She laughed. I did not.
After we hung up, I stood at the kitchen window and stared across the low fence at my neighbor Monica’s yard. Monica, thirty-something, three kids, a husband who traveled, and a shiny white Tesla always parked crooked in her driveway, nosed up close to the fence we shared, as if the mulch beds and the solar lights were only for show.
Her habits, however, were not.
I already knew Monica had trouble understanding where her property ended and everyone else’s began. I just didn’t know yet how far she’d taken it.
I told myself she was busy.
Six months ago, my garden gnome disappeared. A silly little thing my husband bought me at a flea market the summer before he passed. He’d pressed it into my hands and grinned. ‘For the garden, El. Every yard needs a little nonsense.’
Two days later, I spotted the gnome sitting cheerfully by Monica’s front steps, wearing a fresh coat of blue paint like it had always lived there.
I never said a word.
Then the lawn mower went missing from my garage. It came back a week later, tank empty, blade dull, and no note. I told myself she was busy. Three kids. Give grace.
Two hundred and twenty-seven dollars.
I wasn’t the only one. Frank across the street had complained once about a ladder Monica had “borrowed” and forgotten to return. At the time, I’d laughed it off. That was Monica. She borrowed first and asked later.
Looking back, I should have realized that people like Monica don’t stop when nobody stops them.
“Keep the peace, Eleanor,” I muttered, the way I had been muttering it for a decade.
I looked down at the bill in my hand. Two hundred and twenty-seven dollars — for a woman who watches PBS and boils one kettle a day.
I followed the cable with my eyes.
Something in this house was drinking electricity like a thirsty horse, and I intended to find out what.
****
But one night, I couldn’t sleep at all, and even my pills weren’t helping.
The hum was faint — the kind of sound a person notices only at midnight, when everything else is quiet. I was sitting up in bed, staring at the ceiling, when I heard it again through the open window.
