Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
“Well, I guess in that case… the yard.” She gives her answer, but she’s not happy about it.
Kathy starts to say more, but that’s all I need from her, so I interrupt to quickly add, “And I do want to warn you again… a construction site isn’t safe. We’ll have checkpoints when you can come out and inspect things, but you can’t walk onto the site during construction. For your own protection.”
She frowns, not liking being told no, and decides on another tactic. “I understand. It’s just that since my husband died…” Her voice has gone quavery, and I swear she’s pinching herself to make her eyes water.
She pauses, waiting for the expected sympathy. I don’t have any. If anything, I offer a silent little cheer to the late Mr. Wilson, since it seems he’s now free of a burden no one should have to endure. So I stay silent, which clearly only annoys her more.
In a bit of a huff, she continues, “The kids and grandkids don’t come visit much. Only at Christmas, you know?”
She’s trying to make it sound like she’s lonely and was simply socializing with the guys this morning, but we both know that’s not true. She wouldn’t dream of having a chit-chat with Wayne—or me—if we weren’t doing work on her property. She thinks she’s above us in whatever social hierarchy she’s invented in her mind.
I’ve spent my entire life learning how to size people up, professionally and personally, in minutes. And Kathy Wilson’s not a kind old grandma who spoils her grandkids with treats and hugs. She strikes me as the complete opposite.
I bet it takes the promise of presents and cookies to get someone to voluntarily hang out with Kathy and her condescension, entitlement, and cattiness. She’s most definitely on a Worst Mothers-In-Law list somewhere, I bet. And I doubt even a water slide would be enough to bribe the grandkids to willingly come here for a visit. Not that she asked for something as fun as that. That’s not her style, nor the reason I’m here. No, I agreed to do her project because of the large sundeck with green and gold swirl mosaic porcelain tile that’ll be a beautiful addition to my portfolio, which is seeming less important the longer I’m dealing with Kathy.
“A pool seemed perfect,” she says almost wistfully. But she changes directions and tones at whiplash speed, from her supposedly much-beloved grandkids to Dani. “Especially once you put up the eight-foot-high fence to block the view of my annoying neighbor. I’m sure you’ve met her already. She can’t stay out of my business.” She rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively before looking at me eagerly, like she thinks I’ll agree with her assessment of Dani and join her in gossiping.
“The fence will provide some privacy,” is all I concede, though I’m thinking it’ll give Dani equal privacy from Kathy’s prying eyes because I don’t think it’s Dani in Kathy’s business, but rather the reverse. If it was just about property lines, the four-foot chain-link fence I hopped the other day would be more than enough, so it’s obviously more than that.
“Good. She’s always bringing all those dirty, unruly men of hers in those big, loud trucks to the neighborhood,” Kathy sneers, as if my crew and I aren’t the exact type of men she’s complaining about. “It’s a safety risk, you know. Especially when I’m outside tending to my garden.”
Kathy presses her lips into a flat line of distaste as she looks toward Dani’s, making it sound like she’s a prostitute bringing Johns to her house for a quick fuck, not a hard-working businesswoman providing a much-needed and appreciated service. I grit my teeth, not liking the way she’s talking about Dani. It might not be my business, but I still want to defend her and tell Kathy where she can stick her judgy bitchiness, and it’s not next to her fucking begonias.
But neighborhood feuds aren’t my job, although I’ve been the cause of a few. Not everyone likes it when their neighbors add loud, messy construction jobs to the local ambiance, and every once in a while, these feuds get vocal. When they’re good, they’re amusing breaks in the middle of the work day. When they’re bad, they interfere with my guys getting the job done.
I’m getting a bad feeling about the battle between Kathy and Dani.
“We are going to need to figure out the parking situation,” I comment, thinking about my truck.
It’s an opening for Kathy, who gleefully says, “It’s not an issue, because as I’ve been repeatedly reminded, curb parking is allowed in this neighborhood, and it’s not assigned by the house. And if it’s causing problems to my… neighbor” —she says it as if she can’t stomach saying Dani’s name—“then it’s not my problem, now is it?”