by Madeline Sharples

We’ve lived next door to Sherry and her husband, Dave, for over twenty years, and she was always a person I avoided. Bob sometimes played racquetball with Dave, but I have never wanted to get socially involved with her. Even at Bob’s hint that they were wine lovers like us, I wasn’t interested.

I had always found her too loud – I could hear her yelling at Dave, her stepson, or their son, Steve, through both our exterior walls; too nosy – she always seemed to poke her nose outside whenever I was out in the garden; too domineering, and much too pushy. I couldn’t believe her chutzpah when she appeared at our door with her oldest daughter and a six-pack of beer as soon as she found out we had two young, handsome, male houseguests – my nephew and his friend – staying with us for…