This time I walk carefully to Scott and hug him. “I’ll miss you.”
“Me too, Miss Clementine. You take care of yourself.”
5
KEITH
What the hell have I done?
I look between the girl waving at Scott and my porch, which looks like a chic bag store filled with luggage in colors I’d never even look at.
Who the hell buys a yellow bag? Or pink for that matter, on top of which sits a cat lamp. It has fucking cats on it! Five, if I have counted right. Even Mere doesn’t own something this cheesy.
My daughter cocks her head toward Clementine, who is still staring at the main gate. Looks like near-royalty Miss Hawthorne is already second-guessing her move from the Hawthorne Mansion.
“Dad,” Mere whispers beside me. “Say something to her.”
I actually did have a whole speech prepared for the new tenant, telling her how Mere hasn’t fully recovered from the loss of her mother; why I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of a short-term tenant because my daughter has attachment issues. Hoping she’d understand how I was cornered last week because of the favor her brother owes to me and Merida’s excitement.
But all that doesn’t seem right for this girl.
Fuck! It’s all my fault. I skipped my usual process of vetting a new person entering our lives. I thought I already had enough background since she is Oscar’s sister and a family friend of the Teagers. I’d imagined a twenty-five-year-old woman who acts and looks her age.
But this girl, if wearing Mere’s boy shorts and T-shirt, would pass as a late teen. Right now, she is dressed in a gray, buttoned coat, red gloves, mustard skirt, red stockings, and matching heels.
God, who wears stockings and heels in rain?
I was expecting a sensible tenant who can provide some emotional support to my daughter. But the way she continues to stare at the main gate, I’ve lost all hope.
“Let’s go in,” I gruff. When Clementine looks at her luggage hesitantly, I say, “I’ll put your luggage in the mudroom. It can stay there overnight for drying. You take whatever you need for the night and the rest I’ll bring up tomorrow, okay?”
She nods and sweeps the wet bangs out of her brown eyes. I’m once again stunned by her looks. She looks nothing like Oscar. With golden hair and blue eyes, Oscar looks like a Nordic god or like true royalty, with a family in Cherrywood. But this short brunette with an everyday face and brown eyes looks like she’s from this neighborhood. Maybe that’s not bad after all, she’ll at least blend in well.
I start the process of loading her stuff in our small mudroom while Mere removes the destroyed confectionary.
“I don’t know what Oscar told you, but we all share a common entrance.” I point to the main door.
Leading them into our living space, I look around and realize that it’s not only her, but we too are compromising our privacy. My house has an open concept, as Melanie was into us being together as much as we could be. She’d continuously talk to me while cooking as I’d read on the couch.
I wave around the kitchen and living space. “You can take the stairs for the loft, but the living area is not a part of the rented space.” I run my hands through my hair, second-guessing my decision of a tenant, especially one who acts and looks like Clementine.
“But feel free to knock on my door whenever you want to hang out,” Mere chimes in a singsong voice, pointing toward her bedroom door.
There’s a DO NOT DISTURB sign in shining blue ink, which she affixed a few months back. Apparently, I was disturbing her too much.
For me she puts out that ostentatious board but it looks like Miss Hawthorne received a first-class invitation. I don’t know how I feel about it.
“Thanks!” Clementine chirps and then squeals, “I lovvve the board, by the way.”
God, what have I done?
She is not what I wanted in my house. Another teenager.
I take the stairs to the loft and they both follow me.
“This is your place. The kitchen isn’t new, but it was barely used before.” I tilt my head toward the open kitchen and show her around the bath and balcony. “I understand that things might not be exactly as you are used to in Hawthorne Mansion, but…this is a rental. I hope you were prepared for the adjustments before you embarked on this journey of living independently.”
I can’t help but direct my irritation at her. Even though I know it’s not her fault that she’s not what I needed in my house. It’s all on me.