As Harriett’s attention migrated slowly to the man, the smile remained on her face. “Do I know you?” she asked, her head cocked, like a cat contemplating a roach.
Brendon offered a hand, which Harriett regarded with amusement but didn’t deign to touch. “My name is Brendon Baker.” He let his hand drop. “I’m president of the Mattauk Homeowners Association.”
“Ah,” Harriett replied, as if that were enough and she didn’t care to know any more. “So how have you been, Celeste? You certainly look well.”
Celeste blushed. It felt like it had been ages, she realized, since anyone had given her their full attention. “I am well. And you?”
“I’ve been busy.” Harriett took a bite of her apple and chewed leisurely before continuing. “Very busy, in fact. I’ve been catching up on my reading. There are so many fascinating subjects I never had time to explore. Botany, primarily, but also—”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Osborne—” Brendon cut in.
“Ms.,” Harriett corrected him, without glancing in his direction.
“Of course. Ms. Osborne. We’re here to talk to you about the state of your property. I’m afraid we’ve had multiple complaints. I’m aware you’ve suffered some setbacks lately, but you will need to resume maintenance of your house and lawn or we will be forced to impose fines.”
Mortified, Celeste turned her gaze to the porch, where a colony of black ants was following a twisting trail up a railing. Then she heard Harriett laugh, and looked up to see that the amusement appeared genuine.
“How about that? We’ve only just met, and yet you know so much about me.” Harriett leaned lazily against the doorframe. “How do you do it, Mr. Baker? Are you psychic? Have you hacked into my accounts? Or are you just one of those men who thinks he’s an expert on women?”
Celeste had made other house calls with Brendon. She’d heard terrified owners plead with or praise him. Harriett was the first to belittle him. She must have known Brendon had the power to make her life miserable, but she wasn’t going to kneel down before him.
“I apologize if my assumptions were incorrect,” Brendon said flatly, his true feelings revealed by the flush creeping up past his shirt collar. “Regardless of your financial situation, something must be done about the state of your lawn.”
“No.” She said it firmly, without anger or urgency.
“No?” Brendon repeated, as if he weren’t familiar with the word.
Harriett swept an arm toward the horizon. “This is the way it wants to be,” she replied.
“Less than a year ago, this property was the pride of Mattauk.” Brendon tried trading vinegar for honey. “Your gardeners were here twice a week.”
“Poisoning the earth with their weed killers and pesticides. All so my former husband could feel like he’d conquered nature. Chase was so happy when you took over the HOA, Mr. Baker. He used to phone in anonymous complaints several times a week. You two would love each other. He’s an uptight little prick as well. No doubt you’re both compensating for the same deficiency.”
For a moment, it didn’t sound like an insult. It simply seemed like a statement of fact. Then Harriett let her eyes roll down to Brendon’s crotch, where they lingered for a moment before returning to his reddening face.
Brendon stiffened his spine and puffed out his chest as though trying to appear larger. “You have a legal obligation to maintain this property and abide by the community’s landscaping regulations.”
“You’re wrong, Mr. Baker.” Harriett studied her apple for a spot to bite. “My house predates the homeowners association. My ex-husband voluntarily signed the agreement when the property was in his name. Now the house belongs solely to me, and I never signed anything.”
“But you’re still bound by—”
Harriett sighed and shook her head as if he were wasting her time. “No,” she said. “I checked. For the first time in my life, I’m not bound by anything.”
“We’ll see,” Brendon fumed. “Our lawyers will be in touch. Come along, Celeste.”
Harriett sank her teeth into the apple and watched with amusement as Brendon stomped down the drive.
“‘Come along, Celeste’?” she repeated as she chewed. “Why would someone like you take orders from someone like that?” Harriett made it sound like one of the great mysteries of the universe.
“I honestly don’t know,” Celeste admitted. Brendon got in the car, slammed the door, and turned on the engine. “I should probably go. I rode here with him.”
“I think you’d be much happier if you stayed here with me.” Harriett reached out and slid a hand down the slope from Celeste’s shoulder to her elbow. She let it linger there for a moment, her fingers cupping the joint and her thumb pressed against the throbbing vein at the arm’s crease.
Though the offer seemed clear enough, Celeste was sure she’d misheard. “But you know my husband—”
Harriett cocked her head again and grinned. “What does any of this have to do with him?”
Celeste was stunned to find herself unable to answer. Surely, she thought, it had something to do with Andrew. After all, she’d married for love, and that love hadn’t died. She remained fond of her husband. She’d just grown to see romance for what it was—a sappy-sweet fantasy she’d entertained in her youth, like fairies or the Easter Bunny. Though she felt nostalgia for those early days, her marriage had become a financial arrangement. She remained devoted to keeping up her side of the deal. She would ensure that the children were happy and healthy. Their home would continue to run efficiently. For several wonderful years, the agreement had included exclusive access to each other’s bodies. But Celeste’s had come to feel like her own once again.
That’s why she wasn’t hurt by Andrew’s affair, she realized. That’s why she’d never asked her husband who was he seeing after work—or who accompanied him on all his business trips. For a while, she’d wondered if she was afraid to have those questions answered. Now Celeste knew the truth—as long as Andrew upheld his end of the bargain, she just didn’t care. Andrew was her business partner. What Harriett was offering was something quite different.
“I quit the homeowners association,” Celeste informed her husband later that night.
“Oh?” he replied, without looking up from his phone. Now that his salary was in the high six figures, her decisions were of little consequence. “Good for you, darling.”
“I spent some time with Harriett Osborne today.”
That got his attention. “With Harriett? Poor thing. How’s she doing?”
“Well,” Celeste said, “I think she and I are going to hang out more often.”
“Doing what?” His lack of imagination had always amused her.
“Lady things,” Celeste replied with a smile.