However, I still haven’t called any tree specialists like I told him I would do. I wonder if it’s necessary. Ford seems to think so, and he really seems to care about those trees. I care, too—it’s just not something I’ve ever had to think about before.
“Ugh, fine, I’ll call a tree company,” I mutter, making sure my sweatshirt is on correctly. My vibrator can wait. And if I’m really lucky, Nove will rescue Seth’s parents today, and I can celebrate with Seth and Damiano tonight.
The receptionist at the company tells me they have a spot available for a consultation this afternoon. Two hours later, a guy in a big pick-up buzzes to be let in at the gate.
I meet him on the porch. He’s a handsome guy with a protruding belly and thick arms and legs. We shake hands.
“I’m Jerry Kent, with Kent Arborists.” He tilts his head toward the side of my house, where most of the citrus trees are located. “Are those the trees you want me to look at?”
“Yes, but there are more trees at the back of the property. Can I give you a tour?”
He grins, his blue eyes twinkling. “That’s what I’m here for, ma’am.”
Ma’am? That’s a first. But it seems to be part of his charm, as he’s unfailingly polite while trailing me around the yard with his clipboard. He diagrams the positions of the trees and makes notes about each of them.
“These orange trees here, and the grapefruit, are all in excellent health.” He scratches his chin with his pen. “I’m not sure you need our help—you’re doing great.”
“Oh, it isn’t me. My cousin is the last guy who lived here. He came by a few days ago to check the trees. But I told him I’d have someone else handle it going forward.”
Jerry raises his bushy eyebrows. “Ma’am, these trees were treated just a day ago, maybe as early as this morning.”
“This morning?” My infuriating cousin. He’s still getting onto the property and messing around in the yard? “Are you absolutely certain about this?”
“Oh, yes.” He bends down and runs his finger through the earth. “Look here, at the fertilizer. It hasn’t had a chance to absorb into the soil yet. The morning dew alone should’ve caused it to absorb.”
I have words on the tip of my tongue, words for Ford’s ears alone. So I push down my irritation and nod at Jerry. “I can assure you, I’d much rather have your company working on my yard than my interfering cousin.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
He looks mildly uncomfortable, so I must not be doing a great job of hiding my feelings.
“Sorry,” I say. “I have an interfering relative. I’ll get it managed.”
“Oh, I understand interfering relatives.” He nods, his eyes wide. “My father-in-law keeps ‘borrowing’ my tools.”
Jerry fills out the details of his father-in-law saga while we tour the rest of the property. I share a little about what Ford has been up to, and he grimaces in commiseration.
We reach the rear of the east side of the property—the part that borders the Kavlans’ yard.
“This privacy border is thriving.” Jerry points to the thick brush. “The problem is, the trees are getting so large, they aren’t blocking as much view of your neighbors. I can recommend some bushes that might do well in the shade and provide extra privacy.”
It would keep Matthew Kavlan from seeing my house, and maybe get his wife off my back. I haven’t heard from her since she hissed at me to stay away from her husband, but I have seen Matthew around.
Speak of the devil. The back door opens at the Kavlan house, and Matthew steps outside.
I’m not sure whether to wave, or not. Charmaine freaked me the fuck out, telling me to stay away from him. Is waving at my neighbor considered too much encouragement?
This whole situation is messed up. I see Matthew, Matthew sees me. Neither of us acknowledges the other.
Jerry reclaims my attention with some ideas for pruning the cherry trees at the far back edge, so we head over there to get a closer look.
But when I walk Jerry back to the front of the house, I glance back at the Kavlans’ place.
Matthew is still standing on his back patio, facing my house. Motionless. Staring.
7
DAMIANO
