The New Neighbor Mowed My Lawn the Week My Divorce Went Through novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: His Mother's Table

The old man had lifted his cup and walked home without a word.

I was still smiling about it in the van on Sunday afternoon.

Tyler drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift.

We crossed town through Grandview and Whitehall with the windows down.

"She's going to ask you everything," he said. "My mother."

"I'm fine with everything."

"She asks people their salary."

"Medical billing coordinator, and I'm not telling," I said.

He laughed, and the van turned onto a street of narrow brick houses with chain-link fences and flags on the porches.

His mother's house was the one with a Virgin Mary in the flower bed.

She was standing in the open front door before he had cut the engine, a short, square woman in an apron, with Tyler's gray-green eyes.

"This is Lena," he said. "My neighbor."

"Neighbor," his mother said.

She looked me up and down once, without hurry, from my hair to my sandals, and I felt my face begin to warm.

"Come in, neighbor," she said. "Sit. Eat. You look like you don't eat."

"I eat a lot," I said.

"Good. Then I made enough."

The kitchen was a small yellow room with a long table jammed against the wall and a pot of something on every burner.

Tyler's two sisters were already seated, one in a college sweatshirt and the other with a phone she put down the moment I walked in.

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