Page 33 of Two Couples

I should have stopped pushing. She, or both of them, clearly didn’t want to get together, unless her obvious desire for a glass of Zin and a cookie overcame whatever was bothering her. I could see that both of those menu items, not to mention the spaghetti, appealed to her.

“Is there anything I can do to entice you?” I laughed to make the question sound more casual. “We’d love to get to know you better. And our houses are so close to each other. Your mother used to own this house.”

“I’m aware,” Jordan said.

“Then why don’t you reconsider? Good food, easy conversation—what do you have to lose?” I gave her another friendly smile. I glanced to my right as something flickered in my peripheral vision.

Linda was standing on the front porch. She moved toward me, her long, dark hair moving in the breeze. She brushed it off her face.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’m following up on Emily’s dinner invitation. Who doesn’t like spaghetti and Zinfandel, garlic bread and chocolate chip cookies?” I hoped I didn’t sound patronizing, or rude, or mocking, or any one of twenty things that might cause them to back off further.

“You’re persistent,” Linda said.

I laughed. “You know I am. You experienced that when you sold the house to us.”

“It feels like you have an agenda.”

“Not at all. I was just telling Jordan, we want to get to know you better. Our houses are so close and⁠—”

“Fine,” Linda said. “If it’s that important to you. What time?”

“Seven?” I asked.

Jordan looked upset, but she said nothing. Linda nodded without smiling.

At ten minutes past seven, the table was set, a huge blue and yellow ceramic bowl was filled with spaghetti, and the garlic bread was sliced and kept warm in a basket with a linen towel.

Through the living room window, I saw Linda and Jordan walking toward our front porch.

Emily opened the door and invited them in. Because the food was ready, we went directly to the table, allowed them to choose their seats, and took our own places.

Keith poured the wine while Patrick finished grating cheese in the kitchen. He entered with a small bowl of Parmesan.

“So why the fancy dinner?” Linda asked.

“We’re thrilled to have you next door,” Emily said. “Neighbors should be⁠—”

“Thrilled to have us next door?” Jordan asked. “We were here first.”

“I didn’t mean⁠—”

She interrupted Emily again. “You’re the newbies.”

Keith raised his glass. “Let’s have a toast. Here’s to being neighborly.”

Everyone raised their glasses, but no one echoed his words. We drank and began serving the food.

“How long have you lived here?” I asked, hoping to deflate the antagonism that had etched itself across Jordan’s face.

“Since I was born,” Jordan said.

“Almost thirty years,” Linda said.

“Wow. Your house looks like it can’t be more than ten years old, or so.”

“The original cabin was torn down thirteen years ago. Both houses were built within a few years of each other.”