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2
Nadia
Driving through the perfect modern town I smiled, remembering how far I’d come. Hard to believe I was in a good place. Three years ago, my life was a wreck. My friends and I partied every night. We popped pills. Oxycodone was Katie’s drug of choice and Vicodin was mine. My best friend Katie died in my arms. She overdosed on oxy. Tequila and pill popping were a thing of the past.
After I graduated from college, we moved from Boston, Massachusetts to Coeur d’Alene, Idaho.
I guess you could say I ran the moment my problems became real. Or, I was smart enough to walk away from my remaining troubled friends. Despite the drugs and parties, I graduated magna cum laude. If I wasn’t acting a fool in my spare time, I would have graduated summa cum laude Maybe school was too easy.
My parents worked for the IRS until I was twelve. They withdrew half their retirement savings to open their first public accounting office. They prepared taxes for low-income families. I learned how to prepare taxes when I was sixteen years old. That was when my love of numbers began. Before we knew it, offices popped up all over metro Boston, Maine, and Virginia. My brother George ran the family businesses back home. Staying to help wasn’t an option. Maybe one day I’d return and help my brother.
I looked forward to sunny days and relaxing evenings in my new town. My parents bought two properties in two different retirement communities. One property for them and the other for me. I know what you’re thinking. What twenty-three-year-old woman would move with her parents to a retirement town? One with a checkered past that’s who.
“Good morning, Donna. How are you?”
“I am well thanks for asking.”
“Claudia Vanquez isn’t in today. You’ll need to handle her accounts.” She placed a manila folder in my hand.
Handling other accountants’ files was common, yet still dreaded. I had my own workload. This means I had to work twice as hard.
“On it, Donna. I will be in my office if you need me.”
I waved at several other coworkers as I strolled across the office toward the coffee machine. Caffeine was my refuge. The strong, dark roast dangled under my nose. I inhaled all of its goodness with my eyes closed. Better get a move on.
An hour later, I opened the mini blinds in my office. Sometimes I worked better with minimal natural light. Stretching my arms, I yawned, then dove back into the spreadsheets.
“This can’t be right.” I said aloud.
I hunched over the keyboard glowering the computer screen. Claudia’s books were off. Some of the company’s office spaces reflected they were rented when I knew they weren’t. Every Saturday on my morning walk downtown Coeur d’Alene, I peeked into the window of an office space that was vacated six months ago by a Real Estate office. No one was currently renting that office. To play it safe, I copied the addresses of the other offices. If they were rented who would pay such obscene rent? Ten -twenty thousand dollars a month for a small space. The typical rent ranged from twelve hundred to fifty-seven hundred a month depending on the size of the office.
I wrapped up work early today. Needed to avoid rush hour traffic.
“Donna, I am headed out. See you tomorrow.”
“Have a great afternoon, Nadia.”
The first property’s parking lot was desolate. I exited my charcoal gray Audi truck. The building was medium in size. Housed ten office spaces. I cupped my hands against the glass, peeking inside. Maybe I should take a closer look. I unlocked the door with the spare set of property keys I kept in my desk. Rarely had I used the keys. Mr. Grenache trusted I’d keep an eye on the properties from time to time. I strolled up and down the hall on the second floor, peeping into each office. The building was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Standing on the first floor, I rubbed my neck. “Hmm, all empty. Five more properties to go.”
I gawked at the water streaming down the drive way forming a small lake along the curb outside my home. My neighbor’s sexy, hard-muscled, tall frame appeared from my backyard. The yellow button-down shirt was folded under his elbows over his thick forearms. I bet his thighs are like a body-builder under those khakis. He walked toward my truck as I rolled to a stop in the driveway.
“Good evening, neighbor.” He flashed his beautiful white teeth.
He rarely smiled. Why did he smile today?
He opened my door.
“Hello, Mr. Wilder. What do I owe the pleasure?” My high cheekbones heated.
He removed his aviator sunglasses, revealing his emerald green eyes. “Ms. Kerns, the water sprinkler was running all day again.” He sighed.
His clean-shaven face damn near called out to my fingertips. I’d love to stroke his angular, tanned jaw. This was the first time we’ve been face-to-face in such close proximities. Normally he’d ask I turn off the sprinkler system from his driveway.
Since my father bought the house, it was only fair I paid for the sprinkler timer. But I wasn’t sure how to install it.
Mr. Wilder’s huge frame towered over my five-seven frame. His woodsy aftershave dangled under my nose. I wondered how tall he was.
“Ms. Kerns, did you hear anything I said?”
