Then I felt it. That prickle on the back of my neck when someone is watching you.
« You just say the word. »
I looked up the slope.
The house next to mine sat higher than the rest of the street. It was large and beautiful, and on the second-floor balcony overlooking the lake stood a woman in a silk wrap, holding a cup as if it were a scepter.
The woman didn’t smile or wave. She just stared at my Chevrolet in the driveway as if it had personally insulted her mother.
« Morning, » I called up, trying to be polite.
She took her time answering.
The woman didn’t smile or wave.
« Could you park it somewhere else? » she asked finally, gesturing at my car with two fingers. « It’s ruining my view of the lake. »
I blinked.
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