“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Angie warned her.
Chapter 7
H er arms loaded down with groceries, Cassie hurried over to the elevator. “Mr. Oliver, hold that door for me!” she cried frantically, trying not to drop the quart of milk dangling from her index finger.
Mr. Oliver pretended not to hear, and the doors glided shut in her face.
Cassie ground her teeth in frustration. This wasn’t the first time Mr. Oliver had purposely let the elevator close as she ran toward it. She’d watched him do the same thing with other residents. Obviously it gave him some kind of thrill. She might have imagined it, but Cassie swore she saw a glimmer of sadistic humor in his eyes as the doors slid closed.
She lowered one bag to the floor and pushed the call button. While she waited, she went to collect her newspaper, only to discover the slot was empty—and it wasn’t even Tuesday. Apparently Mrs. Mullinex was now clipping coupons from the Sunday edition, as well.
Perhaps it was time to confront the retired schoolteacher.
Cassie took the elevator up to the fifth floor, brought her groceries to the kitchen, and walked down the hallway to Mrs. Mullinex’s unit. Outside her neighbor’s door, she rang the bell until she heard footsteps on the other side.
“Hold your horses,” Mrs. Mullinex called out.
She answered the door, wearing her housecoat and slippers. Her head was covered in pink curlers and wrapped with a bandanna knotted directly above her forehead. It wasn’t a look Cassie saw very often these days—if ever.
“Why, Cassie, how nice of you to stop by,” she said pleasantly. “Can I offer you a glass of eggnog?”
“Oh, no, thank you.” Cassie made an attempt to be neighborly or at least polite. “Uh, I believe you have my newspaper.”
Her neighbor seemed startled, as if the suggestion that she might have taken something not hers was a devastating insult. Mrs. Mullinex raised one hand to her mouth in a gesture of innocence. “Oh, dear, was that your paper?”
Cassie held out her hand.
The older woman slowly retrieved the thick weekend edition and reluctantly placed it in Cassie’s outstretched hand. “I was wondering, dear, if you wouldn’t mind letting me have the section with the New York Times crossword puzzle.”
Cassie clutched the paper to her chest.
“Only when you’re finished with it, of course.”
“I happen to enjoy doing the crossword puzzle, Mrs. Mullinex.”
“Oh.”
Wondering if she’d been a little too inflexible, Cassie returned to her own condo, put away her groceries and made a cup of coffee. She sat down with the paper, prepared to relax. She’d just turned to the middle section, grabbed a pen—doing the crossword puzzle in pen was a matter of pride—when the rap music started next door. The whole room seemed to vibrate. Cassie groaned. There was no question: the fates were conspiring against her.
Getting up from her chair, Cassie pounded her fist against the kitchen wall hard enough to rattle her dishes. She had to repeat the pounding twice before the music was lowered to a tolerable level.
Settled once more, she rested her feet on the ottoman, crossed her ankles and savored the first sip of coffee when her doorbell rang.
“Oh, for the love of heaven,” she muttered, tossing down the pen. If it turned out to be one of her annoying neighbors—whom she’d be having dinner with all too soon, according to Simon—she didn’t know what she’d say.
To her astonishment, it was her brother, toting a five-foot Christmas tree.
“Shawn, what are you doing here?” Normally she’d be fortunate to see him twice in four months, and this was his second visit to Seattle in as many weeks.
“Are you complaining?”
“Of course not!”
“I come bearing gifts.” He thrust the Christmas tree into the room.
“So I noticed.”
Shawn grinned. “I thought you could use a bit of Christmas cheer.” He stepped into the condo and leaned the tree against the living room wall. “This also seemed like a good excuse to stop by so you could tell me how everything went yesterday.”
Had it only been the day before that she’d stood in the cold, soliciting donations? That didn’t seem possible, and yet Cassie hadn’t stopped thinking about the experience. What remained uppermost in her mind was the time she’d spent with Simon at the coffee shop. He’d been frank, unemotional, honest. She amended that to brutally honest. When she’d met him, she’d considered him rude and arrogant, but since then she’d had a change of heart. Simon, she decided, was simply…direct. He said what he felt and didn’t moderate his opinions in deference to other people’s flimsy egos. She’d never met anyone quite like him.
“Well?” Shawn prodded her.
“Who do you want to hear about first—Mr. Scrooge, who wasn’t sent by Simon as a test,” she added, “or would you rather I told you about the woman who threw coffee at me because she thought I’d flirted with her husband?”
Shawn flopped down on the sofa. “Both, and while you’re up, I’ll take a cup of that coffee.”
“Sure,” she said, while she got a mug and filled it to the brim. “You won’t believe what he said to me.”
“Scrooge?”
“No, Simon. I asked if he liked me and he said ‘not particularly.’ What’s so funny is the fact that—”
“Funny? You thought this was funny?”
“Not at first,” she admitted. “The thing with Simon is that he wasn’t being intentionally rude. He’s the most plainspoken man I’ve ever encountered.”
“Sounds like a bore to me.”
“I called him a dolt.” She smiled at the memory. “He didn’t much like that.”
“So he can dish it out, but he can’t take it?”
“Well, he certainly isn’t used to it.”