The Grumpy Neighbor Wants the Size 22 Girl Upstairs, and the Walls Are Thin novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: The Stairwell

"Then tell me," I said.

Chandler sipped his coffee on the stoop and shook his head.

"At the party," he said. "I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."

"You're bluffing."

"Am I?"

"You've never written a kind word in your life."

"I've never needed to," he said, and smiled at his own joke. "I'll see you Thursday, Molly. Loretta's planning meeting. Bring your appetite."

I took out the trash with my heart hammering.

He was lying.

He had to be.

But he'd had my ninth note in his pocket for a week, and I couldn't make that go away.

Thursday night, Loretta's kitchen smelled like cornbread and bay leaves.

She sat at the head of the table in a purple church hat she hadn't taken off since four o'clock.

Her cane stood propped against her chair.

Costa sat on one side of me, so close that his knee pressed mine under the table.

Chandler sat across from us with a laptop and a spreadsheet.

"Catering is three thousand dollars," he said. "I recommend we cut it to eight hundred."

"We're not cutting the catering," said Loretta.

"Aunt Loretta, the house has expenses."

"I'm one hundred years old."

"You're seventy-two."

"The house is one hundred. I'm in the house. It's the same thing."

I coughed to cover a laugh.

Costa's hand found mine under the table and squeezed.

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