Digging In: A Novel(20)

Miss Khaki, red faced but determined, stepped to Mr. Eckhardt’s other side, and placed her liver-spotted hand on his forearm. “There are rules,” she said. “And there are consequences for not following them.”

“What kinds of consequences?” Mykia said. Her voice matched her opponent’s—cool and unperturbed.

“Do you live here?” the khaki-clad woman asked.

“Does it matter?” Mykia countered. “I’m just talking sense.”

Label Lover addressed me. “You have a corner house. Anyone walking by can see this eyesore. It’s not good for the community, and we take the well-being of the community very seriously.” She reluctantly removed her manicured hand from Mr. Eckhardt and placed it on my shoulder. “I take our citizens’ well-being seriously as well. Bill has filled us in on your tragic situation. If you need financial help—or if you need to speak to someone—my husband, bless his departed heart, was a renowned therapist. I’m well versed in grief.” She glanced at an uncomfortable Mr. Eckhardt and added, “Though the past is past and I do feel moving forward is important, in every way.”

Her concern oozed over me like a BPA-filled plastic film. I couldn’t stand her false pity, so I looked down, my feet at the edge of the dirt pit. I leaned slightly forward and let my shoes sink into it.

“Well?” she said. “Are you ready to talk solutions? Are you ready to let us help you?”

“Help me?” My brain suddenly felt fuzzy, my thoughts muddy as my shoes. “How would this help me?”

The silent pause that followed was brimming with awkwardness. The two women pretended I hadn’t said anything and looked at me with feigned compassion. Mr. Eckhardt seethed. Jackie went off to have a smoke. Glynnis began to fold into herself for protection from their scrutiny.

“Can I ask you to step over to my vehicle?” The cop’s voice was raspy, but still it sounded too loud.

“What?” Was I being arrested? Should I ask someone to grab a phone and start recording? I scanned his chest for a body cam.

“She doesn’t have to do that,” Mykia said. There was steel in her voice. The cop smiled, revealing crooked teeth. His eyes twinkled. With his red hair and bristly red beard, he resembled an overgrown, slightly chubby leprechaun.

“I’m not hauling her into the station . . . yet. I just think a private conversation at this point would be most productive,” he said, and gestured for me to follow him to his copmobile, parked in front of my house.

“I’m recording you,” Mykia said, holding up her phone. “It’s not illegal to do so.”

“Go right ahead, ma’am,” he said.

“I’d prefer all conversations to be had in front of everyone,” Mr. Eckhardt said, using his voice of authority.

“Sir, I think it would be more productive for me to speak with Miss . . . uh . . .”

“Mrs. Moresco,” I said. “And if you give me your word you aren’t going to try to bully me, I’ll talk to you.”

He placed three fingers over his heart, like a Boy Scout. “You’ve got my word.”

“Every move you make,” Mykia called out as we walked toward the squad car. “Every single move you make. I’m recording everything!”

Once out of earshot, Officer Leprechaun started laughing, a great big guffaw. “Lady, what the fuck are you doing?”

My mouth dropped open. “Did you just swear at me?”

“I did. Your friend’s phone won’t pick that up, so you’ll have trouble proving it in a court of law,” he said, still laughing.

“I’m having trouble figuring out the source of your humor.”

“It’s just I haven’t seen that trio so worked up since that homeopathic doctor opened her doors downtown.”

“Oh. So, I’m off the hook?”

His expression turned more serious. “They weren’t blowing smoke when they said there are ordinances. I’m not well versed in the bylaws of this particular subdivision, but I do know people who stop mowing their lawn or put a car up on blocks are soon convinced to change their habits ASAP. I don’t even think they allow garage sales.”

“Who stops them? You?”

“Not me.” He glanced over at Mr. Eckhardt, who was sandwiched tightly between the two elderly women. “However, I do need to come when they call the police, or else I’ll hear about it from my sergeant. And I wasn’t kidding around when I said you need to call the gas company. You start digging seriously and that could go wrong pretty quickly.”

“A garden,” I said quietly. Suddenly my plans felt foolish. “I want to plant a garden.”

He whistled. It was an old-fashioned sound, and I smiled despite myself. “Have you ever heard of starting small?”

“I’ve always started small,” I said. “I figured it was time to go big.”

“That’s a good attitude, but fair warning—you’re going to have a battle with them. They don’t give up easily, and they’re always convinced they’re right.”

I smiled up at him. “I’m learning to deal with people like that.”

He smiled back. “And how’s that going?”

“Not good,” I said. “But I’m optimistic.”