Chapter Fifteen. Casey pulled into her driveway, shaking her head as Mr

Casey pulled into her driveway, shaking her head as Mr. Gunter stood on a ladder, cleaning out his gutters. She stopped the truck and hurried out, easily jumping the short hedges that separated their yards.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she said as she grabbed the ladder. "Haven't we had this talk already?"

"Oh, Casey, you worry too much. I'm perfectly fine."

"You're seventy-eight years old. You don't need to be climbing ladders." She looked up. "What the hell are you doing, anyway?"

He had a small spade in his hands and he held it out. "Supposed to rain tomorrow."

"And?"

"The gutters haven't been cleaned all summer."

"Oh, good grief. Come down now."

"I've just gotten started."

"I'll finish," Casey said. "Where's Ruth?"

"She was napping."

"And she'll kill you when I tell her what you were doing. Now come down." She held the ladder steady as he slowly descended, helping him down the last two steps. "Ronnie, you've got to be careful. What's Ruth going to do if something happens to you?"

"I know." He pulled off his gloves and wadded them together. "It's just, sometimes, I want to do something."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry." She hugged him quickly. "I know."

He stared up at the gutter. "Seemed like a good idea."

"Come on. You want a beer?"

He smiled. "That would hit the spot."

"Well, come on over. Let me change into shorts and we'll kill a couple of beers before we tackle the gutters, okay?"

"You're too good to us, Casey."

Casey only smiled. He said those words to her every time she helped them with something around their house. Mowing the lawn, hauling bags of compost for their flower beds, fixing the leaky faucet in the bathroom, and putting their trash out on the curb for them every Tuesday and Friday morning. But it was all stuff she enjoyed doing for them. They had two kids and seven grandchildren, and in the six months Casey had lived there, she'd seen them visiting twice. The house was full of pictures, but she could see the sadness in their eyes when they spoke of their grandchildren. Apparently, no one had time for visits anymore.

Later, after she and Ronnie had finished their beer, they tackled the gutters. Her reward was getting to share dinner with them. Ruth made chicken potpie and Casey, despite her protests, was sent home with the leftovers. It was a favorite meal and Ruth knew it.

Now, as she sat in the dark sipping her wine, the lights were already out next door. It had been a hot day and even now, nearly ten, the humidity was still high. Casey stretched her legs out, resting them along the railing of her deck, swatting at the occasional mosquito. She looked out over the dark water, seeing the twinkling of lights on the distant shore. Across the way was the country club and golf course. She smiled, wondering if Tori and Sam would really go through with it and buy a house there. She wouldn't mind it, really. It'd be better than them moving off somewhere, away from her.

She leaned her head back, watching the stars overhead, letting her mind drift. She wasn't surprised when thoughts of Leslie came to her. As far as partners went, she couldn't complain. They seemed to sense each other's questions, actions. There'd been not even a hint of a problem between them. She liked her. She must. She'd told her practically her life story. And she enjoyed their conversations, even enjoyed the monotonous chore of staking out the apartments. And like Leslie said, it'd be nice if they became friends.

It'd be nicer if she was old and frumpy, though.

She smiled. "Or ugly and portly," she said out loud.

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