Emily was able to unpack the groceries and find a place for everything. She purposely put things in different locations than she'd had in the condo. She wanted everything to be different. So, the coffee cups, no matter how inconvenient it was, would go in the bottom cabinet across the room from the counter where she set up the coffeepot. And the set of five new pots and pans she bought would go in the upper cabinet next to the fridge.
It was awful. She was pleased.
She'd hung her clothes up in the bedroom closet—at least the ones she had just stuffed into the trash bags, hangers and all. She'd not bought hangers at Walmart, unfortunately, so some things she just folded and put on the floor, next to the wall. She would have to put hangers on the list of things to buy next time she was out. And maybe a table and chair so she didn't have to eat standing up or look for a job on the laptop on the floor.
She smirked to herself. "Don't get crazy now, Em. You think you're made of money or something?"
That was her dad's expression—do you think I'm made of money—and it made her a little sad that she would miss seeing her parents this Christmas. But she needed the money. So, she'd refunded the tickets—well, 80% of them, which was the best the airline would give her—as soon as she'd gotten home. That money in her bank account would buy her some more time in case she didn't get a job quickly.
She could always ask her parents for help, she knew. They would definitely not let her starve or be homeless. But then she'd have to explain what happened with her and Jake. And, although they would never say I told you so, Emily knew that's what they would think.
They had not been impressed with Jake from the start. Mom had said she didn't think he was serious about the relationship and Dad had just flat out not liked him. Turns out, their instincts were better attuned than hers. She would, of course, have to tell them at some point. She just wasn't ready to do that right now.
She glanced around at the mostly empty house. Being with Jake was a mistake. Was moving here another mistake? She could have stayed in the Chicago area. She could've moved to Englewood with Mom and Dad. She could have gone anywhere, really. Why did she come back to Johnson?
There were no big businesses here. There were no large retail stores. There weren't even any large warehouses for her to manage. If she found a job, it would not be here in Johnson. It would be in one of the larger towns nearby, maybe.
Why had she committed to a year-long lease? Why had she—
Were those footsteps?
She froze in place, listening carefully. She'd definitely heard footsteps from down the hall, in the living room, maybe. She looked around for anything she could use as a weapon, but there was nothing. She didn't even have one of her new knives since they were all in the drawer next to the refrigerator.
She balled her fists, thumb on the outside like Dad had showed her, and stepped to the bedroom door. "Hello?"
The footsteps stopped. Yes. Those were definitely footsteps. And there was definitely someone in the house. Her heart pounded against her ribs. She'd left her phone on the kitchen counter. What should she do? Open the window and leave? Her shoes were in the hall closet in the living room, with her coat.
She took a step into the hallway, cleared her throat. "Hello? Is someone there?"
She stilled her breath, tried to listen with every cell of her body. At the same time, her brain was trying to convince her she hadn't actually heard anything. Her brain, maybe out of self-preservation, was winning that battle and she would have relaxed—except she heard it again.
Definitely footsteps from the living room.
"I've called the police. They're already on their way." She took a few steps down the hall, craning her neck to get a glimpse of the living room and any intruder who was there, walking around. "And I have nothing worth stealing, anyway."
The steps continued, right up until the time she stepped into the living room herself—the empty living room. No one was there. No one was walking. Nothing was out of place. Had they gone into the kitchen? She took a few steps in that direction, enough that she could see most of the empty kitchen. She walked to the doorway, looked in.
Nothing. Nothing was there except the empty boxes and wrappers that were evidence of her shopping adventure today, shoved into one the garbage bags she'd emptied her clothes from. No one was here. So, who had been walking?
She stood in the kitchen for a moment, looking around. The back door was still closed and locked. She could see the whole back yard from the window over the sink. It was empty, too. She was in an empty house, but she had definitely heard a person's footsteps.
Or maybe she didn't. Maybe she was just stressed out, right? It had been a stressful week. She could have just imagined it. People imagine things all the time. She didn't really hear any footsteps because there were no footsteps to hear.
"Calm down, Em." She rolled her eyes at herself and picked up the trash bag to take to the garbage can outside. "Don't be ridiculous."
She walked the bag to the front door, and swung it wide open, in defiance of all her stupid, fearful imaginings. Seeing a person standing there made an involuntary squeak explode from her throat and she jumped a mile.
To be fair, Leo jumped a mile too. But he recovered quicker.
"Oh, hey," he laughed at his own startle. "Are you going somewhere?"
"No, I'm—" She held the trash bag up a little as she opened the outer door. She cocked her head toward the trashcan at the side of the house.
"Okay. Good." He grabbed the doorknob and twisted, making sure it was unlocked.
She rolled her eyes. "I know how a door works, Leo."
"I know." He laughed and gave her a wink. "But do you?"
She sighed and started to step around him with the trash bag.
"Here." He took it from her and walked toward the side of the house, despite her protest that he didn't have to.
She watched him walk quickly, puffs of breath creating little clouds from his mouth as he walked. He was handling her trash like it was serious business, making sure it got to its proper receptacle, with the proper handling and the proper haste. Still, he smiled when he turned and caught her eyes on him.
"Why are you here, Leo?" She said from the doorway, and somehow it didn't sound harsh at all this time, despite her crossed arms and her attempt at a stern voice.
"Oh. Uh." He shrugged and pointed at his truck in her driveway. A plastic wrapped mattress was in the back. "Just dropping off."
She dropped her arms. "Is that my mattress?"
"Yeah," he said. "I just thought there was no sense in you having to sleep on the floor another night, right?"
"That's my mattress?" She shook her head. "They just let you take my mattress?"
"Yeah, well." He gave her a look that said it was not that big of a deal. "I told you the owner is a friend of mine. And the address is for a house I own, so..."
She frowned. "I'll be honest, Leo. I have mixed feelings about this."
"What mixed feelings?" He shrugged. "It's a small town. Everybody knows everybody. It's not a big deal."
She frowned.
"Fine." He turned toward the truck. "I'll take it back and you can just wait for them to deliver it tomorrow."
"Wait." Sleeping on the floor again was not high on her list of enjoyable things to do. "I mean, you've already got it here, so..."
"It's not that weird." He opened the tailgate and grabbed then end of the mattress. "Are you just not used to people helping you out?"
No, actually. She was not used to that at all. She rolled her eyes.
He pulled the end of the mattress out over the tailgate, then turned to her again. "Well?"
"What?" She shrugged. Then she realized what he wanted. She opened the door wide enough he could get through and then stepped to the side.
He frowned comically. "Really? You think I can carry a queen size mattress by myself?"
She flushed, then laughed. "Can you not?"
He slumped against the mattress and shook his head. "Little help, please?"
She ducked into the house and grabbed her shoes from the closet. She slid her feet into them and hurried back outside, to find Leo pretending to be asleep against the side of the mattress. "Let's go."
"Wha—huh?" He lifted his head and shook it. "I'm sorry. You were gone so long."
She smiled, despite herself. "Very funny."
Then he was all seriousness. "You want front or back?"
She paused, confused. "What?"
He sighed, exasperated with her, or possibly just pretending to be exasperated with her. "I'll pull from this end. You take the back as I slide it out."
She moved to the tailgate and waited as he carefully walked the mattress out of the truck bed. When he got close to the end he told her, "Okay, here it comes. Watch it."
Somehow, she was able to keep it from hitting the ground as it came out of the truck. That surprised them both. It was heavy though. She'd had no idea how heavy a mattress actually was until this very moment.
"How'd you get this in the truck in the first place?" She grunted as she waddled along with her bed in her hands.
"Kev, the guy who was supposed to deliver it, helped me." He struggled with his end, as well. "Watch your step here."
"Why didn't Kev come along and help you move this?" she grumbled. "Since he's such a good friend."
He laughed and put his end down on the carpet once they were both inside. He motioned to her to shut the door. "He's just a little mad that I made him refund the delivery fee."
"You made him refund the delivery fee?" She put her end down a little harder than she'd planned and pushed the door shut behind them. "Why did you do that? Why did he do that?"
"He did it because he's my oldest friend and he's married to my sister, and I asked him to do it." He looked down at his shoes, pretending to catch his breath from moving the mattress. "And I did it because..."
"Were you just here?" she blurted. "Like, in the house?"
He looked up, a confused expression on his face. "What? You mean before this very minute?"
"Yeah. Like before." She crossed her arms over her chest. "Were you here, in the house? And then maybe you went back outside?"
"I just got here when you opened the door." His eyebrows came down. "What are you saying?"
"Before you got here—before I opened the door and you were on the porch, you weren't inside the house?" She hoped that saying it so fast would lessen the accusatory tone. "Like maybe you didn't know I was home?"
"No. I was not. I got here just before you opened the door." He seemed offended, then his eyes narrowed in concern. "Wait, are you saying someone was in the house?"
"Yes!" She checked her tone so she didn't sound hysterical. "Yeah, I think so. I heard footsteps."
Leo eased the mattress to lean against the wall. "What kind of footsteps?"
"I don't know. Human footsteps." Now that he was taking her seriously, she was starting to feel the fear again. "Like they were walking around in this room."
He glanced around the room. It was completely empty except for the mattress and the two of them. "You sure?"
"Yes!" She stepped closer to him. Which was stupid, really, because it was obvious they were the only two people in the room, so there was nothing for him to protect her from. Still, the closeness made her feel better. "I definitely heard footsteps walking across the carpet. And when I said, 'who's there?' they stopped."
He looked around, studying the room. "These are the same kind of footsteps you heard that first night?"
"Yes!" She took another step toward him. "Exactly. I think somehow, someone is in the house."
He sighed, but it was more of a thought-processing expression than one of annoyance or exasperation. His eyes moved around the room. "I don't see where anyone could get in and out without you noticing."
"No." She met his gaze. "I don't either, but someone was definitely here."
"Okay." He nodded. He was formulating a plan. "Let me look."
He checked the kitchen and the back door thoroughly. He looked in all the cabinets, all the closets. He checked the windows, the bathroom, the bedrooms. Nothing.
"What were you doing when you heard it?" His expression was serious. He believed her this time. "Show me."
"I was..." She moved to the closet and pretended to hang clothes up. "I was putting stuff away right here and I—"
There were the footsteps again.
Her eyes went wide. She whispered, "Did you hear that?"
He nodded and motioned that she should stay behind him as he walked quietly toward the living room. The footsteps did not stop. Even when they reached the living room, they could hear them, as if there were invisible people walking among them. The steps stopped at the same time Emily and Leo stopped in the center of the living room.
"I'm not imagining this," she said softly. "You hear that, too, right?"
He nodded, listening.
The footsteps started again, and he looked up at the ceiling. A slow smile broke over his face. "Yeah, I hear it."
She looked up but didn't see what he was talking about. There was nothing in the attic, he'd said before. Why was he looking up?
"Geese," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "There are geese on the roof. Used to scare me too, when I was a kid and I would stay over here."
"Geese." She tried to fit that into the terrifying invisible ax murderer narrative her brain had already constructed. "What do you mean when you would stay here?"
"It's my grandparents' house," he said. "They left it to me."
"Oh." She didn't know what to say to that. "I'm sorry."
He shrugged, clearly feeling awkward about the direction of the conversation. "Thanks. It's been a while, though."
They both stood, looking at the ceiling, while the footsteps continued. Geese on the roof was a logical explanation, far more logical than someone in the house. And, since those people would have to be invisible to be walking around them now, geese were the only acceptable explanation.
Even though the footsteps sounded like they were inside the room and not up on the roof.
"So, you settling in okay?" He was the first to speak.
She shrugged and waved a hand at the empty room with a self-deprecating laugh. "It's all unpacked."
He put his hands on his hips and looked around, nodding. "It's hard to start over."
"Yeah," she sighed. "I need a job."
"You don't have a job?" He raised both eyebrows.
"I can pay the rent, don't worry," she said quickly. She didn't want him to think she was just going to stiff him on the rent. "I have savings. I just—"
"Need a job, right," he finished. "What do you do?"
"I have a business degree." She crossed her arms over her chest, offended without knowing why. He had no way of knowing that, so why did she get mad that he asked?
"Marketing? Supply chain management? Finance?" he prompted. "What's your degree in?"
"Bachelor's in business." She frowned. This question had come up before. She had not specialized in any field, just general business.
"Oh." He thought for a moment, then shrugged. "If I hear of anything, I'll let you know."
"Thanks." Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her arms out of their defensive pose. "Look, at this point, I can afford to take a job temporarily until I find a position that suits my experience."
"Okay, so anything?" His smile softened the harsh reality of that suggestion. "Did you try some of the places downtown when you were there? There's a lot going on in the Christmas Village and the stores are probably seeing more business than they have all year."
"Retail at Christmas." She frowned. "Yeah, no thanks."
He shrugged. "What is it they say about beggars and choosers?"
"It's just that everyone is so fake happy." She shook her head.
He laughed. "Maybe they're just happy? Christmas is a joyous holiday."
"No. Christmas is the opposite of joyous." She frowned. "It's stressful and rushed and Is this present good enough? Have I spent enough money? and I have to go to this event because everyone will be mad at me if I don't and I know this is the last day of the sale and you only had a limited supply, but how dare you not have what I came here to buy and—"
"And Put together a Christmas Pageant that's totally different than last year's so you can't reuse any props or costumes and then deal with the parents who want things done their way but don't want to help." He laughed. "And we're only going to give you a couple of weeks of extracurricular time to rehearse, so you'll have to totally gut your lesson plans in order to use class time to rehearse."
"Right?" She laughed. "And make sure you have enough decorations that people can see you're happy, you're festive, you're participating—but not so many decorations that they talk about how your displays are bringing down the property values of their own houses."
"And make up excuse after excuse about why you can't attend this dinner or that party, because you just can't take another round of The Pity Patrol trying to set you up with this friend's niece or the daughter of a friend of a friend." He laughed and affected a voice. "She's perfect for you. Go talk to her."
"Oh my God! Mind your own business, people!" She laughed.
"Oh, no. It's a small town." He rolled his eyes. "There is no minding your own business if you feel like it's all your business. I'm over it."
"I'm so over it," she repeated. "I'm over the fakeness and the lying."
"And smiling so no one knows how over this you are." He nodded.
"And—" And smiling so no one knows how over this you are. That was it, exactly. She nodded.
"Well." He cleared his throat and walked over to the mattress, still on the floor. "Let's finish moving this before it gets dark."