Maria’s kitchen is small but incredibly cozy. It’s about half the size of our kitchen. Maybe even less. But that makes sense, since Maria’s house is about half the size of ours or maybe even less. But the kitchen suits her. It’s small, no-frills, and everything seems very well organized. I appreciate a well-organized kitchen. I even have a show on the secrets to a well- organized kitchen.
“How do you take your coffee?” Maria asks as she gets the coffee machine going. “I’ve got cream and sugar.”
Maria’s coffee machine looks like the one my mother had when I was a little kid. It’s old-school. She pours coffee grounds into a little filter and flips a switch to turn it on. I have to admit, I’m very particular about my coffee. A year ago, I bought a machine that makes espressos and cappuccinos right in the comfort of my own kitchen. It was not cheap, but I justified it as a business expense by doing an episode of Sweet Secrets about the secret to making the perfect cappuccino.
The secret, in case you were wondering, is using ice-cold milk right out of the refrigerator to make the perfect foam. (And also, purchasing a five-hundred-dollar cappuccino machine.)
“Cream and sugar would be great, thanks,” I say. I glance out the window at our own house, clearly visible across the way. I left the lights on in the kitchen. “Actually, I made some brownies for you guys. I’ll bring them by later.”
I’ll give her the brownies from my show today. I’ll make something else for Carrie tomorrow.
Maria’s eyes light up. “Owen would love that. I am hopeless in the kitchen, especially when it comes to baking.”
“I’ve always been pretty good at baking,” I say. “I have a little YouTube show about it.”
“Oh, I know!” When I look at her in surprise, Maria’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, a few people mentioned to me that you’ve got the show and I watched it the other day. You’re sort of a celebrity around here, you know!”
Now it’s my turn to blush. “Am I?”
She nods eagerly. “The show is great. I tried to make your homemade chocolate chip cookies, but I’m so hopeless, they came out terrible.”
She rifles around in the refrigerator, looking for the milk. I can’t help but crane my neck to look over her shoulder. I know it sounds crazy, but I am very curious about other people’s refrigerators. Maybe it’s because I love to cook so much. I feel like the inside of a person’s refrigerator tells you a lot about them.
For example, Maria’s refrigerator is just like the rest of her house. It’s small and neat, without much inside, but very well organized. I spy a few pieces of fruit in the crisper, a container of milk, orange juice, a loaf of bread, and some cold cuts. I suppose they’re the sort of family that gets takeout a lot.
“So what brought you out here?” I ask, as Maria removes the container of milk from her fridge. I quickly peek at the expiration date—she’s got two more days.
She glances at the coffee machine. It’s still churning. “Our last apartment was in a terrible school district. There was a lot of bullying at the school and nobody seemed to care. We wanted something better for Owen.”
I nod eagerly. “The schools are amazing here. Owen will love it. What grade is he in?”
“Second grade.”
I do my best to hide my surprise—based on his size, I thought for sure Owen was in first grade or maybe even kindergarten. “Same as Bobby! Who is his teacher?”
“Mrs. Reynolds.”
My heart leaps in my chest. “That’s amazing! That’s Bobby’s teacher.
They’re in the same class!”
Maria clutches her chest. “That’s wonderful. I’ve been so nervous about Owen making friends, but it seems like he and Bobby are getting along great.”
This is incredible. I had been hoping to have a neighbor that I could be more friendly with than elderly Mrs. Kirkland, but I hadn’t dreamed of getting a neighbor with a little boy Bobby’s age in the same class as him. It will be so nice for Bobby to have a friend on the block whose mother isn’t… well, Julie. Not that I don’t love Julie, but she can be intense. And Leo is so overbooked with afterschool activities, he never has time to play.
“Are you planning to join the PTA?” I ask.
She hesitates. “I wasn’t sure. I got a flyer about a meeting this week.
Do a lot of people join?”
“Oh my God, yes.” I’m embarrassed to tell her how much of my life is consumed by the PTA. But at least I’m doing work for a good cause—my kid’s school. “And Julie—she lives on the other side of you—she’s the president of the PTA this year and she’s going to push you to join. For sure.”
A funny smile plays on Maria’s lips. “Yes, I’ve already gotten a few notes from Julie. She says she’s the… block captain?”
I groan. “Yeah, she pretty much made that up to feel important. It’s not like we voted for her or anything. At least, I didn’t. She organizes all the stuff on our block, like yard sales and the book club… that’s next Thursday, by the way, in case you want to come.”
“Yes, I saw the book was almost six-hundred pages. That seems a bit… challenging.”
I lift a shoulder. “Honestly, I have no idea. We never discuss the book for more than a minute or two. We spend most of the time gossiping. Julie picks the books, and they’re always the longest, most boring books in the world.”
She laughs. “So it’s okay if I didn’t read it?” “Heck yes. I sure haven’t.”
The coffee machine lets out an obnoxious buzzing noise that sets off a jab of pain in my left temple. I’m already planning to buy Maria a new coffee machine for Christmas. You can never start planning for Christmas too early. During all of December, I usually do Christmas-themed episodes of Sweet Secrets.
Maria pours me a cup of coffee in a white mug with a little crack on the side. I pour in some milk and a few teaspoons of sugar, then take a sip. Just as I suspected—it’s awful. Barely edible. I’m definitely buying her a coffee machine. Something amazing. It will change her life.
Her eyebrows bunch together. “Is the coffee okay?”
“It’s fine!” I pour in a little more milk in an attempt to make it tolerable. “Delicious. But you know, the secret to a really good cup of coffee in any machine is grinding your own beans. It’s never going to taste as good if you buy coffee grounds at the supermarket.”
Maria nods politely. “Oh, okay.”
“Sorry!” I say quickly. “This coffee is fine. It’s just… This is what I do, and it’s hard to turn off the tips, you know?”
“Of course. And thanks for the tip.” Maria takes a sip of her coffee and seems to be genuinely enjoying it. Huh. “Anyway, I would love to join the PTA. I’ll just have to see if I can fit it in with my work schedule.”
“You work?” I can’t disguise the surprise in my voice. Most women in this neighborhood are stay-at-home moms. With my weekly YouTube show, I do more than most.
She flashes me a self-conscious smile. “I manage Helena’s.” Oh my God! So that’s why she looks familiar!
She raises her eyebrows. “Have you heard of it?”
“Heard of it?” I shake my head. “I love Helena’s! Your clothes look so great on camera. I could buy the whole store, except it would wreck my profit margin.”
That’s not an exaggeration. The last time I went to Helena’s, it was a hide-the-credit-card-bill situation. They have incredible stuff, and it’s also expensive. Whenever I look at the price tags, I want to cry. It’s like a tease to have such beautiful clothing that I can’t afford.
“Well,” Maria says, “I get a thirty percent employee discount that you’re welcome to take advantage of.”
“Are you serious?” She nods.
Okay, this really is too good to be true. This lovely woman is my neighbor, and not only does she have a son the same age as mine, but she can get me thirty percent off at my favorite clothing store in the entire world.
“Thank you so much, Maria,” I say. “Believe me, I will pay you back in brownies. Or chocolate cake. Or scones. I make really good scones.”
She laughs, but I’m not kidding. I adore this woman. And I do make great scones. The secret is that you have to bake them close to each other. Scones like to be kissing.
I clear my throat. “So where is your husband? Is he at work?”
“Oh, no,” she says quickly, as if such a thing would be ridiculous. And it is ridiculous. I still can’t believe Elliot went to work after the scare we had. “Sean just stepped out to grab some groceries. He’ll be back soon.”
“What sort of work does he do?” I wonder if he’s a lawyer like Elliot and Julie’s husband. There are a lot of lawyers on this block. And bankers. Most of them commute into the city—I’m lucky Elliot has an office out on the island.
“He has a contracting business.” She lifts her chin. “He started it from scratch. And in the last couple of years, it’s taken off.”
As if on cue, the front door lock turns. I jerk my head around just in time to see a guy with light brown hair and a well-trimmed beard lumber into the living room holding a bag of groceries. That must be Sean.
“Daddy!” Owen screams.
He abandons his Lego creation and propels himself at his father. What follows is several minutes of pretty adorable roughhousing between father and son. Owen loves it. Bobby looks on with a crease between his eyebrows, which makes me realize that this is something Elliot never does with him.
When Sean finally disentangles himself from Owen, he looks up and his eyes widen at the sight of me sitting in his kitchen. He clears his throat.
“Sean,” Maria says, “this is April and her son Bobby. They live next door.”
He straightens up and retrieves the bag of groceries from the floor. I can’t help but notice his worn T-shirt and frayed blue jeans are a far cry from what my husband was wearing today. “Next door, huh? Are you the one who keeps leaving us notes about our car being parked wrong? Or are you the one who makes cookies on YouTube?”
I laugh. “Cookies.”
A smile spreads across his lips as he deposits the groceries on the kitchen counter. “Well, then it’s nice to meet you, April.”
Sean’s dark blue eyes meet mine as he sticks out a hand for me to shake. I can’t help but notice that his palm is rough and calloused compared with my husband’s. Hmm, Elliot might not be the hottest husband on the block anymore.
“Sean was planning to take Owen to the park to practice soccer,” Maria explains.
My ears perk up. “Bobby adores soccer. Does Owen play a lot?”
“God, yes,” Maria says. “He loves every sport, but especially soccer.
Sean used to coach back at his old school.”
“Oh yeah?” I shouldn’t be surprised. Sean looks like a natural athlete. “That’s great. What coach do you have here?
Sean pauses in the middle of sorting the groceries. “Unfortunately, we were too late to get Owen on the team. I put him on the waiting list, but we’re not hopeful.”
I feel my eyes light up. I love helping people out with problems. “I’m really good friends with Mark Tanner, Bobby’s coach. I could talk to Mark about putting Owen on the team.”
Sean beams at me. “You think you could do that?”
“Definitely.” I grin at the Coopers. “I’ll just make him up a batch of chocolate cupcakes. Nobody says no to chocolate cupcakes.”
“Thanks so much, April.” Sean puts the last of the groceries—a dozen eggs—in the refrigerator and then pours himself a cup of that terrible coffee. He takes a swig of it black. “Hey, would Bobby like to come to the park with us to practice now?”
That is a very tempting offer. Bobby loves playing soccer, but Elliot never has time to play with him during the weekend.
But at the same time, I’m still shaken about Bobby going missing. Even though I found him after less than fifteen minutes and he was perfectly safe the whole time, the thought of sending my little boy off with a man I literally met two minutes ago leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
“April is a little shaken up,” Maria explains to her husband. “Bobby wandered over here without telling her, and gave her quite a scare.”
“Oh?” Sean looks at me with interest.
I shrug and try to play it off. I didn’t even tell them about the creepy text message. “It was a bit scary when I didn’t see him in the backyard.”
Sean places a hand on his chest. “I promise, I will guard him with my life, April.”
He isn’t being facetious. I can tell he would keep a close eye on the boys. And probably protect them better than I ever could. I have a feeling if his son went missing, he wouldn’t shrug it off and say he “probably went to the neighbors.”
But even so, I don’t quite feel comfortable yet. And anyway, I need to have a talk with Bobby about running off without letting me know. I still can’t believe he did that. He definitely needs to be punished.
“Next time,” I promise.
Sean grins at me. “Sure. Owen and I are usually kicking the ball around in the backyard, so Bobby is always welcome to join us.”
“Or you could come to our backyard,” I add. “Ours is much bigger, so there’s more room to run around.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. These people don’t want me to point out that our house is twice the size of theirs. It’s obnoxious. I didn’t mean it that way anyway… I just meant that we have more space. That’s all.
Sean doesn’t seem offended, thank goodness. But now that he’s home, Owen is overeager to get to the park. I expect Bobby to beg to go with him, but he seems agreeable to heading back home. That’s good, because I don’t feel like fighting with him right now.
“I’ll see you at school drop off tomorrow,” I tell Maria as I herd Bobby out the front door.
She waves at me. “Looking forward to it!”
Bobby is skipping all the way home, and to be honest, I feel like skipping too. Maria is amazing. I finally have somebody I can be friends with on the block who isn’t super judgmental and bossy. And Bobby has a new best friend too. Also, Sean seems really nice. Really really nice.
“Maybe me and Dad can play against Owen and his dad at the park,” Bobby says.
My stomach drops. Bobby doesn’t know his father already went to work. Then again, you’d think by now he would expect it. But he still keeps hoping his father will stick around and take him out to play.
“Actually,” I say carefully, “your dad had to go to work today.” Bobby’s lower lip juts out and his face turns pink. “But that’s not fair!
He always goes to work on the weekend!”
Secretly, I agree with my son. But Elliot and I have to maintain a unified front. “You know your dad has a super important job.”
A tear escapes from Bobby’s left eye. He’s still young enough that his response to anything unfair in life is to start crying. I wonder when that will change. “But I want to go to the park!”
“Listen.” My voice takes on a firm tone. “I told you Dad needs to work. And anyway, you’re being punished now. I’ve told you a hundred times not to leave the backyard without my permission. I’m very angry with you.”
Bobby’s brown eyes widen. He looks so much like his father right now. It’s so strange to catch these little glimpses of Elliot in my son. “But I didn’t leave without your permission! You said I could!”
I snort. “I most certainly did not!”
“Yes! Owen’s mom said you told her it was okay!”
I shake my head. I can’t believe how good of a liar my seven-year-old son has become. It’s getting to be a problem. I’m going to have to watch out for this one. “That’s not true.”
“It is! She came to the fence and told me you said it was okay for me to come over!”
I think back to the text message and get an uneasy feeling in my chest. Is it possible Maria would send me that text message and then lure my son out of the backyard just to scare me?
There are a lot of crazy people out there. After all, someone sent me that text message…
I shake my head. No. No way. Maria was genuinely shocked when she found out Bobby was there without permission—she couldn’t fake that. And why would she do something so evil? Not that there aren’t people in this town that dislike me, but I only just met the woman. The more logical explanation is somebody simply saw him leave my yard and wanted to give me a warning.
“Even if that were true…” Which it isn’t. “You still should have gotten permission from me directly. You are never supposed to leave the backyard without asking me if it’s okay. Do you understand?”
Bobby lowers his eyes. “Yes,” he mumbles. “What? I didn’t hear you.”
“Ugh!” Bobby does not like rules. He also doesn’t like apologizing.
He’d rather rip off his right arm than say sorry. “I told you, yes!”
He’s saying yes, but I don’t entirely trust him. I’m going to have to dole out some sort of punishment, like no TV for the rest of the week. He’ll kick up a fuss about that one, but it needs to be done. I still can’t believe he would just leave the backyard without telling me. And then to lie about it… Does he think I’m stupid?
