Moving On Read Online Free Page A

smile, asked, “Can I help you?”
    “Yes, please.” Anna held out her hand. “Anna Jenkins. I’m moving into 400 Green Avenue. I arrived late yesterday afternoon without realizing I had to make arrangements to have the water turned on. I’d like to do that now.”
    “One moment, please. You said 400 Green Avenue.”
    “Correct.”
    “It seems we have a mailing address to a lawyer’s office. Yes, here it is.” Her quick brown eyes breached the top of her reading glasses as she skimmed the information flashing on the computer screen.
    “I’m the beneficiary of Mr. Good’s will,” Anna said.
    “Do you have proof of ownership?” The clerk cocked her head and raised her eyebrows.
    “Yes. I have a letter.” She opened her purse and passed it to J. Kipfer.
    “Strange. I don’t remember anyone named Jenkins in the Good family. You must be way down the list or something.” The woman’s nostrils flared as she handed the paper back.
    Anna could have explained, but she kept repeating her mantra— self-care —in her mind. Instead, she smiled.
    “Just the water? Have you made arrangements for the power and telephone?”
    “No. I’m new at all this. I should have done more research, but sometimes you’ve just got to jump in and start. Can you understand that?”
    “Of course. That’s why I’m here.” J. Kipfer dialed her phone. “Nick, are you busy?”
    A deep, rolling voice thundered over the speakerphone. “Yes, sweet thing. What can I do for you?”
    “Nick, stop fooling around.”
    “Your wish is my command. What’s up?”
    “I have a woman in my office who would like the water turned on at the old Good place. Can you fit it into your schedule today?”
    Engine sounds throbbed through the room. “Sure. I’m driving over to that side of town in about five minutes to check a water sample. Can she be there by then?”
    Anna smiled and nodded. It felt good to be on the periphery of such a teasing voice.
    “She says yes. Have you seen Hank around with the power truck?”
    “He’ll be in later today to locate gas lines.”
    Is that a bark in the background? Of course, Nick is probably a very common name.
    “Great. We’ll take care of the power, too. Good bye.”
    “Whoa there, boss.”
    J. Kipfer straightened, pen poised. “Yes, what is it?”
    “Tell the lady not to hurry. I’ll look in on Herman and make sure he’s not doing too much after his surgery.”
    “When Jim worked here, there was a lot less jabbering,” she commented.
    “Not to worry, I’m sure you will find someone just like him and then everything will run the same as before.”
    “From your lips.”
    “Later,” he replied, and Anna heard a click from the speaker.
    Without bothering to look up another number, J. Kipfer dialed quickly. While she waited, Anna caught sight of a town map with all of the street names. She ran her finger along Center, the main street, until she found Green Avenue and followed it to the block with her address.
    There it was. She would occupy property permanently marked on a map. Regina Beach wasn’t very large. Its dimensions were a mile on either side of Center Street and only one-half mile from the highway where she came into town, to the edge of the lake. She would be part of a community that made up a small dot on a long lake.
    Anna turned back to the clerk when she heard the receiver placed back into the cradle. “Everything seems to be in order, Ms. Jenkins.”
    “Call me Anna, please. Thank you for all of your help.”
    “Welcome to Regina Beach. If we can do anything, please call or drop in during business hours.”
    “Thank you, Ms. Kipfer.”
    Anna allowed the little skip in her step on the way to her car, and drove the posted speed limit. Yet it felt as if she was crawling along the streets. She returned a wave from a man in a plaid shirt digging in his garden. Slower moving got things accomplished. In Toronto, she would still be caught up with inboxes and forms for another week.