One of her single family houses needed a new countertop before she could rent it out again. The previous tenants had apparently set their hot pots directly on the counter, without putting down a towel or a pot holder. They didn't like to clean up grease, either. Scorch marks and burned indentions decorated the pale blue kitchen surfaces, and Ginger would have none of it. She liked to offer smooth surfaces to her incoming tenants. It seemed fitting, like a display of the service she provided as their landlord. Landlady.
"Domestic Dwelling Provider," Eddie once said.
Strong pipes, smooth kitchen surfaces and safe electrical currents. "If I advertised, I'd make that my tagline," she said to Eddie.
They lifted the countertop out of Eddie's truck bed and carried it quickly into the house. It was a quick job, and the sink fit without hassle. All the measurements lined up.
"Smooth like the new counter," Eddie said.
"Easy installation equals easy living," Ginger agreed.
Once the hard part was over, the pair started to clean other areas in the kitchen. The stove sat under a window, and oil had made its way onto the glass. Oil was splattered across the ceiling, too.
"I'll get the step ladder," Eddie said.
While Ginger scrubbed the windowsill, she thought about how little she knew about most of her renters. She knew a few from her bar tending days, which meant she really only knew their names, their best jokes, and their drink preferences. A few she knew by credit score. Some of them had better jobs than others. She remembered that one of her tenants was a doctor of some sort. And she knew that Daniel had a daughter who didn't talk much, but had a heck of a way with a hammer, a wrench and a paint roller.
She sighed. When she looked up, Eddie was standing on the ladder and scrubbing the ceiling. His arm reached over his head and lifted his shirt away from his waist. She reached out and slid her finger through a belt loop on his jeans. He stopped what he was doing, looked down into her eyes, and then lowered himself slowly from the ladder.
"What's up?" he asked.
"Do you want kids?" she said.
Eddie shut his eyes for a minute. When he opened them, she was still looking at him, waiting for an answer.
"I don't know. Do you?" He thought deflection might be his best bet. He didn't want to answer incorrectly, if there was an incorrect answer. He just wanted to finish up and go back to Ginger's place and kick back and watch television. Maybe he'd play a little guitar. Maybe he'd put in a light fixture.
She looked around the kitchen. "I've got these places," she said, as if it were the same thing.
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