Page 113 of The Neighbor Wager


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She texts the address of the bar.

And I head home, to face a conversation I don’t want to have.


I use the backyard entrance, shower, change into jeans and a T-shirt. The second I step into the main room, I feel like a little boy. Underdressed, under-informed, under-equipped to deal with the reality of this summer.

“Going out tonight?” Grandma asks as if she doesn’t know the answer. She’s sitting on the couch, sipping red wine, snacking on a homemade charcuterie plate.

It’s just us. Fern and North are already out. “In a while.”

“Anywhere interesting?” She pretends she doesn’t know my plans—as if Fern and North didn’t tell her everything—as she spreads fig jam over a cracker. “Or anyone?”

“What are you doing?”

“Sharing.” She adds white cheddar and offers the snack to me. “Your favorite.”

“What are you doing with the neighbors?”

“Plotting against you, of course,” she deadpans.

“Grandma.”

She sets the cracker on a small plate and pushes it to the other side of the coffee table. “Fern wanted to have a girls’ day. That’s all.”

“And you didn’t invite Deanna for some reason?”

“Yes. Some reason.” She shrugs as if she doesn’t know what I mean.

Which is bullshit. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Interfere.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, sweetheart.” She fixes herself a jam and a white cheddar cracker. “Did you eat dinner?”

“No.”

“Then come. Bring the bottle and the rest of the block.”

I bring the cheese but not the wine.

Grandma frowns as I take the seat next to her, but she doesn’t ask for alcohol again.

“You have a bad strategy, you know.” I take a bite of the cracker. Let the mix of rich fig, creamy cheese, and crunchy flour dissolve on my tongue.

“I do?”

“What do you think will happen if I fall for Deanna?”

She looks at me carefully. “I think she’ll break your heart.”

“Me, too.”

Surprise streaks her expression.

“Is that what you’re doing?” I ask.

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