The following Monday, she put her Going out of Business sign in the window of Lazy Days Spa, in among the Christmas decorations and day's special signs. No one remarked on it. They were too busy exclaiming over the Christmas tree designs and other fingernail art. They had to get a massage right that moment. Christmas shopping was wearing them down. What were those delicious aromas coming from those amazing candles? Jane didn't know if her extended holiday hours were a blessing or a curse. How much more obliviousness from Fendersburg could she take?
She let out a shriek
of utter relief when she retreated to her apartment, and collapsed on her
couch, in the dark, to listen to Christmas carols. She had survived her first
day of Going out of Business.
Two minutes later,
buyer's remorse struck.
If her life was a horror
film, or a farce, this was the point where all the bad news would start rolling
in. She would find out that Neighborlee had an insane asylum at the north end
of town and a federal prison at the south end, and despite the renovations and
repairs and the building inspector's certification, her building was prone to
gas leaks, stubborn plumbing, ghosts, and had lost six tenants in the last four
months.
"No. It's going
to work out. I've earned it," she told herself repeatedly.
She certainly
couldn't stay in Fendersburg. Even if no one noticed her Going out of
Business sign, she couldn't, wouldn't turn back now. Learning to be blind
and deaf to the regularly occurring minor catastrophes all around her had been painful.
Letting Timmy Higgs suffer for his nastiness and refusing to pick up after
irresponsible people was easy enough. Refraining from tripping shoplifters and
chasing after runaway baby carriages was not. So she didn't. She could still
manage such rescues without anyone guessing.
The fact that the
accident and crime rate continued to trickle downwards rather pointed out she
wasn't needed after all. She should have quit being the Ghost years ago.
Time to move on.
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