Fear Thy Neighbor (37)
Once back in her rented cottage, Ali paced, trying to decide if she should call Kimberly to see if she had the paperwork ready. The sooner she had possession of her property, the sooner she’d be able to relax. It was such a life-changing decision, one she felt good about, though she couldn’t help those creeping doubts that always ruled over any decision she made.
Wishing she had someone to talk to about her choice, during times like these, she longed for a mother, a sibling, a family member that knew her, and one she could trust. Many times she thought about trying to find her birth parents, knew there were many ways to do this, but something always held her back. She feared her mother’s lack of love, given that she’d been placed in foster care the day she was born. At least that’s what the Sterlings led her to believe. Maybe her mother was just a kid like she’d been, with no means to care for a child. If that were the case, then she probably did what she thought was best for her.
What about her father? Men should be just as responsible as women when a child was involved. Over the years, she’d had a couple of decent foster dads and a few bad eggs, too. One that beat the daylights out of her and another who did things to her that she didn’t want to think about.
And then there was him. She would not allow herself to even think of his name. What he tried to do. What he did. Often she was reminded that, had she not bolted when she did, the walls she saw now would only be in her dreams.
“Enough,” she said out loud. Letting her thoughts lead her down this road always caused her to feel shame, anger, and regret.
She took her luggage from the closet and found a nightshirt, deciding she’d spend the evening enjoying the comfort of the bed while she indulged in watching a movie. Tomorrow would be here soon enough. Tomorrow, she would officially become a homeowner.
Chapter Eight
Alison was showered and dressed before six. She loaded her things in the Jeep, left the key to the cottage in the room as instructed, then headed over to The Daily Grind, where she would hang out until her appointment with Kimberly.
As it was Monday morning, the place was booming with customers. All the tables were full, the line long, but she had nothing better to do, so she waited her turn. When she saw FishEyes had a large cup of black coffee ready for her as soon as it was her turn to order, she smiled. “Thanks for remembering.”
“A pretty girl that drinks black coffee is easy to remember.”
Was this old dude another pervert? If so, she’d find a new coffee shop. As she reached into her purse for some cash, FishEyes stopped her.
“On the house,” he said.
“Why?” Was he trying to hit on her?
“Sign says so.” He pointed to the whiteboard behind him, where it read: Thirty-first customer on Monday gets free coffee.
Relieved, she asked, “Why such an odd number?”
“We draw a number out of a hat on Mondays, though it never goes past fifty.”
“Then I guess today is my lucky day. Thanks,” she said. Spying an empty table, she hurried to sit down before someone else saw it. She would read the paper, killing time before she had to meet Kimberly.
The Matlacha Weekly was a respectable publication. Surprised the place even had a newspaper, Ali flipped through the pages. She read the tides for the upcoming week, saw John’s bait store had a sale on minnows. How the heck did one put a price on a minnow when anyone could get them for free if they took the time? It would take a while for her to get used to island life. All she wanted was a peaceful existence. In time, she would find a job. She’d let Henry work his magic on her finances, but she wasn’t lazy. Once she got the cottage in shipshape, she couldn’t see herself spending all of her free time doing nothing. She saw the want ads, and that Terri’s Diner was hiring. Was this the same diner that Valentina got the pie from? If so, maybe she’d apply for the job if it was still available when she was settled in. She wasn’t going to make any commitments until she was satisfied with the repairs she would need to make on the cottage.
Suddenly, the door flew open, a man pushing it so hard it slammed against the wall. Shocked when she saw Tank, the taxi driver, Ali quickly shoved the paper as close to her face as she could without looking like a character in a spy movie.
Was it her imagination, or had the buzz of conversations paused for a couple seconds when Tank entered? She continued to hold the paper as close to her face as possible without garnering attention. The last person she wanted to deal with was another idiotic male, pumped up with too much testosterone, though in Tank’s case, it was in name only. Alison doubted the man weighed more than a hundred pounds. Drugs, she guessed, as weight loss was an indicator. Bad teeth, sores; it all made her sick. In Tampa, she’d seen more than her share of addicts. Her heart went out to them. Though she didn’t truly understand addiction, she knew it had to be horrendous for it to dominate one’s life to the point that the addict’s only goal was finding more of whatever drug they were hooked on. She’d been offered a variety of drugs when she lived on the streets. At the time, food and shelter had been her main priorities. Having a will of iron, Ali had refused to go down that path of destruction.
“I ain’t got all day!” Tank the taxi driver yelled at FishEyes. “Hurry up.”
All eyes focused on Tank, some folks shaking their heads and some deciding it was time to leave. Ali stayed in her seat, waiting to see what he would do next.