No place like home!

Melanie was tired of cutting grass and ready to move into an apartment . . . then she met Jeff!

After breaking up with Tim, I thought I was the lucky one because I got to keep the lease on our rented house while he took the newer car and I kept our old clunker. I didn’t want the new car—it has a stick shift, and I’ve never liked shifting gears. What I didn’t realize at the time was that I’m also not that crazy about shoveling snow and cutting grass, two chores that went along with staying in the house. Shoveling isn’t that bad since it doesn’t snow every week, but the grass is another story. It just grew and grew all summer and into fall.

One warm Saturday afternoon in autumn, as I tried to get the mower started, I thought about how much easier life would be if I rented an apartment instead of a house. Someone else mows the lawn or shovels the snow when you have an apartment. “Need a hand?” Looking up from the dead lawn mower, I saw an attractive man with dark hair, standing on the other side of the fence. I hadn’t seen anyone in the house next door since the last neighbors moved out a month earlier.

“I think cutting the grass is one of the dumbest things in the world,” I told him. “Why can’t we just let it grow?”

He laughed. “Because cities have rules about things like grass getting too long.”

“Then I think I need to move to the country.” I ran a hand across my sweaty forehead. “Better yet, an apartment with no front lawn.”

“I like cutting grass,” he said. “I just moved from an apartment, and I’ve actually been looking forward to mowing my own lawn for a long time.”

“You just moved in, right?”

He nodded. “A few days ago. I’m Jeff Hanson, your new neighbor. I’m renting to own,” he said. “The landlord isn’t sure if he wants to sell yet. I hope he does because I like this neighborhood.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jeff. I’m Melanie Lindstrom.”

Our eyes met, and I felt a spark of something I hadn’t felt since breaking up with Tim almost a year earlier. It felt nice. “It’s a good neighborhood,” I said. “Friendly people. I like it here.”

“I do, too, so far. Why don’t I take a look at your lawn mower? I’m pretty good with mechanical stuff.” Jeff walked around the fence and joined me. After attempting to start the engine a couple of times, he bent over the lawn mower, unscrewed the gas cap and peered inside. “You’re out of gas,” he said.

I felt my face flush. “You’re kidding me! I put gas in it just the other . . . ” My voice trailed off as I realized I couldn’t really remember the last time I put in gas. “Oops,” I said.

“Do you have a gas can?” He grinned, and I liked his smile immediately. It went all the way to his eyes and stayed there. “Yes, but I think it’s empty.” “I can help,” he said. “I’ve got some gas in the garage.”

Within minutes, my lawn mower was up and running. “Thank you,” I said to Jeff over the rumble of the engine.

He turned to leave, and even though I knew I’d see him again, I didn’t want to let him get away so quickly.

“Hey, wait a second,” I called. “Would you like some carrot cake? I baked one earlier, and I just have to frost it.”

Jeff turned back to me. “I love carrot cake! I’ll tell you what, you frost the cake and I’ll mow your grass. Like I said, I love mowing lawns.”

I gladly handed over my lawn mower. “You’ve got a deal. Neighbor, I think I’m going to like having you next door.”

Our eyes met once more, and that spark flew up into the air between us, like a firefly. I smiled and walked toward my back door. Maybe moving into an apartment wasn’t the best solution for me. Especially now that my house was beginning to feel more like home!

— Nell Musolf

His smile went all the way to his eyes and stayed there