Chapter 80

“What’s his company’s name?” Andy said.

“Foster Network Services,” I said.

“I know who he is,” Andy said, “but only by reputation, and he has a very good one.”

We walked together to the sidewalk and said our good-byes.

Saturday morning, Mike and I were on the patio at ‘oh dark hundred’, as they say in the military, and by midafternoon, the privacy fence was a reality. We’d selected sections of stockade fencing made from six-foot cedar boards very closely spaced together. Standing in the middle of the patio, I could see the windows of Frances’ den and spare bedroom. I doubted very much that anyone standing at one of her windows would be able to see below our chests when we stood, and when we lay on chaise lounges, we’d be virtually invisible.

“Do you think we need to stain the cedar?” Mike said.

“Sure,” I said. “If nothing else, it will add a few years to the life of the fence. We can go buy some stain after dinner.”