Last night had been a real shit-show. But there was plenty of blame to go around. And hell if I'd be taking all of it.
Waverly said, "So you received my messages?"
I gave her a look. "Yeah, all twelve of them."
Her chin lifted. "It wasn't twelve. It was ten at the most."
Ten, twelve – it didn't matter. When I said nothing in reply, she asked, "So why didn't you text me back?"
"Because I was busy."
Her mouth tightened, but she didn't push the issue. Instead, she pointed toward the front yard and said, "But you see the problem, right?"
Oh yeah. I saw.
Turns out the "landscaping emergency" was right here in Bayside. It was easy to see what had happened. Arden had ruined the establishing footage, the part where we showed just how bad the house looked before we got to work.
Silently, I took in the scene. The house still looked bad, but notasbad as when I'd bought it.
In fact, the place looked a lot better than just this morning.
The hedges looked nice and neat, and a bunch of weeds were missing from the area around the front porch. The yard still had a long way to go, but Arden had made a decent start of it, especially for someone working alone – and for less than a day.
If Arden were anyone else, I might've been impressed.
Next to me, Waverly was saying, "See? It's a total fucking disaster."
I shrugged. "Hey, it could be worse."
"How?" she demanded. "It's a catastrophe, and you know it."
No.A catastrophe was when your dad went out for beer and never came back. Or, when your mom decided she'd rather take up with some washed-up fighter and move to Miami, instead of raising her own kids.
Nowthatwas a catastrophe – as I'd seen firsthand, even more so when they'd died in separate accidents not too long afterward.
I told Waverly, "Trust me. It's not that bad."
"Not that bad?" she sputtered. "You're kidding, right?"
I'd known Waverly for only a few weeks now. But it was long enough to know that she wasn't cut out for this sort of gig. In construction – hell, in everything – things went wrong all the time. The secret was to roll with the punches and get back up – not to whine like a…well, you know.
I told her, "Don't worry. We'll figure something out."
"Like what?" she said. "Ialreadytold the mower person that she should put it back."
At this, I almost smiled. "Oh yeah? How'dthatgo?"
"Terrible," Waverly said. "She got all snippy."
Recalling her words from a moment earlier, I frowned in confusion. "Wait a minute. Put what back?"
"The grass," Waverly said. "I'm thinking if we scatter it around, we can still get some decent footage."
From the sidelines, Arden called out, "And don't forget about the goat!"
Waverly whirled toward her and hollered back, "Hey! I wasn't talking toyou!"
"Good!" Arden yelled. "BecauseI'vegot a lawn to mow."
