The rest of whatever Liz intended to say was cut off by the chime on her phone that signaled an incoming text. As she read the message, her shoulders slumped. “Crap, Jeremy called in sick. I’m gonna have to pass on dinner. Can you give me a ride to the bar?”
“Sure thing. If you want, we can grab takeout along the way.”
An hour later, Liz was busy at the bar, while Fiona was on her way home. She could have stayed to chat with Liz between customers, but she needed some quiet time to figure out what to say to Joe the next time their paths crossed.
One of her neighbors must be having a party, because all the parking spots anywhere close to her apartment were taken. After a bit of searching, she found a spot out by the leasing office, gathered her things, and closed the car door with a swing of her hip. She stopped by the boxes to pick up her mail—mostly junk, and what looked like a Christmas card from her Aunt Jenny—and crossed the cul-de-sac to her building.
Holiday music carried from one of the apartments, while a nip in the early evening air hinted at the possibility of cooler weather. Fiona tried—and failed—not to notice Joe’s Mustang parked in front of the building. But what caught and held her attention was the soft glow of lights peeking around the outer edges of the blinds inside her apartment.
Heart in her throat, she froze in her tracks, her neck craned up at the lights. She distinctly remembered turning them off before going to the movies with Liz. She checked the security app on her phone, momentarily relieved to find no alerts, but her pulse skipped when she noticed the system had been manually taken offline thirty minutes after she’d left the apartment.
If she called the police and they found no signs of a break-in, she’d feel like a total idiot. But if she walked into her apartment and came face-to-face with an intruder, she might end up hurt…or worse. Neither option sounded appealing.
Of course, there was a third option. Though given the state of their relationship, and the fact she’d flatly told him that she didn’t want his help anymore, she wasn’t sure how well her request would be received. But now wasn’t the time to worry about things like that. She was a big, fat chicken when it came to the possibility of a stranger breaking into her home. Besides, they really needed to talk, so why not kill two birds with one stone?
Decision made, she made a beeline for Joe’s apartment and knocked on his door. He answered within seconds, looking painfully gorgeous in low-slung jeans and a midnight blue T-shirt that molded to his chest and biceps. He gave a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and her pulse kicked up another notch.
“Hey Fi, what’s up?”
First things first. “I think somebody’s in my apartment. Could you check it for me, or would you rather I call the police?”
Concern creased his brow. “What makes you think someone’s in there?”
“The lights are on, and my alarm was disabled.”
Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, but she had no idea what it meant.
“Let me put on some shoes and I’ll come check it out with you.”
Neither said a word as they walked up the stairs, but she could practically feel the weight of all the things they needed to say. At the door, Joe held out his hand, and she gave him the keys.
He unlocked the door, but instead of going in, he stepped aside and gestured for her to take his place.
“Trust me,” he said before she could ask any questions.
Not sure what to expect, apprehension crept up her spine as she slowly pushed the door open. She took a tentative step inside, and her jaw dropped open.
It looked like Christmas had blown up inside her apartment, complete with lighted garland around the windows, stockings hanging from the breakfast bar, and a fully decorated tree. But what really blew her mind was that all the decorations were hers, right down to the stocking with Wanda’s name written on it and the big, floppy reindeer plush draped over the back of her recliner. Wanda sat on the seat of the recliner, her tail flicking with irritation over her favorite perch being occupied by a stuffed animal.
Warmth flooded Fiona’s heart, banishing the earlier tightness. She couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d been too stunned to speak. Pushing past the lump in her throat, she asked, “How did you convince Dennis to give it all back?”
The twinkling multicolored lights on the tree glinted off Joe’s dark hair. “There wasn’t any convincing. It was more like a liberation.”
She gaped at him. “You stole it?”
“Hey, I didn’t steal anything,” he said, his hands raised and palms turned out in a gesture of innocence. “I’m pretty sure it was elves. But it’s probably best if you don’t ask for details. You know, for the sake of plausible deniability.” He grinned like a kid who’d just gotten away with something, which was likely the case. “Let’s just say one of Santa’s elves owed me a favor.”
Wide-eyed, she stared at the tree, complete with the star she’d bought after moving out of her parents’ house and into her first apartment. Many of the ornaments had been gifts from friends, colleagues, and former students, each irreplaceable and holding a special place in her heart.
Still, there would be a price to pay. “When Dennis finds out—”
“He won’t. All of it was still in their storage containers. If he was going to decorate for the holidays, he would have done it by now.”
“That might be the case, but he’s bound to notice they’re missing.” Like the next time he parked his car in the garage. Two stacks of plastic containers and the box that stored the artificial tree took up a significant amount of space in there.
“No he won’t.” Joe’s grin widened to a smile. “The elves took everything out of those containers and left the containers exactly as they were in the garage.”
So Dennis wouldn’t discover the theft unless he actually looked inside them, or maybe if he picked one up and noticed it weighed a lot less than it should. He’d find out eventually, but that could be months—maybe years, if she was lucky—down the road. Whenever it happened, there’d be hell to pay, but she’d cross that bridge when she got to it.
