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I sit.

She brings two mugs to the table and sits across from me.

“So, how’s my nephew?” she says.

“I’m great,” I say.

We drink our tea.

“How’s the neighbor?” I say, mostly because I know it’ll get her going.

Her face does the thing.

“Kim,” she says, “has taken it upon herself to leave a pamphlet about noise ordinances under my door. Because I had the television on at nine-thirty on a Thursday. Nine-thirty, Callum. It wasn’t even late.” She huffs.

“What were you watching?”

“That’s irrelevant. It’s my home, and I should be able to do what I like.” She picks up her mug. “A documentary. And then the news. And then I may have fallen asleep with it on. But that is between me and the television, and it is absolutely none of Kim’s business. Oh! And she’s been in her back yard flaunting herself all year, even in the goddamn winter she gets in that hot tub of hers.”

“You could just close the curtains.”

She gives me a very particular look. “I’m not closing the curtains because Kim has decided that eleven in the morning on a Tuesday is the appropriate time to take a soak wearing nothing. I have a nice view of the Rockies from this window. I shouldn’t have to choose between the Rockies and Kim’s nude body.”

I press my lips together.

“You know me,” Mabel says, with great dignity, “I have no issue with the female form. I celebrate it. I always have.” Her eyes twinkle, and I get a glimpse into the younger version of her. “What I take issue with is permission. I didn’t opt in to this display. I simply looked up from my tea, and there she was, and there was a great deal of her, and I have not fully recovered.”

I laugh at that, and Mabel’s mouth curves up.

I reach for another cookie and notice the envelope half-hidden beneath the fruit bowl.

BAYHILL PROPERTY MANAGEMENT.

The words are printed in the same joyless blue font as every invoice this building has ever sent me.

“What’s that?”

Mabel’s hand moves toward it a fraction too late.

“Nothing.”

“That is very obviously something.”

She sighs and slides it across the table.

I open it.

The board has commissioned an engineering review of the roof after evidence of water intrusion in the north wing. Owners are advised that repairs may be required pending the findings. Further information will follow.

I read it twice.

“What does ‘water intrusion’ mean?”

“Rain,” Mabel says with an eyeroll.

“And why didn’t you send me this?”

“Because it’s not important. It’s just a notice, not a bill or anything.”