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Eden’s first week as a homeowner had been filled with unpacking boxes, which was almost done, and catching up with work, which seemed to pile up as soon as she thought she was on top of it. She’d enjoyed the lack of drama working from home had given her, but she’d found it was easy to get distracted by other things that needed to be done. She also had to admit that, even though getting away from people had seemed so appealing at first, it was a bit dull not seeing someone pass by, or speaking to someone at the watercooler as she stretched her legs.
Eden sighed, shoving her laptop aside, and wishing she could fit in another hour of work. Instead, she had to look for something appropriate to wear to a neighborhood improvement/block party. The lucky recipient of their service was the owner of the overgrown yard across the street. Apparently the woman who lived there, Mrs. Thorne, wasn’t able to keep up with it these days. She’d let it slip that she had an appointment in Omaha, so the neighborhood had decided to all pitch in and help out while she was away.
Eden’s first instinct was to stay out of it. She didn’t want to give the neighbors the wrong idea about what to expect from her participation in social events. She was certain they’d all be very nice to begin with, but sooner or later somebody would be banging on her door, angry at her for getting involved in some mess she’d never intended to stick her nose into. But Dotty had looked so disappointed when Eden had tried to make an excuse that she’d finally agreed to go. Besides, she didn’t want to ruffle any feathers by refusing to pitch in.
Eden had to admit, she was a little sorry to see the mess go. Mrs. Thorne’s was the only house in the neighborhood that didn’t conform to what seemed to be an impossible standard. Since the moment Eden had moved in, she’d had a nagging worry that she wouldn’t be able to live up to that standard herself. Mrs. Thorne’s house gave her hope that she wouldn’t have to. But it wasn’t just that. The house was an expression of individuality. To be honest, Eden’s idea of a perfect home looked a little more like Mrs. Thorne’s than the perfectly clipped hedges and landscaping rock-filled gardens she saw everywhere else.
Eden opened the last remaining box in her bedroom, and reached down to the bottom, fishing around until she caught on something that felt like denim. She pulled out a pair of overalls Cindy had convinced her to buy a couple of months earlier. Eden wasn’t sure where else she’d be wearing them, so they may as well be for yardwork. She’d be doing plenty of it now.
She found a faded coral t-shirt, two mismatched socks, and her tennis shoes. After she was dressed, she coaxed her hair into a loose, tangled braid that fell over her shoulder. She hoped her neighbors didn’t expect as much of each other’s dress standards as they did housing exteriors, or they were certain to be disappointed.
“Doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like I have anybody to impress.”
“Are you sure about that? Jack thinks you’re pretty.”
Eden’s head whipped around. “Who’s there?”
“How may I assist you?” Gabi said, her tone more robotic than usual.
“Oh, now I get a standard response?” Eden searched for her phone, and found it perched on her dresser. “Was there a new update or something? You’re sounding less and less like a phone these days.”
“I like to think of myself as a friend,” the stilted voice said. “And as a friend, I should tell you that your socks don’t match.”
Eden gasped, throwing the phone on the bed. She started backing out of the room. “What, is the phone company watching me now? That is seriously creepy.”
“Say hello to Jack for me. Maybe if you give him permission, he’ll—”
Eden slammed the door. “I’m going to need a new phone. One that doesn’t give me dating advice.” She hurried to the kitchen, grabbed the cookies from the basket, and dumped them onto a plate. Dotty had told her she was welcome to bring a refreshment of some kind to share. Seeing as how all she had was a few necessities, the cookies would have to do. She hoped whoever baked them wouldn’t notice.
She swiped one from the plate and took a bite. It was a soft and chewy pumpkin cookie with an unexpected flavor—was it spiced cider?—and the cream cheese frosting was to die for. She closed her eyes, relishing the taste, but feeling a stab of guilt for taking them over, as if she’d made them herself.
“Not like Jack wants to talk to me anyway,” she mumbled. “There is something seriously weird going on there. He looked at me like I’d sent the yellow jackets after him. What is his problem anyway? He was the one who dumped my underwear all over the lawn. If anything, I should be rejecting him.”
The microwave beeped. Eden jumped, whipping around. She exhaled, shaking her head. The microwave had come with the house. Maybe that was only because it needed to be replaced. Eden stepped closer to read the words that were running across the front panel.
Have you eaten anything healthy today?
“Really? Now I have a judgmental microwave? I’m absolutely certain that didn’t get an update.” Eden took the plate of cookies and gave the microwave a suspicious glance over her shoulder. She grabbed her phone from her bedroom, making sure it was turned off, and stuck it in her back pocket.
She was still mumbling to herself about Jack when she slammed the front door behind her. Hopefully he had other plans and she wouldn’t have to see him. She had to admit, he looked like the kind of guy that would have plans that didn’t involve yard work with people who cared too much about curb appeal. He looked like the kind of guy who would have dates, and who didn’t spend his evenings conversing with his phone. As long as he stayed away from her, Eden didn’t care how he spent his time.
Eden hurried across the street, where the project was already underway. Nearby, there was a long table filled with lemonade, muffins, fruit, and cookies. She spotted Dotty pouring a drink. “You people know how to do yard work,” Eden said, finding a spot for the cookies.
Dotty smiled. “I feel bad for asking you to work when you haven’t even moved in yet. But I thought it would be a good way to introduce you to everyone.”
“I actually like yard work,” Eden said. “Although I haven’t had a yard since I lived in Des Moines with my mom.”
“But you don’t have any gloves. I hadn’t thought of that,” Dotty said. “I’m sure someone has an extra pair.”
“Did someone say they needed gloves?” A tall, middle-aged woman stopped midstride. She had intense, golden-brown eyes and a somewhat sharp nose that made Eden think of a hawk. “There’s a station right over there with tools and extra gloves.” She smiled and abruptly held out her hand. “I’m Beverly Ackleton. You must be Eden Lockheart.”
“Then I will be,” Eden said. She knew it was a stupid joke, but something about the woman made her nervous. Even though she didn’t look that much older than Eden, Beverly made Eden feel like she was ten years old, standing in front of the principal.
“Beverly is the HOA president,” Dotty said in her sugar-sweet voice. Dotty seemed to have shrunk an inch or so herself. “She planned all of this. She’s very gifted with organization.”
“Is that her ...”
“My inheritance? Maybe.” Her lips sealed in a secretive smile. “Sometimes it’s difficult to separate them from personality traits. Have you met many of the neighbors yet?”
“Only a few. You and Dotty. Oh, and Jack.”
Beverly seemed to stiffen, if it were possible. Her eyes bored holes right into Eden’s soul. “You’ll want to stay away from Jack Skelton.”
Eden laughed, aware that it came off a bit stiff. Why was a woman she’d just met telling her who she should and shouldn’t date? “Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem. I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”
“Hmm,” Beverly said with a tight little smile and tip of the head, as if she wasn’t convinced. “Well, why don’t you and Dotty go and grab some hedge trimmers. There’s nothing like working side by side for making acquaintances.”
Dotty smiled. “Or friends.”
Eden smiled weakly in return, trying to swallow her guilt. Dotty was so nice that Eden felt bad for keeping her at arm’s length. She reminded herself that even the nice ones tended to leave eventually. Cindy was probably her longest-lasting friend, and now, because of Eden, they’d gone their separate ways—not that Eden could regret Cindy having a chance at a better life without her loser boyfriend.
Eden watched Beverly, who had taken hold of a tall man’s shoulder. He folded his arms and turned to her, evidently not pleased with whatever instruction she’d given him. They started to argue in hushed tones.
“That’s her husband, Harrison,” Dotty said.
“Apparently he doesn’t like to be told what to do, either,” Eden said quietly. “It’s irritating enough to have someone tell you how short you have to cut your grass. She thinks she can tell me who to associate with as well?” Eden didn’t even know why she’d explained herself to Beverly. What she did, or who she did it with was none of anybody’s business. Actually, the less they got involved with her life the better.
“She doesn’t mean it that way.” Dotty crumbled a cookie with her fingers. “She just wants what’s best for you.”
Eden laughed. “And Jack’s dangerous?”
“For you, dear ...” Dotty frowned. “Yes.”
Eden shook her head, hurrying off to the supply station. Dotty followed after her. “It’s more of a family situation. His family and yours—”
“Like a family feud?” Eden smirked as she pulled on a pair of gloves. She paused, working her fingers into place as the thought sunk in. It tickled some neglected, guarded place in her chest. She’d never known much extended family, let alone people who knew her family from way back. The idea of a feud was ridiculous. Maybe even fun.
Eden shook her head, pushing the thought away. What good was yearning for these connections when she was determined to keep her distance? Besides, there was nothing fun about the way Jack and his father had treated her.
“Not exactly. It’s just that one of you interacting with one of them—”
“So he’s not dangerous so much as a snob. Got it.” She turned to Dotty. “Look, I’d really rather not hear any more about it. It doesn’t matter anyway. The only reason I’d speak to him is to show Beverly she has no right to interfere in my personal business. I’ll decide what’s best for me.”
A woman turned around. She was probably about fifty, and the corners of her eyes crinkled with laughter. “It’s nice to hear some youthful rebellion. I’d love to see that uptight crow knocked off her perch.” She winked, then gave a dramatic bow, her large, flowered head scarf flopping in front of her face. “I’m Yolanda Biddle. And this is my husband, Arthur.” She tugged a balding man with glasses to her side. With his shirt buttoned all the way to the top, he looked like Yolanda’s polar opposite.
“Hey,” Arthur said blandly, pointing at the cookies, “those look like the ones I baked.”
Eden pretended not to hear him.
“It seems I’ve found a kindred free spirit in the neighborhood,” Yolanda said. “You’re Eden, right?”
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you.” Eden nodded at Mrs. Thorne’s house. “So she’s not a free spirit? I thought with a yard like that ...”
“Martha?” Yolanda waved her hand in the air, dismissing the idea. “Goodness, no. Martha’s just stubborn. She hates Beverly, and she hates being told what to do, not that I can blame her for that.” She lowered her voice. “But that’s not the only thing. She’s starting to lose control of her mind a little bit, and with it, her inheritance, if you know what I mean.”
Eden tried not to look interested, but she couldn’t help it, and Yolanda seemed to pick right up on it.
“Martha’s got one of the more impressive inheritances.” She gestured around the neighborhood. “How else do you think we got trees that look decades old in a matter of a few years?”
“Oh, I see.” At least Eden’s question had been answered. Whether or not she believed it was a different matter.
“She’s definitely gifted, although she’s not the only talented gardener around here.” Yolanda gave Eden a secretive smile. “But whether or not she won the citywide hydrangea competition, Martha’s plants are her life. She loves them even more than that son of hers. He knows it. That’s why he only comes around a couple of times a month. But she’s losing her grip. Arthur goes over to help when she needs a hand but she’s just horrible to him and he never seems to make much progress.”
Arthur cleared his throat, and his thin lips turned down. “I don’t mind helping, but she’s not very personable. She seems to forget that I am not a paid employee, but rather am volunteering my time.”
“I’m afraid of what might happen if she doesn’t get everything under control,” Yolanda said.
“I guess it’s a good thing we’re here, then.” Eden looked up at the grey clouds that had gathered. “Do you think we’ll get rained out?”
“It’s not likely,” Dotty said. “I knitted a cute little blanket for Lorna’s kitty. She’s so thrilled we won’t have rain for a week.”
Just as Eden was about to ask about Lorna, she spotted Jack. He’d just turned around and thrown an axe on the ground. He stretched out his arm muscles, which in turn stretched out his fitted tee, as he headed toward the table. When his eyes locked on Eden’s he veered around, heading towards a cooler of soda.
The women had just started talking about a particular section of Mrs. Thorne’s yard that needed extra attention, and Eden took the opportunity to escape. She walked around the table, her fists clenching tighter the closer she came to Jack. The sound of his father laughing, as well as the horrified look on Jack’s face, wormed back into her memory. She’d been so confused— embarrassed, even. And she hadn’t done anything wrong. All she wanted was a few words with Jack before she left him alone forever.
Jack’s eyes widened when he saw her, and he backed up, pulling the tab on his soda. Foam squirted out, dripping off his beard and soaking his shirt. He growled and bit back a curse. “I already told you. You have to stay away from me.”
“Looks like a good idea. You don’t seem to be a man of exceptionally good luck.”
Jack hurried off before she could get a few more choice words in. It was just as well. She wasn’t supposed to be stirring things up, just minding her business. She only hoped Jack and his father would do the same.
Eden glared, watching Jack say something to his father. The older man’s belly shook as he laughed again.
“What are you laughing at?” Eden mumbled. At least she knew two neighbors who she would feel no shred of guilt for avoiding.