Sure enough, three days after that first balcony exchange, I was checking the mailbox at the end of my gravel driveway when I heard heels crunching behind me. I already knew who it was before I turned around.
Valerie had swapped the cup for a designer tote, but the expression was the same.
“We need to talk about your vehicle,” she said.
“We really don’t,” I replied, pulling a stack of envelopes out of the mailbox. “It’s parked on my property.”
“It’s hideous,” Valerie replied.
My face turned red.
My neighbor stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her perfume, then looked me up and down.
“Let me be clear with you, sweetheart. Maybe people like you don’t belong in a neighborhood like this. Normal, wealthy people live here. Not single moms in rusted-out Chevrolets.”
I was livid!
“My daughter and I live here now,” I said. “You’ll have to get used to the view.”
“We’ll see about that.”
She walked off, her heels clicking, and I stood there staring at a water bill until my hands stopped shaking.
I didn’t know Olivia had heard until dinner.
***
My daughter was pushing peas around her plate when she looked up and asked, very calmly, “Mom, why does that lady hate us?”
“She said we don’t belong.”
I set my fork down. She was so young, and she’d already learned to read between grown-up lines.
“Some people think a nice view is more important than being nice,” I told her. “That’s their problem, not ours.”
“But you looked sad.”
“I wasn’t sad. I was thinking.”
Olivia chewed slowly. “About what?”
“About how proud Grandpa would be that we live in his house.”
That got a small smile out of her, and I thought that was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
***
The following afternoon, Harold came up the walk with a plate of cookies wrapped in cling film and the world’s most conspicuously casual expression.
“A small welcome to the neighborhood gift,” he said, holding them out. “My late wife’s recipe. She’d want the new neighbors to have them.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know. Can I sit for a minute?”
I waved him toward the porch steps. Olivia was inside coloring, but I noticed her ear tilt toward the screen door the second Harold sat down.
“So,” he said, setting his hat beside him. “Valerie.”
“You heard.”
“Ma’am, half the street heard. She’s not exactly a whisperer.”
I laughed in spite of everything.
“She’s done this before,” Harold continued. “Two families in five years. Both left. She has a way of making people feel like renters in their own homes.”
“Wonderful.”
“Here’s the thing.” My new neighbor glanced at me sideways. “That balcony of hers? Not permitted. The stone wall along her side yard? Sitting three feet into the public easement land. Those fancy statues by her walkway? Also on the easement. Her contractor doesn’t have a license in this state.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know all that?”
My husband kissed my forehead and said, “France. Just a short business trip.” Hours later, as I stepped out of the operating room, my heart
My husband left me and our six children for a fitness coach – I didn’t even have time to think of revenge before fate caught up with him
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