I moved to a peaceful suburb to start over, but when I cut into my neighbor’s welcome pie and found a hidden note inside, I knew the past I’d been running from had finally caught up with me.
When the movers finally drove off and the street fell silent, I stood at the top of the driveway, breathing in the stillness. Fifty-eight. Divorced.
Starting over. Again.
This time, I promised myself not to repeat old mistakes. A new chapter had officially begun.
I glanced at the narrow parking strip between my house and the one next door.
The realtor had said it was mine. So I maneuvered my car forward, straightened the wheels, and parked right there.
“Hello there!” a cheerful voice called out.
I turned. A woman in lemon-yellow flats was leaning casually against the fence, holding a watering can.
She looked like someone who never left the house without lip gloss.
“New neighbor?” she asked, smiling.
“Guilty,” I said. “Alicia.”
“Jocelyn,” she replied, setting the watering can down and walking closer. “Welcome to the neighborhood.
You’ll love it here.”
“I hope so. I need a fresh start.”
“Well, you’ve picked the perfect place. We have block brunches on Saturdays, and everyone helps everyone.
It’s very… harmonious.”
I smiled politely, unsure how harmonious I wanted my life to be. Jocelyn’s gaze drifted past me, straight to my car.
“Yes. It’s convenient.
Close to the door.”
“Of course. It’s just… well, I usually park there. Been doing it for years.”
“I was told it came with my property.”
“I’ve always parked there — it’s just easier with groceries and all.”
“But you already have a driveway,” I said calmly.
“I do.
But the sun hits this one differently. Keeps the leather from cracking.”
“Then maybe it’s time to invest in better leather.”
There was a tiny pause, and then Jocelyn laughed. “You’re funny.
I like that. Of course, it’s your spot. Anyway, I’ll drop by tomorrow with a little housewarming gift.
It’s a thing we do here.”
Jocelyn gave a small wave and turned toward her garden. I watched her walk away, the smile never leaving her face until she was out of sight. My own faded as soon as she was gone.
I glanced at my car, perfectly parked where it was supposed to be, and felt an old, familiar instinct stir.
