Three months ago, a moving truck pulled up next door, and out stepped trouble in stilettos. Her name was Amber. She was 25, blonde, and fresh off a divorce that left her with a house she didn’t pay for and an attitude that screamed, “your husband’s next.”
The whole street knew her story: she’d married 73-year-old lonely Mr. Patterson, then walked away with half his assets when he couldn’t keep up with her “needs.”
A stylish young woman in black shorts, black top, and heels | Source: Freepik
I watched her through my kitchen window, directing movers in shorts that belonged in a gym, not on a front lawn at eight in the morning.
“Andy, come look at our new neighbor!” I called my husband.
He wandered over, coffee mug in hand, and nearly choked. “Well, she’s… young.”
“She’s trouble.” I crossed my arms. “Mark my words.”
Andy chuckled and kissed my cheek. “Debbie, not everyone’s out to get us. Maybe she just wants to fit in.”
“Oh, she wants to fit in alright… right between you and our marriage vows.”
“Deb..?!”
“Just kidding!”
A couple smiling while facing each other | Source: Freepik
Being the good neighbor I was raised to be, I baked blueberry muffins and marched over to Amber’s house the next morning. She answered the door in a silk robe that barely covered what God gave her.
“Oh my gosh, how sweet!” She clutched the muffin basket like it was made of gold. “You must be Debbie! Andy told me all about you.”
My smile tightened. “Oh, did he? When exactly did you two have time to chat?”
“Yesterday evening when I was getting my mail. He was watering your roses.” She leaned against the doorframe. “Such a gentleman. You’re so lucky to have a man who takes care of things.”
The way she said “things” made my skin crawl.
A woman in a white robe standing at the doorway | Source: Pexels
“Yes, he takes very good care of what’s HIS!” I replied, emphasizing the last word.
She giggled like I’d told the world’s funniest joke. “Well, if you ever need anything… anything at all… I’m right here!”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Within a week, Amber’s “innocent” behavior escalated faster than a teenager’s texting bill. Every morning, she’d appear at her fence just as Andy left for work, waving like she was flagging down a rescue helicopter.
“Morning, Andy! Love that shirt on you!”
“Your lawn looks amazing! You must work out!”
“Could you help me with this heavy box sometime? I’m just so weak!”
I watched this circus from behind my curtains, steam practically shooting from my ears.
A woman standing by the curtains | Source: Pexels
Thursday morning, I’d had enough. I marched outside just as Amber was doing her daily performance.
“Morning, Amber! Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
She straightened up, clearly annoyed by my interruption. “Oh, hi Debbie. Yes, it’s gorgeous.”
“Andy, honey, don’t forget we have dinner with my mother tonight,” I announced loudly, sliding my arm through his.
“Actually, I was hoping Andy might help me move my couch this weekend,” Amber interjected, batting her eyelashes. “It’s so heavy, and I don’t know any other strong men around here.”
“I’m sure the moving company has a number you can call,” I replied sweetly. “They specialize in heavy lifting.”
A middle-aged woman smiling | Source: Freepik
Andy cleared his throat. “I, uh, better get to work. See you later, honey.” He kissed my forehead and practically sprinted to his car.
Amber’s smile faltered as she watched him drive away. “You’re so protective of him.”
“Thirty years of marriage will do that to a woman!”
***
The following week brought new levels of audacity. Amber started jogging past our house every evening, always when Andy was working in the yard. Her running outfits left nothing to the imagination, and her “accidental” stops for water breaks were choreographed like a Broadway show.
“This heat is just killing me!” she panted, fanning herself dramatically. “Andy, you wouldn’t happen to have a cold bottle of water, would you?”
Andy, bless his oblivious heart, handed her his own water bottle. “Here, take mine.”
She pressed it to her chest like he’d given her diamonds. “You’re such a lifesaver. Literally!”
A woman drinking water | Source: Unsplash
I appeared on the porch with a garden hose. “Amber, honey, if you’re that hot, I’d be happy to cool you down!”
She jumped back like I was holding a snake. “Oh, that’s okay! I should get back to my run.”
Two weeks later, Amber played her ace card. It was Friday night, and Andy and I were settling in to watch a movie when someone pounded on our door like the house was on fire.
Andy jumped up. “Who could that be at this hour?”
Through the peephole, I saw Amber in a bathrobe, hair disheveled, looking panicked.
“Andy! Thank God you’re home!” she gasped when he opened the door. “I think a pipe burst in my bathroom! There’s water everywhere! I don’t know what to do! Could you be a sweetheart and help me?”
