Chapter Three
Maci
I've always gotten up early. It’s not that I like mornings, but they just seem more logical to me.
Before eight, everyone sticks to their routines.
They leave for work at the same time, walk the same paths, use the same mugs, and say hello to the same neighbors.
If you pay attention, you can spot their habits before you even know their names.
By my third morning in Lemon Grove Estates, I was already noticing the routines.
I sat on the front porch in a rocking chair, holding a warm cup of coffee. The neighborhood was just beginning to wake up.
At exactly 6:18, the landscaping crew drove through the gates in three identical black trucks.
At 6:25, the sprinklers came on as usual, spraying water over the bright green lawns.
At 6:31, Tasha’s front door opened.
"Mason! Miles! If I have to tell y'all one more time to put your shoes on, y'all are walking to school barefoot!"
"I can't find my backpack!"
"You found your Nintendo, didn't you?"
"Yeah."
"Then you can find your backpack." I laughed and took another sip of coffee.
Less than thirty seconds later, the twins ran out of the house. One of them carried a shoe instead of wearing it. Tasha saw me watching and threw her hands up.
"They're trying to humble me before seven in the morning."
"I believe it."
"They've been doing it for six years." She pointed across the street.
"Don't have kids."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"I'm serious."
The boys reached the sidewalk just as the bus rounded the corner.
"See?" Tasha said proudly. "Late... but never too late."
She kissed both boys on the forehead and watched them get on the bus. Once the bus left, she let out a big sigh.
"Now I can finally drink my coffee while it's still hot."
"You deserve two cups."
"I deserve a vacation."
She laughed, waved, and went back inside. I smiled. It was easy to like her.
A few minutes later, I heard another garage door open. Jade stepped out, looking put-together, with a travel mug in one hand and her laptop bag in the other. She noticed me immediately.
"You've officially become a porch person."
"I enjoy my mornings."
"So do I, when I’m not about to go bill these folks by the hour." She glanced at her watch.
"Have a good day."
"You too."
She got into her Mercedes and drove away right as my phone hit 6:45.
It was just another routine, another small piece of the neighborhood. Then I noticed some movement across the street.
Camille.
She stepped onto her porch with a metal watering can, even though the sprinklers were already running in her flowerbeds.
She moved slowly from one planter to the next, talking quietly to each flower as she watered them.
I couldn’t hear what she was saying. She smiled to herself, as if she was still talking to someone only she could hear. When she saw me, she waved.
"Good morning!"
"Morning."
"Settling in alright?"
"I think we're finally getting there."
"I'm glad." She smiled, then returned to her flowers.
I kept watching her, even though I didn’t really have a reason. She wasn’t doing anything special. Actually, it was the opposite. She just looked content. Some people spend years looking for that kind of peace. I wondered what it must feel like.
The front door opened behind me.
"There you are."
I turned around and saw Zaire with a paper bag and a drink carrier.
"You left this morning without telling me."
"You were sleeping, and I went for a run super early. It was still dark out."
"So, you punished me by making me miss sunrise?"
"I figured you deserved the extra sleep."
He gave me a warm breakfast sandwich, then sat down in the rocking chair next to me.
"I stopped by that little café outside the gates."
"The one with the blue awning?"
"You've already noticed it?"
"I notice everything." He looked sideways at me.
"That I know."
He knew me well enough to understand that noticing things was more than a habit for me. It was part of who I was.
We ate quietly as the neighborhood carried on around us. A jogger passed with two golden retrievers.
Down the street, someone hurried to roll their trash bins into the garage before anyone saw them from the road.
Right then, my phone buzzed.
Lemon Ladies
Nia: Good morning, beautiful people!
Tasha: Mine just left for school. Somebody pray for them teachers.
A picture popped up a moment later. Mason stood next to a backpack hanging upside down, grinning with pride. I laughed so hard, coffee nearly came out of my nose.
"What?" Zaire asked.
I passed him my phone, and he smiled.
"They've adopted you already."
I looked across the street at the women starting their day. Three days ago, they were strangers. Now they felt like neighbors, maybe even the start of friends.
I sipped my coffee and leaned back into the rocking chair. My phone buzzed again.
Lemon Ladies
Nia: Who's free for a walk this evening?
Simone: Depends. Is it a real walk or one of your "walks" where we end up at somebody's house eating?
Nia: Mind your business.
Tasha: lmaooo
Jade: I'll be home around six.
I smiled and tucked my phone into my robe pocket.
"What now?" Zaire asked.
"They're planning another get-together."
"So soon?"
"I think they genuinely enjoy being around each other."
He glanced out at the neighborhood and nodded.
"You'd be surprised how rare that is."
"I know, right?"
We finished breakfast. He stood up and stretched.
"I need to head into the office for a couple of hours."
"Already?"
"I've got two closings today. The money doesn’t stop, baby." He leaned down and kissed me on the top of my head.
"Think you'll survive without me?"
"I'll do my best."
"I left the garage remote on the kitchen counter."
"I saw it."
"And your new house keys are hanging beside the pantry."
"I saw those too." He grinned. He never teased me for noticing everything. He just accepted it, the same way he accepted that I needed every downstairs door locked twice before bed, or that I checked the stove before leaving, even if I hadn’t used it.
Some people might have called it overthinking. Zaire just called it Maci.
"I'll be home before dinner," he said.
"I'll hold you to it."
"You always do."
I watched him back his SUV out of the driveway and disappear around the curve of the cul-de-sac.
I went back inside. Bernice was right. Every cabinet was perfectly organized. Glasses were by the fridge, coffee mugs waited next to the espresso machine, and the spices stood in matching glass jars with neat white labels. The whole place looked like something from Pinterest.
I reached for a bowl without thinking, but my hand stopped halfway. I frowned, wondering why I reached there. I’d never put bowls in that cabinet. That was something Bernice always did. I stood there for a moment and quietly laughed at myself.
"You're officially overthinking cabinets."
My voice echoed softly in the kitchen. I grabbed the bowl, washed a few strawberries, and took them to the island. After breakfast, I decided to finish the last room Bernice hadn’t organized yet.
My office.
Boxes labeled BOOKS, FILES, and PERSONAL sat against one wall. I opened the smallest one first. Inside were journals, pens, sticky notes, and my favorite candle.
A framed quote that read:
She remembered who she was and the game changed.
I smiled.
"I forgot about you."
I set the frame on a floating shelf. The next box held a stack of photographs. I took my time looking through them. One picture stood out.
Zaire and I stood barefoot on the beach, laughing together. My head leaned on his shoulder, with the ocean stretching out behind us.
I couldn’t remember the joke he told, only how happy we looked. I placed the photo on my desk. At the bottom of the box was a small yellow recipe tin decorated with tiny painted lemons.
My grandmother gave it to me years ago. Inside, I found handwritten recipe cards, stained with vanilla and butter from all the baking over the years. I touched the top card.
Lemon Pound Cake
I smiled despite my pain.
"My favorite."
The recipe was simple, with no secret ingredients or complicated steps. The card’s edges had softened from years of use.
I put the tin in a desk drawer because some things deserve a permanent place.
Someone knocked at the front door. I glanced at the clock. It was ten-thirty.
I walked through the foyer and opened the door.
Simone stood on the porch wearing distressed jeans, a white tank top, and big sunglasses. She carried a camera on one shoulder and balanced two iced coffees in one hand.
"I brought caffeine."
I laughed.
"You didn’t have to do that."
"I know." She handed me a cup anyway. "But I wanted to."
She looked over my shoulder.
"Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all."
"Good."
She smiled.
"I figured since everyone else already claimed you, I’d steal an hour with you before Nia plans another event."
I stepped aside.
"Come in."
She walked in and glanced around the house as she entered.
"It’s beautiful."
"It finally feels like ours."
"It does."
She gave me a warm smile and turned toward me.
"So..."
She took a sip of her coffee.
"I came for two reasons."
"What are they?"
"First," she said, pointing at the cup in my hands. "Coffee."
"And the second?"
"I want to hear your story, the real one."
I wrapped both hands around the cold cup.
For a moment, I wasn't sure how much of myself I was ready to share.
"Come on, let's go to my office."
Simone smiled, and we walked back into my office. She let her fingers glide over the floating shelves, pausing at the framed nursing pin next to one of my favorite books.
"You’re a nurse?" I smiled faintly.
"I was. In the emergency room."
"Was?"
I glanced down at my coffee.
"Yeah."
"You don't miss it?"
I answered before I could soften my response.
"No."
The word lingered between us longer than I meant. I cleared my throat.
"I loved taking care of people."
That part was true.
"I just couldn't handle the emergency room anymore."
Simone nodded softly and waited without pressing me.
"Some shifts," I said quietly, "stay with you even after you leave."
I ran my fingers around the rim of my coffee cup.
"And eventually, you realize they never really go away."
We sat in silence for a moment.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. I gave her a small smile.
"Me too."
She didn’t ask what was wrong. She didn’t ask if I’d lost a patient or if someone I cared about had come through those automatic doors. She just reached over and squeezed my hand.
"I'm glad you're here."
I looked around my office.
"So am I."
"So, what do you do now?" Simone asked.
"I'm taking some time for myself."
She smiled.
"I love that."
"I don't know what comes next."
"You don't have to."
She leaned against the wall.
"Everybody who moves here comes looking for something, a slower life, a fresh start, a better place to raise kids, hell, a place to breathe."
She looked around my office.
"Maybe that's what this neighborhood gives people."
A fresh start. I thought about those words long after she said them. She didn’t know what was really happening. I hadn’t come here to start over. Luckily, she took my silence as me just being lost in thought.
"I have an idea," she said, suddenly brightening.
"Oh?"
"The girls and I usually walk in the neighborhood in the evenings. I know Nia mentioned it earlier in the chat. It's less about exercise and more about gossip."
"I figured."
"You should come."
"I'd like that."
"Perfect."
She stood up and smoothed her jeans, as if brushing away wrinkles I couldn’t see.
"I'll text the group."
Before she reached the front door, my phone chimed.
Lemon Ladies
Simone: Officially stealing Maci for girls' walk tonight at 6:30. Comfortable shoes required. Gossip optional.
Almost instantly
Nia: Gossip is NEVER optional.
Tasha: I'll bring cookies.
Jade: Then it's not a walk. It's dessert with cardio.
I laughed out loud.
"They're ridiculous."
"They're family."
Simone winked.
"And now so are you."
After she left, the house grew quiet. I returned to my office and paused at the big window that looked out over the street.
Sunlight reached across the cul-de-sac. Outside, a gardener trimmed the hedges with care.
Everything in Lemon Grove Estates seemed planned, beautiful, and safe.
I pressed my forehead to the cool glass.
It's odd how the prettiest places work so hard to make you think there's nothing beneath the surface.