Excerpt: LIVING PROOF (that no good deed goes unpunished), Neighborlee, Ohio, Book 4

 

Back when I was a kid,I hadn't realized that I broke just as easily as any ordinary mortal.

"Hey, you canstill fly, with Kurt's help. Thank goodness he's the Handyman." Sheslipped the lid on the box with Mum's sarong and tossed it to me.

I caught it withbrainpower and tossed it down the hall and around the corner to my office. Icouldn't see where it landed, but since I didn't hear a crash, chances weregood it hadn't knocked over any stacks of papers or CDs or books.

"One down, adozen to go," I muttered, and mentally marked present number one off mylist.

"Speaking ofKurt…" She flipped anominously plain brown plastic bag upside down, emptying a half-dozensorting-and-storage boxes onto the floor. "What do you think? He canadjust the sizes of the compartments."

"Justright."

The perfect gifts forKurt had always been mechanical, in one form or another. I admired the sortingboxes she had chosen, in varying depths and widths, and promised to help herwrap the presents.