Chapter 3

The man in the car squinted hard in an effort to see her face clearly, but it seemed the more he tried, the most his eyes were determined to elude his vision. His eyes had not stopped twitching since he arrived in his courtyard and met this strange woman discussing with his wife. And now, a bad feeling had clung stubbornly to his guts.

He constantly caught his daughter seated beside him in the car stealing glances at him and yet choosing to continue to stay mute as if she was taunting him openly with her silence.

As soon as the car came to a stop before the terrace of his new house, Mr. Sanchez Miller hurriedly jumped out from it and began to approach his wife, a stern look on his face.

The ever-smiling Corinne put on a warm smile on her lips, eager to give her husband the most loving welcome to their house. But on taking a closer look at his face, her countenance began to shift as she tried to deduce what had happened to him.

Mr. Miller was in her face in a couple of seconds.

He looked over his shoulders cautiously and turned back to face his wife. “Who was that?” he asked, a sharp look in his eyes.

“Who was who?” Corinne asked, feigning ignorance.

“The woman who just left our house. The one you were conversing with.”

“Oh,” Corinne said, a small smile crossing her lips. “Just our neighbor across the street. Ashley Baker lives with her husband and kids in that house,” she said, pointing the finger at it.

She quickly retrieved her hand as a thought struck her mind. There was no telling who was watching her and from where. It would be creepy for anyone to find her pointing fingers at the Bakers’ house.

Mr. Miller looked away from his wife, straining his neck to see the Bakers’ house more clearly. Like his wife, he was a very tall man. Perhaps even taller than most men. He was not particularly very handsome, but he had the build most athletes would kill for.

He had dark unruly hair and soft brown eyes, and when he made an attempt to smile, there was always the ominous look behind his smiles which seemed to always make everyone feel uneasy about it.

His protruding Adam’s apple made a rapid movement as he gulped hard and returned his stare to his wife.

“Corinne,” he called sharply. “What were you discussing with her?”

He watched her cringe for a moment as a worried frown crossed her face.

“No-nothing serious.”

A sterner look on his face forced her to say more.

“Well, she came to welcome us into the neighborhood. I don’t think she meant any harm. In fact, she seemed really nice.”

Mr. Miller was absorbing every word, his fist becoming more clenched by the second.

Just then, a sleepy-eyed Zoey brushed past them, mumbling some words to herself. Mrs. Miller looked at her with concern.

“Honey, are you okay?”

She turned to look at her, and for the first time, Corinne noticed how spent her daughter was. The dark circles around her eyes looked terrifying.

“I am not okay, mom! I need some homemade food and at least one year of sleep. Maybe that is something you guys should be concerned about for a moment instead of your constant arguments!” Her tone was biting.

“Watch your mouth, girl,” Mr. Miller shot back at her. “Go on inside. Your mother and I are talking.”

Zoey made a face that neither of her parents appreciated but were too occupied with their thoughts to address.

Corinne heaved a sigh as Zoey moved into the house, shutting the door behind her. A moment later, the door was opened again by one of the men with the moving van.

“Don’t make it a big deal,” Corinne said to her husband. “Zoey’s just a teenager.”

Mr. Miller began to say something but stopped midway as if he had just remembered what this was about.

“Corinne, for crying out loud, we went over this a million times. Can you at least try to keep to yourself?” He rubbed his hand over his forehead and continued. “These neighbors are bad news. And we don’t want to deal with all their drama. Trust me.”

Corinne was not sure how to respond. She’d been married to her husband for over twenty years, and if there was one thing she had come to fear, it was his temper. Whenever his eyes flashed like fiery darts like it was doing now, somebody was bound to get hurt.

“I don’t know,” she said dismissively. “All I know is that blending in with the rest of our neighbors will do us a lot of good.”

“Says who?” Her husband challenged, his voice like boiling lava. “Corinne, I will not allow you to screw up things for us here. We came here to have a new beginning. I suggest we stick with that.”

Corinne crossed her arms across her chest. “Let’s not argue, Sanchez. We just arrived.”

She twirled around at once and began to howl commands at the men with the moving van. In the few seconds she’d excused herself to talk with her husband, the boxes had doubled. Corinne stood at the center of the wide room and weighed the amount of work she would have to do with her eyes.

The roofing seemed to still be in good condition, but the plumbing – not so much. She would have to hire a plumber to take a look at that. That was her husband’s duty, of course, but she was too scared to even begin to discuss the topic with him.

Instinctively, she walked over to one of the boxes lying carelessly on the ground and kicked it with her foot. The box moved about an inch away. Curious to know what was inside it, Corinne bent lower and opened the box. It contained a few old mails and miscellaneous notes, which she was not prepared to sort just yet.

She wiped a hand over her forehead and rose to her feet. She could feel a small migraine coming, a consequence of all the stress she’d been through during the past couple of hours.

As she rose to her feet, she bumped directly into one of the men with the moving van. He had an apologetic look on his face.

“I… I’m so sorry, ma’am,” he stammered. “I just came to have a word with you.”

Corinne opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by the approaching footsteps of her husband.

“What is it?” Mr. Miller asked, looking directly at the man’s name tag on his shirt. “Kevin, is it? You can talk to me.”

A shy look washed over the man’s face, and instantly, Corinne knew what this was about.

“Here,” she said, handing the man a generous tip of $30. “I’ll send your paycheck to the company.”

“Thank you,” the man said gratefully and walked away.

Once again, Corinne was left alone with her husband. She could smell trouble brewing. A few awkward seconds passed without them saying a word to each other. Then, Mr. Miller moved to break the silence.

“Corinne,” he called softly. And for a moment, Corinne felt her heart summersault. “I… I don’t enjoy fighting with you. And I know it’s unhealthy for our daughter.”

“Tell me about it,” Corinne said sarcastically.

“I don’t want us to fight anymore. I want us to start afresh and be a better example of a loving couple to our daughter,” he paused as if to give her time to process what he’d just said.

Then, he continued. “It would feel so much easier to do this if you heed every word I say.”

“Even when it is to our detriment?” Corinne demanded. “It’s a small town, Sanchez. You should have done your research before you brought us here. We have to socialize with others, especially our neighbors. Secluding ourselves from them only makes us look all the more suspicious.”

She saw the look on her husband’s face and stopped, then she gave a small shrug and continued. “And to be fair, Ashley seems like a very nice woman. I can’t say the same about her husband yet.”

“Ashley?” Her husband repeated, knitting his brows.

“That’s her name. The woman you saw me talking to. Our neighbor.”

Mr. Miller thought for a moment. If socializing with their neighbors meant exchanging a few pleasant smiles and small talk whenever they met at the driveway, then maybe he could try to get used to it.

“Huh!” he said finally. “We still need to be careful. How much does she know about us?”

He did not miss the scowl on Corinne’s face before she responded.

“The basics. I mean, she told me about her family. I had to tell her about mine, too,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Her husband was looking at her from the corner of his eyes. “And was that all you discussed?”

“Yes!”

“Good,” he said after a moment’s pause. He dipped his hands into his pockets and looked over his shoulders as if he suspected that someone was listening to their conversation.

Satisfied that they were truly alone, he added, “We should keep it that way.”

Corinne turned to leave. Mr. Miller watched her back, thinking about all the other details she had discussed with their new neighbor, which she had refused to let him in on. When Corinne suddenly stopped and turned back to look at him, he was taken by surprise.

“What?” he asked, struggling to maintain his composure.

Corinne had an uneasy look on her face. “I… I forgot to tell you something,” she said carefully.

Mr. Miller’s eyes began to widen. “What’s that?”

“I invited our neighbors to dinner at our house tomorrow evening. It’s going to be brief, I promise.”

Mr. Miller’s jaw dropped. The veins on his brow began to show. He did not see himself being diplomatic about the decision he was about to make.

He began to approach Corinne, his face hardening with each step. He stopped directly before her and said with a tone of finality.

“You have to cancel it, Corinne. I don’t care how you go about it.”