Chapter Two

Coffee…the beverage of the gods.

Especially after a night like the one I just spent trying to figure out why the wired smoke alarm in one of my units kept sounding in obvious lack of any sort of trigger. And that had been after helping the new tenant move in. It wasn't something I normally did, but he looked like he could use the help. And no, it had nothing to do with the way he filled in his jeans. Nope. Nothing at all.

I thought the tenants in the surrounding units were going to have me tarred and feathered, and I couldn't really blame them. Although I had gained a number of skills as the building super since inheriting this business from Gramps, I guess smoke alarm rebellion was not one of them.

Most electrical problems, really. I had managed to stop the wail by dismantling the device itself, and the sucker fought me, but I was concerned that there was an electrical problem behind it. A fact confirmed when the new smoke alarm instantly screeched in protest. Much as I hated leaving any unit down one detector, there was nothing for it but to wait until morning and call the professionals.

Picking up my phone in my free hand, I checked the time. Still a half hour before the professionals would be in their office. Enough time for two cups of coffee. And to plan my day. All my friends told me how lucky I was that Gramps entrusted me with the building that meant so much to him. And absolutely I was, but that somehow did not make it any less work. In fact, after a few months, I gave up my day job because I was spending everything I earned there and more, paying other people to do jobs around the place. Tasks I thought I would be able to do myself.

And what a learning process I dived into at that point. I'd become quite the painter and floor layer and could pound in a loose nail and do so many other things, but it had taken time. Each month, I hired out a little less than the one before. Unfortunately, as I answered calls from various tenants and visited their units, I learned that most of them were in severe need of updating. Not necessarily while existing tenants lived there. No, they seemed comfortable and preferred I not inconvenience them with major renovations. But as apartments opened, I would remodel each before renting it to the next customer.

When I got the call the night before to come and help out, I was so deeply asleep after a day of installing new wood flooring that I hadn't even heard the shrieking alarm. Only the vibrating phone hopping around on my nightstand inches from my face had dragged me from slumber. Not that I minded because my dreams had consisted of more deep-brown boards, many of which were floating above my head instead of snapping into place in the living room of the empty unit.

I reached for my tablet and brought up the spreadsheet for the rehab of that unit to see what I had left to do. The couple who moved out a few months before had not been hard on it, but they had lived there for almost thirty years and according to Gramps had almost never asked for any kind of updates, in fact preferred not to be bothered by workmen of any kind.

I made a mental note to be sure and include in future leases a requirement to allow such maintenance at the landlord's discretion to avoid the amount of work I was having to put into each one that opened before I could rent them again. It seemed most of Gramps' tenants were incredibly long-term, and he'd managed to keep their rents low partly by doing only necessary repairs. These folks were one by one retiring either to somewhere warmer or to live with their adult children or to senior communities. I was grateful they were not all doing it at the same time. So far, I'd been able to get each place done before the next landed in my lap.

I had checked off most of my to-do list for this one, and was very proud of how it was turning out. A couple who had moved into a remodeled one-bedroom a few months before were very excited to have a nursery ready in time for their unplanned-but-super-welcomed baby. They could have it in a couple of weeks, and I already had a tenant lined up for their old place. They'd kept it very clean and I wouldn't even have to paint.

Unlike their new home that still needed the floor finished, new faucets installed, and a few other things. Their baby would have a modern and neat home. They'd even picked out the paint for the nursery. When I made the offer, I held my breath, hoping they wouldn't want anything too wild like baby pink or blue, but they'd selected a soft green that I thought nearly anyone would enjoy.

My phone chimed, and I looked down to see a text from my ex. Just making sure you're eating and taking care of yourself. Typical Meri.

I've been living on beans and crackers.

Yeah, right. I'm having Rob drop off a care package for you when he goes into town in a few days.

Meri and I had been a couple, but after a while, it became clear to both of us that not only were we much better friends than we had ever been lovers, but we didn't share goals or aspirations. Meri had always harbored a desire to be a country girl and live on a homestead where she could create a self-sufficient lifestyle. She liked to bake bread and grow tomatoes on the balcony of our old apartment. She even got hold of some wool to spin into yarn one time. Me? I bought bread at the store, wanted my yarn pre-spun into clothing and blankets, and the closest I wanted to get to growing fruits and vegetables was buying them from the farmer's market.

She'd met Rob on some homesteader's dating app, shortly after we decided to give up on being a couple. Together, they'd bought some acreage and built their home and everything else to follow their shared dream. I missed her, sometimes, because she was so busy, but I never actually did have to go to the farmer's market because Meri and Rob supplied me with so much out of concern for my welfare.

When we were together, she'd always been annoyed by my efforts to take care of her. Seemed we were both natural caregivers. Rob loved that she laid out his clothes for special occasions and watched his diet to make sure he didn't eat more butter than bread.

First time they brought me a basket of beautiful lettuce, a bug hopped out of it, and they nearly fell over laughing at my shock. They truly were two peas in a homesteading pod. And they were both my friends now, which was great but also reminded me that I had not found my pod-mate yet.

Still there? she texted.

Yeah, sorry. Just figuring out what I need to do on a unit.

Funny, I had no idea you had all those skills when we were together.

No. Neither did I.

We chatted back and forth a bit more, and then I had to message the electrician and said goodbye to Meri. She was probably off to feed the chickens or something. She really loved those chickens.

I poured my second cup of coffee. She'd always been a tea girl. I should have known we were incompatible.