Free Cookie Cutter by Jo Richardson Page A

time, like the first day I met them. I push the trash can out to the curb and grin as I continue to watch Iris. She’s wearing what looks to be a power suit, but that’s not what stands out. Her hair is up, exposing her neck. It looks nice on her and I wonder if she’s got something important going on today. The click of her heels echo through the air as she hurries to the car. The street is pretty much a ghost town this time of day except for her. And me, apparently.
    I wait patiently for the opportunity to catch her spying on me but there’s something off about her this morning. She doesn’t attempt to look as though she’s not looking this way.  In fact, she’s making a determined effort to not look this way at all as she gets into the car and waits for her daughter. What is her name? Abby? Angie? Ally. Right.
    Regardless, I feel ripped off.  This is my early morning merriment. My entire day is going to be thrown off now. I blame Iris. It’s not her fault, I know that. It’s just that I look forward to our daily meet and greets.  As maladjusted as they are, they somehow make this flip project a little more interesting. That I don’t get the opportunity today, leaves me agitated. The front door slams and Ally stands there, glaring at me.
    Busted.
    With a wave of my hand, I try to act nonchalant about her catching me gawking at her mother, but she’s no dummy. She shakes her head in disgust and walks to the car. I turn and head back toward the garage, trying to erase that awkward moment out of my mind as Iris pulls out and leaves. Then I’m stopped in my tracks.
    “Carter! Carter!”
    I look around and see Iris’s friend, Meg, signaling to me from her front door step, which confirms once and for all, she’s the chick with the mid-day mystery visitor every so often. I suspected it was her the other day, when we met, but I wasn’t positive since I hadn’t gotten a good look at her but now . . . Oh yeah, it’s her. I throw a hand up at her and give a half nod. She tiptoe-jogs my way in her pink fluffy robe and matching slippers. I’m not ready for a gossipy conversation about neighborhood politics.
    “Listen,” she says in a low voice, once she’s in ear shot. “I know Iris can be a pill but she means well.”
    Okay maybe I am ready. “Huh?”
    “Oh, I’m sure she’s told you by now, she’s contacted other handymen and wants bid proposals.”
    She . . . “She what?”
    Meg’s brow lifts and she swats at my arm, playfully. If this was Iris I was talking to, she’d have punched my arm with no mercy.
    “I know, I know,” she gives me a sympathetic roll of her eyes. “But trust me when I say, it’s simply a formality. You just make sure you show up at the neighborhood events committee meeting later, and –“
    “Meeting?”
    “Like I said, Carter, just a formality.” Her voice raises an octave or two. I don’t know if she’s trying to convince me or herself at this point. “I guarantee you, the job is yours, Iris likes all her ducks in a row, that’s all.”
    This explains a lot. Specifically, why Iris couldn’t bring herself to look my way just now. She never planned on telling me she wanted a bid. That underhanded, sneaky, little control freak.
    Honestly, it’s not like I have time for extra work on top of everything else I have on my plate right now.  Hell, I might have even told her, had she given me the time of day, that she didn’t need to worry about me taking the damn job, but now? You best believe I’m making time.
    “I’ll be there,” I say. I fake a smile as Meg claps and flutters away, toward her house.
    “See you there, Carter!”
    I’m already gone, into the garage, closing the door.
    Back inside my place, I’m ready to get a jump on renovations so I can get ahead of the game before this meeting later on. When I pick up a jigsaw for some detail work, I hear the familiar buzzing of my cell phone as it glides across the kitchen counter.
    I check. It’s a text,