The Land of Mango Sunsets Read Online Free PDF

Swanson?”
    “Yes. Won’t you come in?”
    Well, I don’t have to tell you that I thought he was perfect for the apartment. He chuckled when he saw the color of the walls and said he would repaint them at his own expense. Then I saw him staring at my legs. Kevin saw him staring, too, and I could tell from Kevin’s bristling body language that he didn’t like him at all. I took a deposit check and his cell-phone number and told him I would keep his check, that I had two other possible candidates to see on Monday, and that I would let him know. But I’ll admit, I did practically let him think the place was his.
    Kevin was furious with me.
    “Why didn’t you just give him the keys?” he said sarcastically as he drained the pasta into my sink.
    “Very funny. Do you want a glass of Chianti?”
    “Already poured one for myself. Harry and I have been in here praying that guy didn’t do something terrible to all of us. I couldn’t wait to hear the door close! Harry kept saying ‘Good night! Good night!’”
    “So that’s why he’s in his cage?”
    “Yes! Even Harry had the good sense to worry!”
    I poured myself a glass and looked at the kitchen table. It was simply but beautifully set for dinner with a cut baguette, wrapped in linen and placed in a sweetgrass basket from Charleston. Crystal goblets reflected the light of the candles borrowed from my living-room mantel; a glistening salad of butter lettuce and tomatoes, grated Parmesan and olive oil,tiny dishes of coarse salt and freshly ground pepper all waited at attention; and my silver pitcher was frosted from the ice water it held.
    How could I not value Kevin’s opinion? This was what he did. He went to great lengths to be sure everything was as lovely as it could be. So did I, most of the time, but the difference was that he did it with some innate joy as opposed to my joyless sense of duty.
    That was me. If he had not set this glorious table I probably would have jumped down Kevin’s throat and told him he was wrong about the man I had interviewed and I would have just ignored Kevin’s instincts. Whether it was my family, my waning volunteer career, or a new tenant, I had to be right, have the last word. My way or no way. Maybe this was one of the rules that needed to be broken, one of the things I needed to change. In a rare instance of détente, I conceded the point and decided to let Kevin have his way.
    “Okay. You and Harry win. I give up. What do y’all think I should do?”
    The tiniest of victorious smiles crossed his face as he plated our dinner.
    “Give me his check,” he said. “You know me. I’m not usually so suspicious about people, but something about him—no, everything about him—was inappropriate. I’ll have my friend in human resources run a background check on him.”
    “Fine. Fine.”
    Kevin looked down his nose at me with raised eyebrows, challenging my sincerity.
    “No! I said fine and I meant it! Now let’s eat.”

Chapter Three
T HE C ANDIDATES
    I put a crisp five-dollar bill in the envelope and sponge-sealed it. Did twelve-year-old boys eat ice cream in the dead of winter? My sons would have eaten ice cream at three in the morning any time of the year. Oh, who knows? The little varmint next door would probably spend it on a ball of crack, I thought. In the next moment, I had an ever-so-fleeting pang of guilt when the mental image I had of said varmint included freckles on his little nose and braces on his teeth. Well, it was enough that I had recognized his good deed, and if I did truly contribute to a drug habit it would not have been my intention. Or problem.
    I had bigger fish to fry, as Mother liked to say.
    I had scheduled an interview with a lady from Ohio or Pennsylvania at eleven and then another young woman was to stop by at four. Both had references and both sounded very nice on the phone. The lady from Ohio (or was it Pennsylvania?)—Jean, I think—was a client of my hairdresser. The other gal was the