many neighbors, so we kinda-sorta watch out for each other.” Well now, that was a limp-wristed hello. What do I have, girl cooties? No need for him to know I’m his landlady. That’s what the realtor is paid to do, take care of all the rental arrangements. Less aggravation for me .
“Good to know. I’m a city boy. Never lived this far from town before.”
She gave the once-over to his short, sandy hair, trendy, tortoise-shell eyeglass frames, light yellow button-down shirt, khaki Dockers, and brown loafers. It appeared that his socks matched his shirt. He had the whole Justin-Timberlake-as-the-guy-next-door appearance under total control.
“That could be a problem, if you plan on hanging out through the winter. Central upstate weather is no joke. It gets harsh up here. Are you planning to stay?”
His expression suddenly changed, and his gaze darted around. Fidgeting, he didn’t directly respond to her look. “ Hmm , well, ah , not sure yet. Sorta depends on my research, I guess.”
“Research?”
His uneasiness didn’t abate as he shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m a math and science tutor, elementary grades. Saved up my pennies, decided not to teach through the summer.”
“I see. A budding Hemmingway?” Oh, goody, an academic pain in the ass. All brain, no doubt, with little or no common sense .
He shuffled, gave a wan smile. “Nothing quite so grand, I’m afraid. Apparently I’m distantly related to the English author, Lewis Carroll, y’know, the whole Alice in Wonderland thing. I thought I might research the connection, maybe write a book on my findings.”
“Well, good luck. Surprisingly, we have high-speed internet out here, thanks to a communications tower just a couple of hills away. Otherwise, we’d still be using two soup cans connected by a waxed string. There’s a Wi-Fi router at the cottage. So, if you have a laptop, you’re good to go.”
“I do. Thanks.”
“Yep. Well, thanks again for the help. Catch you later.”
Even with her casted leg suspended between the crutches, her wrecked knee shot bolts of pain up her body, killing any desire to be more sociable. She waved goodbye, leaving Mr. Carroll to find his own way to the cottage.
Wallis turned toward the long line of stone pavers that led to the big Federal-style residence, the clapboard siding done in soft butter with cream trim. She still had a problem calling the ten-bedroom monstrosity a farmhouse. But, in truth, it anchored the two-thousand-acre farm parcel, which included several small cottages for managers and farm hands, in addition to the barns and outbuildings. Mr. Carroll would inhabit one of the cottages, just a couple of hundred yards from the main house.
She thought it ludicrous that her tenant, an educator, wasn’t aware that his supposed ancestral namesake, Lewis Carroll, was actually the pen name of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, who’d been childless. So, Theodore would have to be a Dodgson, not a Carroll. So, right off the bat, he was a bullshitter, which bore watching. As a tutor, he should know this stuff. Or, possibly, he thought she was a total Philistine who wouldn’t know the difference. Either way, not a good sign. She hoped he’d be gone at the end of the summer.
In front of the cottage, Theo continued to sit in his vehicle, considering how kind fate was. Could this be any more perfect ? She’s alone, on crutches, in the middle of nowhere, no close neighbors. And she’s very beautiful—Sandra Bullock beautiful, with strawberry blonde hair. It would be perfect if she had blue eyes, not green. Oh yes, quite pretty, but her language is offensive. And she shouldn’t wear such tight shorts. Anyone might see her and become aroused. I’ll deal with those things, later. Once I’m in charge, she’ll shape up and fly right .
He rolled and dragged his luggage up the front steps of the cottage, and used the key he’d gotten from the real estate agent after the rental agreement had been
“Good to know. I’m a city boy. Never lived this far from town before.”
She gave the once-over to his short, sandy hair, trendy, tortoise-shell eyeglass frames, light yellow button-down shirt, khaki Dockers, and brown loafers. It appeared that his socks matched his shirt. He had the whole Justin-Timberlake-as-the-guy-next-door appearance under total control.
“That could be a problem, if you plan on hanging out through the winter. Central upstate weather is no joke. It gets harsh up here. Are you planning to stay?”
His expression suddenly changed, and his gaze darted around. Fidgeting, he didn’t directly respond to her look. “ Hmm , well, ah , not sure yet. Sorta depends on my research, I guess.”
“Research?”
His uneasiness didn’t abate as he shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m a math and science tutor, elementary grades. Saved up my pennies, decided not to teach through the summer.”
“I see. A budding Hemmingway?” Oh, goody, an academic pain in the ass. All brain, no doubt, with little or no common sense .
He shuffled, gave a wan smile. “Nothing quite so grand, I’m afraid. Apparently I’m distantly related to the English author, Lewis Carroll, y’know, the whole Alice in Wonderland thing. I thought I might research the connection, maybe write a book on my findings.”
“Well, good luck. Surprisingly, we have high-speed internet out here, thanks to a communications tower just a couple of hills away. Otherwise, we’d still be using two soup cans connected by a waxed string. There’s a Wi-Fi router at the cottage. So, if you have a laptop, you’re good to go.”
“I do. Thanks.”
“Yep. Well, thanks again for the help. Catch you later.”
Even with her casted leg suspended between the crutches, her wrecked knee shot bolts of pain up her body, killing any desire to be more sociable. She waved goodbye, leaving Mr. Carroll to find his own way to the cottage.
Wallis turned toward the long line of stone pavers that led to the big Federal-style residence, the clapboard siding done in soft butter with cream trim. She still had a problem calling the ten-bedroom monstrosity a farmhouse. But, in truth, it anchored the two-thousand-acre farm parcel, which included several small cottages for managers and farm hands, in addition to the barns and outbuildings. Mr. Carroll would inhabit one of the cottages, just a couple of hundred yards from the main house.
She thought it ludicrous that her tenant, an educator, wasn’t aware that his supposed ancestral namesake, Lewis Carroll, was actually the pen name of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, who’d been childless. So, Theodore would have to be a Dodgson, not a Carroll. So, right off the bat, he was a bullshitter, which bore watching. As a tutor, he should know this stuff. Or, possibly, he thought she was a total Philistine who wouldn’t know the difference. Either way, not a good sign. She hoped he’d be gone at the end of the summer.
In front of the cottage, Theo continued to sit in his vehicle, considering how kind fate was. Could this be any more perfect ? She’s alone, on crutches, in the middle of nowhere, no close neighbors. And she’s very beautiful—Sandra Bullock beautiful, with strawberry blonde hair. It would be perfect if she had blue eyes, not green. Oh yes, quite pretty, but her language is offensive. And she shouldn’t wear such tight shorts. Anyone might see her and become aroused. I’ll deal with those things, later. Once I’m in charge, she’ll shape up and fly right .
He rolled and dragged his luggage up the front steps of the cottage, and used the key he’d gotten from the real estate agent after the rental agreement had been
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