4
The patio furniture arrived as Tean and Jem were finishing unloading the moving truck.
“I thought that wasn’t getting delivered until Wednesday,” Jem said.
“It wasn’t supposed to be,” Tean said, hopping down from the tailgate.
He made his way toward the delivery truck, where a man was already rolling up the door.
“Hi,” Tean said. “Sorry, “We’re not really set up yet, but if you give me a minute to put the dog inside, I’ll show you where everything goes—”
“Delivery to the front porch only,” the man said as a second man joined him. They climbed in the back of the truck and began sliding a massive box toward Tean. Tean had to move up onto the sidewalk.
“That’s not going to fit on the front porch,” Tean said.
One of the men grunted. They hauled the box out of the truck and dropped it on the grass the curb. A second box, slightly smaller, followed a moment later. And then a third.
They dragged the roll-up door down. And they got back in the truck.
“Excuse me,” Tean said. “Hey. Wait!”
Jem was wiping his face with his T-shirt when he joined Tean at the curb. The delivery truck rumbled to life, and a cloud of diesel exhaust wafted over them, and then the truck pulled away.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tean said.
“Well, you did tell them it wouldn’t fit on the porch,” Jem said.
“But I didn’t mean—” Tean took a breath. “Okay. Whatever. Let’s get the last of the boxes inside, and then we’ll figure out what to do about this stuff.”
They finished carrying the boxes into the house. Then Jem had to check on Scipio—He might need water!—which meant Tean went to inspect the patio furniture by himself.
And found a round-faced, middle-aged man pushing the boxes across the lawn.
“Hi,” Tean said. “Can I help you?”
The man gave a laugh and held up both hands. “Busted!” Before Tean could recover, the man seized his hand and pumped it. “Chuck Kinder.” He jerked a thumb at the house next door and said, “Nice to meet you, neighbor.”
“Tean Leon.” He tried to come up with the adult version of Why are you touching my stuff?
Before he could, Chuck said, “Just giving you a helping hand. Figured you wanted all that stuff on your property. So there wasn’t any confusion, you know?
” What kind of confusion there could be about massive boxes of patio furniture, Tean didn’t know, but he didn’t have a chance to say anything because Chuck continued, “Property line runs—” He drew an invisible line with one hand between their homes, and he made a popping noise with his mouth.
“—right where you’ve got that fence. And boy, you got lucky, because the last owner was a real handful, and he didn’t even get a survey done before he put that fence in.
Yep, you got real lucky that the survey didn’t show the fence crossing the property line, because that would have been a mess. ”
“Uh, right,” Tean said. “Well, we’re going to move this stuff into the backyard, so it won’t be out here long.”
“No rush, no rush. I just wanted to make sure it was on your side of the line.”
“Right.”
“No big deal,” Chuck said. “It happens to the best of us.”
This time, Tean didn’t say anything.
In what Tean supposed was meant to be a comical imitation of a tough guy, Chuck added, “But don’t do it again!” And then he burst out laughing.
Tean wasn’t sure what he said to extricate himself, but he ended up back inside the house. Jem and Scipio were lying on the floor in the kitchen. Both of them were panting.
“You won’t believe what just happened,” Tean said, and told Jem.
“Scipio found two snails,” Jem said. “He didn’t even try to eat them or anything. He just showed me with his nose.”
“Did you hear me?”
“Did you hear me? Two snails! That’s got to be, like, some kind of record.”
Tean took a deep breath. Then he explained.
“He sounds like a weirdo,” Jem said, fanning himself with his shirt. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Too late,” Tean said. “I am worried about it.”
Jem groaned.
“Will you help me move these boxes into the back before this guy decides to call the police or something?”
Jem muttered something.
“What was that?” Tean asked.
“Okay,” Jem said. “We’ll move the boxes.”
When they stepped outside, a tiny woman with frizzy blond hair was huffing and puffing as she shifted a massive terracotta planter into place on the exact spot where Chuck Kinder had been standing: the property line.
“Oh, hi!” She gave a big wave. “Don’t mind me!”
“What in the world?” Tean said under his breath.
Jem, not so quietly, said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
From his porch, Chuck leaned out and called, “Look at that! No misunderstandings now!”
“What’s going on?” Tean asked. “I bet those boxes were three inches across the property line. For less than ten minutes.”
“Babe,” Jem said, “it’s not about the boxes. It’s not even about the property line.”
“That’s what he said. The boxes—”
“I know,” Jem said. “Hang tight.”
He went back inside, and his voice carried faintly, as though he were talking to someone on the phone. A few minutes later, he emerged again, a suspiciously self-satisfied smirk lurking behind the beard.
“What did you do?” Tean asked.
“Nothing.” And when Tean didn’t relent, Jem laughed and raised both hands. “I swear to God. Come on, let’s get this stuff in the back.”
Maybe Jem could sense that Tean’s patience had run thin, because once they’d carried the boxes to the back, he was more than willing to help set up the patio furniture right then. Jem even broke down the boxes and lugged them to the recycling.
Which was when he disappeared.
Tean gave him a couple of minutes. Then he went in search of him, in case this was one of Jem’s “special breaks,” when he was using his prescribed medical substance for his nausea or his dizziness or his glaucoma. (Whatever the prescription said that day.)
When Tean got to the front of the house, he froze.
Jem stood on the street next to Toro. Tean had only met Jem’s friend once, and the man hadn’t changed: built big, with gray stubble and a stained blue work shirt. Both Toro and Jem were wearing dark sunglasses, and Jem was saying something as he pointed at the terracotta planter.
Next door, Chuck and Mrs. Property Line were the color of old socks.
Toro made loud, affirmative noises to whatever Jem was saying. And then he and Jem bumped fists. “I’ll take care of it tonight.”
And then he got in his truck and did a slow—slow—drive by of the Kinder house.
As soon as the truck cleared the block, Mrs. Property Line sprinted toward the planter and started scooting it toward the house, while Chuck stage-whispered from the porch, “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!”
“Jeremiah,” Tean said when Jem joined him on the porch.
“What?” And without missing a beat, “It was Toro’s idea!”
“You can’t—” But Tean had to stop. “But it’s wrong to—” He had to stop again. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“That’s okay, babe,” Jem said. “Take your time. It’ll come to you.” Then, he offered a big wave to the neighbors and, grinning to himself, added, “Problem solved.”