The house next door to Sarah and her mother Marie has been vacant since the murder that happened there when Sarah was ten. Their neighbor, Frieda, was like a second mother to Sarah and she died brutally and the neighborhood never recovered. No one has lived in Frieda’s house for seventeen years. Imagine Sarah’s surprise when it finally sells to an on-line buyer. She looks through the thick growth separating her house from the other and a wild man looks back. He’s not exactly wild. He’s thirty-seven year old Spencer Gundry. Once he shaves the beard and gets a haircut, he’s not hard to look at. Well Sarah’s mom doesn’t think so, and neither does she. Problem is, Spencer has a few secrets of his own.
Things don’t sell quickly in this town, that’s for sure. But with the murder, no one wanted Frieda’s haunted house even though it was repainted beige and all personal knick-knacks were long gone. Such as blood spray on the walls. No one wanted that really.
So imagine my shock, or dismay I should say, when he moves in. I see him over the fence. I go out there because the squirrels keep stealing my sweet corn and I only planted four short rows. So I go out there to whack a stick at the squirrels and I see that rental truck in front of the place and no sooner do I think about that and here he comes from around the back of it.
Right off I am interested. I mean, who buys a house where…who does that?
But I’m oohing and owing my way to the backdoor cause, no shoes, and I am nearly there when he calls out, in a very handsome voice, a voice so nice I would know it belonged to a very handsome man if it’s all I had to go on. And he is handsome. I knew that at the three second glance when he’d first manifested from the back of the rental truck.
The closer he gets the more right I am. And I have to make myself not bolt.
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Living comfortably in the heart of America, a fake extrovert who is genuinely introverted. Lots of good story tellers in my small world, then started first grade. They put me in the middle reading group (probably based on my math scores) and after one class moved me up to group A. That was the conscious beginning of loving story.
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