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“I once had a client who rejected every woman I suggested. One was too quiet. Another was too loud. Some were too ambitious, and the rest weren’t ambitious enough.”

“And?”

“I found another good match and told him I wouldn’t introduce them. I said she had high standards, and I wasn’t sure he met them. The more I said no, the more determined he became. He called yesterday to tell me she’s the one.”

“I don’t see how that helps me.”

“Eric wants to be your neighbor, and you keep telling him he isn’t. That gives him something to prove.”

“He isn’t my neighbor.”

“That’s exactly my point. Give him what he wants.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Not the lane. The title. Call him your neighbor, then treat him like one.”

“Chloe, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right now, Eric gets to play the good neighbor on his terms. He sends gifts, everyone loves him, and he gets to feel clever. Stop arguing over the title and put him to work. Show him that being a good neighbor isn’t all wine, breakfast, and people thanking him. Sometimes it’s boring. Sometimes it’s difficult. Let him prove how badly he wants the job.”

A smile spreads across my face. “That’s actually brilliant.”

“I know.”

By the time we hang up, I’m no longer worried about what Eric might do next. I’m too busy planning what I’m going to make him do.

I open a new email and type his name.

Mr. Voss,

You were right. We should talk.

Meet me at the Hartwell tonight at seven.

I look forward to seeing you,

Regards,

Rachel Hartwell

Chief Executive Officer

The Hartwell Hotel

I grin as I hit send. Eric has spent days asking me to treat him like a neighbor. Tonight, he’s going to learn exactly what that title includes.

8

ERIC

I’ve been in a good mood all day. Rachel’s message arrived this morning, and although it was short and polite, I read it several times. I knew she would come around. Whether it was the wine, breakfast, or chocolates, I can’t be sure. I suspect June deserves some credit. She’s had days to study the photo.

At six, I change out of the suit I wore to work and put on a charcoal one cut closer across my shoulders. I choose a fresh white shirt but leave the tie behind. Rachel has already seen enough of me buttoned up for business, and tonight calls for something less formal.

I open the top two buttons, study myself in the mirror, and consider a third. I decide against it. There’s confidence, and then there’s desperation.

Two will do.