12 Days of Mistletoe

2. Elliot

TWO

elliot

I’ve tried to be polite. Notes are less intimidating than a six-foot-four man standing in your doorway, right? I’ve tried to go the easy, non-threatening route. But the girl won’t listen.

I’m not an idiot. I know there’s an animal up there. And it’s not Animal Planet playing on her television. The problem is, I’ve never actually seen the thing—or the woman in question.

Gran said if I wanted to buy the building, I’d have to live here for six months. Live in the space, run the day-to-day, and become a part of the Cherry Plum community. She wants me to understand the tenants, what they need, and enforce all the rules. I can do that. I have been doing that. I’ve been excited to do it. I used to help Gramps fix the place up and go with Gran to collect the rent all the time when I was a kid. I love this building. It’s nostalgic and special to me in a way I can’t really explain. Gramps always said it’s more than a job, it’s giving others a place to call home. I felt it in my bones when the man talked like that. I know I can do this job right—all I need is a little tenant cooperation. And the thing is, there aren’t many rules at Cherry Plum. Nothing crazy. Rent is due by the fifth of every month, prolonged guest parking must be reported, no smoking, and no animals .

I’ve got everything under control—even C2 sent an email reporting that her boyfriend would be using the building’s parking every Tuesday and Thursday when he stays overnight. Yep, things are running smooth and efficient, except for B4.

I’d planned to give her one more warning and then send her an eviction notice for violating Cherry Plum regulations. However, Gran says we don’t kick out perfectly good-paying tenants. We communicate with them.

Well, I’ve tried communicating. It’s not working.

It’s the first day of Christmas break from my day job as an elementary P.E. teacher, and instead of listening to Christmas music or spending the day at the rink, I’m attempting to form a plan to get a lying, stubborn woman to follow the rules—rules she’s made clear that she is very aware of.

I’m certain I could rent her space without any trouble. But Gramps and Gran ran the apartments at a different time. A time when it was hard to collect rent, hard to get people in, and money was tight.

It isn’t tight anymore. Gran owns three more buildings—all of which I plan to buy from her one day. But Cherry Plum is our experiment, our trial run—at least, that’s what she keeps telling me. At this point, if I were to move forward without Gran’s blessing and attempt to evict B4, she’d be upset, and then she might never trust me to buy the building .

A ping from my phone distracts me from my apartment woes—I need a distraction before I pull all of my hair out. Only it’s Q, and he’s not here to distract me from the annoying woman in B4. He’s here to talk about it.

Quinten: How’s it going with your difficult tenant?

Me: Same.

Q works with me at the school. We teach together. He’s a good buddy. So by default, he gets the brunt of my frustration. And honestly, I think he’s enjoying the drama in my life right now.

Quinten: Taking action today?

Me: My family will be here for a Christmas card photoshoot in an hour. I can’t today.

Quinten: Bull. You’re avoiding. This is part of the job. Confront her already. Face to face.

I know this is part of the job. I’m not afraid of that. If I could do it my way, I’d be fine. The girl has had plenty of warnings. It’s time to go. Again, this is where Gran and I see things differently.

It’s frustrating for sure, but I’m not going against Gran right now.

I don’t say as much because Q likes to tease me about my grandmother. And really, I don’t mind. I adore Gran. She might be my favorite person on the planet. I’m not ashamed of that.

But Q would use that against me.

Quinten: You could always send an official notice. Isn’t your brother-in-law a lawyer?

But Gran wouldn’t like that either.

Sure, I’ve got the tenant’s name—I’ve got everyone’s paperwork from when they moved in. I know that Bonnie F. Miller has lived in the building for three years—I’m guessing her apartment reflects that a dog has lived here for three years too.

And all at once, the thought has me angry. That means, for three years the woman has been taking advantage of the elderly. Just because my gran can’t be here every day to keep an eye on things the way she and Gramps once used to is no reason for someone to trespass on her kindness.

Quinten: It’s time to pay her a visit.

Me: You think?

I’ve wondered that, too, but I’m also trying to do things Gran’s way.

Quinten: Sure. She’s hot. And she’s definitely got a dog up there. Besides, it’s time.

Attractive women and time . We both know he’s referring to Jess. And that’s a subject I don’t talk about. But then?—

Wait—

Me: What do you mean, she’s hot?

Quinten: Has it been so long? You’ve forgotten the term?

Quinten: You know, like, nice to look at—but on high.

Me: And how would you know that? You haven’t been to my new place.

I don’t even know what Bonnie Miller looks like. Somehow our paths have never crossed. I’ve seen everyone else in the building. She must use the rear exit. I only know what her paperwork says. It tells me she turned twenty-six this year. And that she’s paid her rent by the second of every month. Not one month late. I can see why Gran isn’t eager to dismiss her.

But I don’t see how Quinten has any idea what the girl looks like.

Quinten: Instagram.

Me: Come again?

Quinten: You said her name one day. One of your rants in between classes. Bonnie Miller, right? I just added a few facts to her name in the search bar and I found your girl.

Me: Q. You didn’t. I’m no stalker. You’re looking her up?

Quinten: This girl is getting under your skin. I needed a visual.

He’s lost it.

Quinten: And it was a nice visual, man. You need an introduction. That—and FYI, in every photo she shows up in, she’s with a dog. Multiple dogs in some cases. She may have more than one up there.

“Did he say more than one?” My head goes hot—and not with the visual Q is attempting to give me.

Me: Maybe you’re right. Time for a face-to-face.

Time for Miss Miller to stop taking advantage of kind little old ladies.