Chapter 10

It was strange to know nobody on the street but Mrs. Springer, and Glenn, of course. I told myself to reach out to the newer people, the Worthingtons and Martins, but screaming toddlers and double-wide strollers put me off.

My front yard had been changed from lawn to hardscape by my parents: rock, bark, drought tolerant plants on an efficient drip watering system, while the back was relative chaos. Mature plants had run rampant, the lawn was dead, and the oak tree needed pruning. Sitting on the patio one day, I decided reclaiming it would be my project. And I’d get Glenn to help.

Soon as I considered the idea, I discarded it. Maybe he wasn’t a physical-labor guy anymore. Maybe he no longer wanted to fix things. He’d had a job in Seattle, but what kind?

I took Mrs. Springer a plate of lemon squares, deciding to pump her for information.