Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Ugh.
Viola and Gary were honestly the worst thing about living in this neighbourhood. They were a retired couple and the sort of people who took offence to every little thing, then acted like you were doing it with the sole intention of ruining their entire lives. They were the reason I often found myself scrolling through listings even though I adored my house and really didn’t want to move.
One time, Viola had gathered all the leaves that had fallen from the cherry tree outside my house and left them on my doorstep. Never mind the fact that we lived on a street lined by trees. Thinking you could avoid falling leaves in autumn was insanity.
Another neighbour, Derrin, from three doors down, had a dog that barked for maybe thirty seconds once or twice a day. Honestly, you’d have to be unhinged to find it bothersome, but Viola and Gary had been so incensed that they’d called the dog warden and reported Derrin for neglect. The warden had soon decided the report was rubbish, but those were just two examples of countless others we’d had to deal with, and I was honestly on my last reserves of patience.
They were the most unbearably uptight couple to ever have walked the planet, and I had the severe misfortune to live right next to them.
6.
Shannon
“Miss Guerin,” Viola greeted coolly as I headed for my front door. After the divorce, I’d switched back to my maiden name, so she always referred to me as such. In fact, I was pretty sure she had no idea that I was ever married. It wasn’t something I went about advertising.
“Hello, Viola,” I gave her a curt nod and continued walking, but she cut me off. I noticed then that Gary was standing by their door, watching the exchange with his arms folded, eyes squinting.
“There were two cars this morning,” Viola stated.
Her skin was pulled tight across her cheekbones in a way that made her expression look permanently pinched, as if smiling might crack something. Her eyes—thin, assessing slits—flicked over everything with the kind of suspicion reserved for fingerprints on glass or scuffs on marble floors. Even the angle of her chin suggested she was smelling something faintly unpleasant, her nose tilted a fraction higher than necessary.
Her clothes were immaculate, too. Tailored to the inch, crease-free, the colour palette so coordinated it bordered on aggressive. There was nothing accidental about Viola. Every detail existed to send a message. And for a moment, the sight of her tugged at something old and unwelcome in my chest, a flash of my own mother. That same cold emphasis on appearances. That same silent judgement that made you straighten your spine even when you didn’t mean to.
I’d adopted a strategy of avoidance over the years, going out of my way not to do anything to garner hers or Gary’s attentions. But enough was enough. I wasn’t going to entertain the madness any longer.
“Indeed, there were.”
She huffed. “Is this going to be a regular occurrence?”
“Cars parking on a public street? I imagine so.” I motioned to our other neighbours’ cars parked nearby before shooting her a look of challenge. For a moment, it seemed like my response didn’t compute. She wasn’t used to me standing my ground.
“The vehicles block the natural light to our living room when Gary and I are trying to enjoy our breakfast in the window nook. I’d like you to please request that your visitors park elsewhere in future.”
The way she pronounced visitors like there was something untoward going on had a blood vessel in my forehead popping. It was on the tip of my tongue to fire back at her that both cars were parked on the road outside my house, not hers, and if I owned a car, it would be parked there all the time. In fact, I was half tempted to buy some unsightly old banger and park it outside permanently just to spite her. But then a better idea occurred.
“I think you should make that request yourself. I’m sure my visitors will be all too happy to oblige.” I paused as I glanced at her spineless wet blanket of a husband before continuing, “In fact, let Gary do it. He shouldn’t send his wife out to talk to strange men when he’s perfectly capable.”
My comment had her expression morphing into rage as I turned and stepped into my house, shutting the door promptly in her face. It entertained me immensely to imagine Gary confronting Jace about where he parked his car in the mornings. While I’d always shied away from confrontation, my ex-husband did not. Like his father, he was quick witted and a pro at verbal sparring. Jace also detested bullies. At school, he and Elias often had to stand up for Roan, who was so shy and artistic that it made him a target for arseholes.