AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I need a game plan to limit the nuisance next door. I’ve been teaching undergrad courses since I started my PhD program almost ten years ago, and if there’s anything I’ve learned about dealing with squirrelly people, it’s to set clear expectations and boundaries and—here’s the important part—enforcethem.
I don’t like being in other people’s business. I’m content in my lane. But sometimes, other people’s nonsense blows into that lane, and I’m forced to deal with it anyway. This is exactly what the new neighbor situation looks like it will shape up to do. So, much like I’m training Cat to expect food each day, I’ll train the neighbor to behave as I wish. Orchard Street is a micro-society, and I’ll have to be the enforcer until she gets it.
It will annoy both of us at first—calling out infractions, drawing her attention to all excessive noise, and leaving polite notes and reminders periodically. But it shouldn’t take long for her to make sure that their behavior—and noise—fall within acceptable parameters. It will be uncomfortable short-term but worth it for all of us in the long run.
After the initial adjustment, I—and the rest of Orchard Street—can return to quiet evenings of crosswords and a glass of mid-range wine, evening shows and morning routines safe from disruption.
This is the single greatest appeal of living in Creekville. I hadn’t been back since my grandmother’s passing. The sense of guilt was too great despite my grandad’s many reassurances and invitations. Even after he left the house to me in his will, I still couldn’t make myself return for two years.
But tenured professors grow scarcer by the year in the cutthroat halls of academia, and my grandfather had possessed the one thing I needed most professionally: connections. He’d been the provost of Jefferson University in the late nineties and continued on the board of trustees until shortly before his death.
One of the other trustees had reached out to inform me that she’d promised him to advocate for hiring me if a relevant position came open, which it had. The series of interviews I’d had last fall were the first time I’d returned to Creekville since childhood, and I had found it largely unchanged.
I like tradition, routine, and knowing what to expect, and I knew what to expect from a town like Creekville. When the dean of the College of Social Sciences had called to extend a tenure track position, the job offer plus my inherited house were far too good of an opportunity to pass up.
My situation is ideal. In spite of the energy that buzzes around my new neighbor and her child, I will not allow their chaos to infect the rest of us. They will learn, and in the end, they will both come to value peace and quiet the way the rest of Orchard Street does.
I guarantee it.
Chapter Six
Paige
Thenextfourweeksare a whirlwind while we wait for all the paperwork to process. I walk past the house often and make plans with Evie. Her room is my first priority. After that, I want to remodel the living room. Those are the two spaces we’ll spend most of our time in, and I want them to feel like home.
A couple of times, I see Mr. Brown. Once, he frowns and doesn’t make eye contact. The second time, he pretends not to see me. His uniform of khakis only varies with the color of his sweaters. Gray. Navy. He’s still brown to me.
Finally, it’s move-in day.
“You ready for this?” Lisa asks.
We’re standing on the sidewalk in front of 341 Orchard Street, Evie holding my hand, Lisa and Bill on either side of us. It’s a Friday afternoon, and once again, Bill has closed the store for a bit so we can all get Evie after school and walk her over.
“Ready!” Evie shouts. “I want to go IN.”
“Ready.” I’m not as loud as Evie, but I’m just as excited.
“Then I believe these belong to you.” Lisa hands me the keys to the house.
There are only two, and even though she’s attached them to a small brass “R” key fob (for Redmond), they still feel light in my hand. Way too light for how hugely this changes our lives.
I curl my fingers around them, take a deep breath, and smile down at Evie. “Let’s go.”
She turns the old brass knob and pushes the door open, and I know one of my first projects as I listen to it creak. We step inside, and despite the musty smell, it feels far less haunted than it looks outside. As in not-at-all haunted. Maybe it helps that Halloween is behind us and we have two weeks until Thanksgiving. All the spooky decorations on Orchard are gone, and a few houses now boast fall-themed wreaths on their front doors.
The house—ourhouse—is more worn than spooky. The heirs had cleaned out all the knickknacks but asked if I wanted the furnishings left behind, and I’d told them yes. I had plans for the old furniture.
Other than that, it’s just us, faded walls, and dust bunnies.
Oh, and all of Evie’s excitement, which the small house can barely contain. “Time for Rainbow Magic Paradise!” she cries, and beelines for the bedroom she staked out as hers on the one walk-through she was allowed before the closing.
The floors are old oak, and her footsteps make a muffled thump as she runs. I smile at the Dubs, who grin back.
“Guess I better get used to that,” I say.
“She doesn’t go anywhere at a walk,” Bill agrees.
“Let’s move you in,” Lisa says.
