The next morning, I insist on coming into work even though Damien and Aranya order me to stay home. What am I going to do at home all day? I’d be bored.
Besides, I would have missed the enormous box that showed in the middle of the morning if I had stayed home. We all stare in disbelief as the delivery man struggles to enter the front door with the brightly wrapped package balanced precariously on a cart.
“Delivery for Damien Torres,” he announces.
“What did you order?” I ask.
“I didn’t order anything,” he responds. “At least nothing that I had gift wrapped and sent here.”
“Somebody must like you then.”
As soon as I sign for the delivery, Stumpy, Marshall, and Marcus all rush out from the backroom to gawk at the package. “Is that for us?” Marshall asks.
“It’s for Damien,” I explain.
“It must be for us,” Marcus chimes in.
“I just said it’s for Damien!”
After the three of them put their heads together, Marshall continues. “Stumpy asks why wouldn’t it be for us?”
“Because not everything is for you!” I remind them.
At this, the rabbits giggle. Although when I think about it, given how often they get their way, I suppose it’s reasonable to assume presents are always for them, from the rabbits’ point of view at least.
Damien and I are still fixated on the enormous package. We’re almost afraid to open it.
“It isn’t ticking, is it?” Damien asks.
I place my ear against it. “No ticking. But why would you think it would tick?”
“I don’t know, something you got yourself into? Some enemy we don’t know about yet?”
I rest my hands on my hips and glare at him. “I don’t get myself into that many dicey situations.”
“Yes, you do!” he declares.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’m done with all of that. I’m sworn to a life of simple cafe ownership. No more crime solving adventures.”
Damien makes a noise that I can’t quite describe. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”
“Whatever! Just open the package, would you? Wait, here’s a card.”
Damien takes forever opening the card. I want to rip it out of his hands and open it myself. He must be one of those people who opens presents very carefully, one piece of tape at a time.
He reads the card and then smiles, passing it to me to read.
To Damien and Tom, Thanks for the burritos. Love, Gladys
“What on earth could this be?” I ask.
“Only one way to find out,” he shrugs as he proceeds to open the package exactly as I predicted. One piece of tape at a time.
The rabbits eye him impatiently. I know they’re desperate to get their hands on the wrapping paper. Actually, I know they’re wishing the same thing I am. That he would hurry and just rip the paper off. Although for different reasons than me. They just like to chew up the paper.
When he finally gets the enormous piece of wrapping paper undone, and drops it to the ground for Marshall and Marcus, they pounce and tear into it while Stumpy sits back and looks confused as to why shredding up wrapping paper is so exciting.
Damien and I gasp when we realize what it is. It’s the exact unicorn bed set that they had wanted but wasn’t available. “How could she have known?” he asks in wonder.
“Gladys knows everything,” I remind him.
“I can’t accept this, it’s too much!”
“Oh, take it. She’s an old woman with no family left. She probably loves the idea of being able to give Poppy this.”
“I’ll never be late with her burrito again,” he breathes.
“How are you going to get this thing home? I guarantee it won’t fit in my Prius,” I laugh.
“I’ll have Tom swing by with the pickup.”
“This is gorgeous. How did she find one when you looked all over and couldn’t?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” Damien responds, scratching his head.
“Never underestimate Gladys’ powers!”
As we continue to admire the bright pink bed, Miranda bursts through the door. I need to put a bell around her neck. “You two are never going to believe this!” she shouts. “Guess who’s coming to Crested Peaks?”
Damien and I look at each other. “Shemar Moore!” we cheer.
“What? No. But how cool would that be?” Miranda marvels.
“Who’s coming to Crested Peaks?” I demand. I swear she’s as bad as the rabbits.
“Our fourth favorite reality tv show!” she exclaims, jumping up and down and clapping her hands.
“That’s How the Cookie Crumbles?” Damien says.
“Yes!” she shrieks again as we all join her, jumping up and down and clapping our hands. You’d think we hardly get excitement around here otherwise.
“When?” I ask.
“The week of Thanksgiving!”
“That soon? How can they put something together like that so quickly?” I assume it normally takes months at least to put a show together.
“I don’t know, but Harvey just told me they’re filming it at the Hotel Glacier, and it will be a live Thanksgiving themed pie baking competition with four contestants.”
Damien grabs my shoulders. “We have to get tickets, boss. We have to get tickets!”
“How do we get tickets?” I ask Miranda.
“I don’t know! Should I go find out?”
“Yes!” Damien and I chorus again, which we really should stop doing.
“Okay!” Miranda throws her hands in the air, spins around, throws open the door and dashes out, declaring, “I need tickets to That’s How the Cookie Crumbles!”
“Best week ever!” Damien declares.
“I know!” I agree.
“I mean except the part where you got kidnapped by murderers.”
“Of course, of course,” I nod my head.