child.
“Here I am, enjoying my first full day of summer, only to be woken to the sound of a saw coming through my fucking wall. Just who the hell do you think you are?”
His jaw ticks for a few moments, then a heavy breath is released.
“First, it’s not the ass-crack of dawn. It’s already seven-thirty and the sun’s been out for hours. Second, I’ve been hired by Jane Lancaster to do some renovations on the place, so I’m clearly not destroying it.”
At the mention of my grandmother’s name, I hesitate for the briefest of moments and mutter, “That’s… not possible.”
“I assure you, it is,” he firmly states, looking down at me from his towering height. His muscles twitch under his well-fitted black t-shirt. He’s not bulky, but he isn’t a string bean, as Nana would say, either. No, he fills out his lengthy form perfectly.
Taking a breath, I stammer out the words I hate to admit. “That’s… really… not possible. She’s been gone… since… January.” My chest aches as if those words are once again a finality that Nana’s really gone.
Clenching his jaw, he sighs heavily. I watch impatiently as his eyes dart to the hanger in my hand, then down my body before returning to meet my gaze.
“Look, I’ve got the contract in my truck,” he starts out forcefully, then looks to the sky before adding, “Can you put on some pants, so we can talk about this? And maybe stow your killer coat hanger while you’re at it. I don’t mean you any harm.”