The Neighbors

Chapter 3

I knocked on Harold's door at 9:00 AM sharp. He swung the door open and I was greeted by the scent of expensive cologne and the sight of him dressed in camel brown slacks, a blue checkered shirt, and brown casual loafers. I was stunned by his exquisite appearance. I had to force myself to speak.

“Good morning, neighbor,” I said cheerfully.

“Good morning Elisebeth." I chuckled at the way he meticulously pronounced each syllable of my name.

“You can just call me Lise,” I told him. “Do you want to get some coffee before we get started? My favorite shop is just around the corner, and it has a drive-through.”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed. We climbed into his shiny red Lexus and were greeted by pop music. I smirked when he started singing along to “Sing” by Ed Sheeran, but I came right out and laughed when he started singing the falsetto, “Oh-Oh-Oh-Ooh-Oh.”

“What? You don't think an old man like me can sing? Or you just think I'm too old to like Ed Sheeran? He is a Brit, you know.”

“No, it just surprised me, that's all. I like Ed Sheeran, too. Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“39.”

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?” He asked.

“Of course,” I said, laughing. “I was just surprised to hear you have a child who's starting college. You look so much younger.”

“So, 39 is old?” He asked, teasing.

“No, that's not what I meant at all. Maybe I should shut up now.”

“Na, it's all right. No offense taken.”

We pulled into the drive-through at Coffee Cabana and I told him I wanted a small mocha latte. He ordered a plain coffee with cream and sugar.

“You don't like the sexy coffees, huh?” I asked.

“Sexy?”

“You know, overly sweetened and available in any flavor? That's what I call them anyway.”

“Ahh, I see. I like the occasional latte or cappuccino, but I usually drink boring old coffee...with a little cream and sugar, of course.” He winked again as he said it.

We began our shopping expedition at Ethan Allen. I was surprised at how quickly he picked out the furniture he wanted for his house. He was efficient, I'll give him that. He picked out a living room set, dining room furniture, a bedroom set and a few pieces of décor, and we'd only been in the store for an hour or so.

When he was getting ready to check out, I reminded him, “You have a lovely patio with that gorgeous fire pit. Perhaps you'd like some patio furniture?” I had to admit that shopping with him was rewarding. I helped him choose colors and patterns that I liked, and I didn't have to foot the bill.

“Good point,” he said. We asked a sales associate to direct us to outdoor furniture, and in no time we had picked out a lovely portico chaise set in an attractive flowery, but not too feminine fabric. He choose a gigantic sun umbrella, and we were all set.

I tried not to gawk at the final price tag when Harold's purchases were totaled, but I knew it was well over $25,000. This man had money to spend! I'm glad that I hadn't suggested we hit the thrift stores.

“Where shall we go next?” He asked as we entered his car.

“You're not done yet?” I chuckled.

“Oh, no, Lise, I still have to stock my kitchen and bathrooms. Or are you not feeling up to that? You don't have to come along. If you'd like, I can just take you home and go out on my own,” he suggested.