deal. Have I mentioned the Nautaline comes with a seventy-five-inch flat screen?”
Chip’s eyes narrowed.
“I’ll just leave you my card.”
The man slipped a business card on the step between them, then raised his hands as though caught by the police as he moved backward. “Call me.”
Chip turned and rang the doorbell.
The door swung open immediately.
Mrs. Lewis tightened her robe around her, her hair in rollers.
“Mrs. Lewis. I’ve run into a bit of a problem—”
“Honey,” she said, peering over his shoulder, “I believe you’ve run yourself into a zoo.”
“Yes,” he said swiftly, his mind on the clock. Ten minutes. He had ten minutes to get to the bank. “I’ve told them it was all a mistake and to go home, but it looks like we may have people coming in and out for a while.”
Mrs. Lewis fixed him with a stern expression. “What do you need?”
He hesitated. “Do you mind keeping an eye on my house for a bit and making sure nothing extreme happens? Like, oh, I don’t know”—Chip threw out a hand—“an unbalanced woman showing up with a megaphone taking bids for the house? I should be back within an hour.”
Her brow rose at his suggestion, but she just nodded. “Sure thing, honey. Leave it to me. I won’t let anyone start messing with your house.” She paused, peering over his shoulder. “Or your new landscaping. Hey!” she called, flapping a hand in the air. “You there! Step away from the man’s hydrangeas!”
Chip gave her a grateful smile. “Maybe you’re the one who’s going to need a megaphone.”
Mrs. Lewis cinched the belt of her robe with a determined air. “Don’t you worry about a thing. You go on. You can count on me.”
“I appreciate that.” He really did. “You’re a good neighbor.”
Despite how wonderful a neighbor he truly had, nine minutes later, at precisely eight o’clock, Chip gripped his steering wheel with the unleashed power of a python. He stared at the back of a 1971 Nautaline houseboat at an utter standstill in the middle of the road, animals and barterers all around. And as he did so, Chip held on to one, and only one, thought.
Bree Leake was most definitely not a good neighbor.
Chapter 19
Bree
Nearly a week passed in virtual silence.
Quiet, terrible days.
Saturday afternoon Bree did a series of flap-ball-change steps in her socks as she cradled her phone to her ear and moved to the sink with her coffee mug. Roughly four days ago her feet had started to tap-dance without her approval. Also, if she was not belting out the words to “Good Morning,” she was humming it every hour around the grandfather clock. This was what she got for practicing with Birdie twelve hours a day. If she didn’t get the part, at least she could perform on the sidewalk for tips.
Her sidewalk stage name could be That Girl Who Used to Be That Fairy for Barter. She’d do great.
“I tried talking to him, Cass. Honestly. Later that day, I tried.”
“Tried telling him you were sorry?”
“So sorry. I even wrote a note and put it in my window.”
“Pause. You put a note in your window?”
“We do that sometimes.”
“You exchange notes in your windows. Sometimes?” Cassie exclaimed.
Bree shook her head as she popped open the microwave and set her mug inside. Her legs took her into a shuffle-hop-step-flap-step. “Nothing like that. We dabble mostly in I-hate-you notes. Cheap and convenient taunting.”
“But he forgave you,” Cassie countered. “So now the notes are . . . ?”
“Nonexistent. I haven’t gotten any note in a week. And believe me, Cass, that feels worse than the I-hate-yous.”
She set the time for thirty seconds and pressed Start.
“So you said you were sorry and wrote a note. What did he say?”
“That’s the worst part.” Bree dropped her head. “He pulled an incredibly polite voice, said he accepted my apology, and . . . nothing. He went inside and we haven’t had a conversation since.” The microwave beeped as she twirled while tapping. “I didn’t mean for him to miss whatever thing he was going to. I didn’t try to plant that houseboat on the road.”
“Bree. You summoned everyone from Virginia, East Tennessee, and West Virginia, claiming you were a desperate man trying to get rid of his house for a few chickens.”
“I didn’t force them to come. Or stay—”
“You posted the ad on Craigslist for five different cities.”
“I thought I would get a few people crazy enough to believe it,” Bree said firmly. “I mean, honestly, who would believe a man would trade