My new neighbor had clearly decided she disliked me before we had even been properly introduced.
I remained there with my keys in my hand, feeling a quiet warning in my stomach. A complaint from someone like Valerie was unlikely to end with a single conversation.
Three days later, I was collecting mail at the edge of the gravel driveway when I heard heels grinding against the stones behind me.
I knew who it was before turning around.
Valerie had replaced her cup with a designer handbag, but her expression remained unchanged.
“We need to talk about your vehicle,” she said.
“We really don’t,” I replied, pulling several envelopes from the mailbox. “It’s parked on my property.”
“It’s hideous,” Valerie replied.
Heat rushed into my face.
She moved closer until I could smell her perfume, then examined me from head to toe.
“Let me be clear with you, sweetheart. Maybe people like you don’t belong in a neighborhood like this. Normal, wealthy people live here. Not single moms in rusted-out Chevrolets.”
Anger surged through me.
“My daughter and I live here now,” I said. “You’ll have to get used to the view.”
“We’ll see about that.”
She walked away, her heels clicking sharply, while I stood gripping a water bill until my hands finally stopped trembling.
I did not realize Olivia had overheard us until dinner.
She quietly moved peas around her plate before looking up at me.
“Mom, why does that lady hate us?”
“She said we don’t belong.”
I placed my fork on the table.
Olivia was only eight, yet she had already learned to understand the meaning hidden behind adult words.
“Some people think a nice view is more important than being nice,” I told her. “That’s their problem, not ours.”
“But you looked sad.”
“I wasn’t sad. I was thinking.”
Olivia chewed slowly. “About what?”
“About how proud Grandpa would be that we live in his house.”
That brought a faint smile to her face, and I hoped the matter was finished.
It was not.
