“This neighborhood is smaller than it looks, Claire,” he said.
The kitchen was still mostly empty, the three-dollar paper plates stacked on the counter next to a chipped blue coffee mug. I was washing the tomatoes Arthur had brought when the back door screen clicked.
Natalie walked in without knocking, holding a tall vase made of heavy, green glass. Her gold necklace caught the kitchen light as she moved, the links clicking together.
“I brought this for the dining table,” Natalie said, setting it on the laminate counter near the sink. “It’s real crystal. It might make this place look a little warmer.”
“The house is fine, Natalie,” I said, drying my hands on a paper towel.
She looked around the room, her eyes lingering on the exposed water pipe under the sink and the mismatched chairs. She played with the gold chain around her neck, sliding the clasp back and forth.
“Grant says you could have gotten a much better rate if you had let his firm handle the financing,” she said.
“I prefer to use my own bank,” I said.
“Grant is just trying to help,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “He knows everyone in the county. In fact, he is closing on the empty lot right behind your back fence next week.”
I stopped folding the paper towel. “The wooded parcel?”
“He wants to put in three townhomes,” Natalie said. “It will improve the view, Claire. You won’t have to look at those old pine trees anymore.”
“The property line is very close to my back porch, Natalie.”
“Well, the surveyors will be out here soon enough,” she said, looking at her watch. “Travis is helping with the layout. He has some ideas about where the access road should go.”
She moved toward the door, her leather sandals clicking on the linoleum.
“You should really paint these cabinets,” she said. “The white is very dingy.”
She left before I could answer, the screen door swinging shut behind her with a light tap.
