Page 11 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

"Huh."

Gerald looked up.

"What?"

"The Henderson place. It has lights."

"So?"

"It hasn't had lights in months."

Frank peered through the windshield.

"Looks like someone finally bought it."

I tilted my head, studying the windows. A shadow moved behind the curtains.

"Well...Welcome to the neighbourhood, mysterious stranger."

Gerald snorted.

"Please don't bake them cookies."

"I wasn't going to."

"You absolutely were."

"I was considering muffins."

"That's somehow worse."

"I like welcoming people."

"You like collecting people...There's a difference"

"Is there?"

I smiled innocently.

"Probably."

With one last glance at the softly lit cottage, I climbed out of the car, stretching until my back protested.

"Ow."

Gerald nodded toward the trunk where I struggled to also unload the suitcase when I delivered it to a new home.

"I blame the sparkles."

"I blame poor engineering."

Together, we (I picked my gnomes up) headed for the front door.

“I’m getting too old for heels.”

“You’re twenty-five," Gerald said.

“My spine disagrees.”