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“Very handsome,” I agree.
“Muy guapo,” Adrian says to Teddy. “That’s your new word for the week. It means super-good-looking.”
“Muy guapo?”
“Bueno! That’s perfect!”
Across the yard, an old man walks around the side of the Maxwells’ house. He’s short, with wrinkled brown skin and close-cropped gray hair. He shouts Adrian’s name and it’s clear he’s not happy. “¿Qué demonos estás haciendo?”
Adrian waves to him, then shoots an amused look in our direction. “It’s El Jefe. I gotta go. But I’ll be back in two weeks, Teddy. Thank you for the picture. And good luck with your training, Mallory. I’m gonna watch for you on ESPN, all right?”
“Prisa!” the old man yells. “Ven aqui!”
“Okay, okay!” Adrian shouts back. He jumps onto the mower, starts it up, and crosses the yard in seconds. I can hear him apologizing in Spanish but the old man just yells over him, and they continue arguing as they disappear around the side of the house. I have a rudimentary grasp of Spanish from high school—I still remember el jefe means “the boss”—but they’re talking too fast for me to keep up.
Teddy seems concerned. “Is Adrian in trouble?”
“I hope not.” Then I look around the yard and marvel at the fact that—for all Adrian’s high-speed daredevil antics—the newly cut grass looks fantastic.
* * *
The Maxwells have a small outdoor shower on the back of their house so they can rinse off after swimming. It’s a tiny wooden stall about the size of an old-fashioned phone booth, and Caroline stocks it with absurdly expensive shampoos and body washes. Teddy goes first and I shout instructions through the door, reminding him to rinse his hair and shake out his bathing suit. When he’s finished, he shuffles outside with a beach towel wrapped around his body. “I’m a veggie burrito!”
“You’re adorable,” I tell him. “Go get dressed and I’ll meet you upstairs.”
I’m hanging my towel and getting ready to enter the stall when I hear a woman calling my name. “It’s Mallory, right? The new sitter?”
I turn and see the Maxwells’ next-door neighbor hurrying across the lawn, a short old woman with wide hips and a wobbly gait. Caroline has warned me that she’s very flaky and rarely leaves her house and yet here she is, dressed in an aquamarine muumuu and covered in jewelry: gold necklaces with crystal charms, big hoop earrings, jangly bracelets, and gemstone rings on her fingers and toes. “I’m Mitzi, honey, I live next door? And since you’re new to the neighborhood I want to give a bit of friendly advice: When those landscapers come around? You shouldn’t sit out by the pool. With everything on display.” She gestures at the full length of my torso. “This is what we used to call a provocation.”
She steps closer and I’m hit by the skunky smell of burnt rope. Either she needs a bath or she’s very high, or possibly both. “Excuse me?”
“You got a nice figure and I understand you want to show it off. And it’s a free country, I’m Libertarian, I say do what makes you feel good. But when these Mexicans come through, you need to show a little discretion. A little common sense. For your personal safety. Are you following?” I start to answer but she keeps talking: “This might sound racist, but it’s true. These men—they’ve already broken the law once, when they crossed the border. So if a criminal sees a pretty girl all alone in a backyard, what’s stopping him?”
“Are you serious?”
She grabs my wrist to underscore her remarks, and her hand is trembling. “Princess, I am serious as a heart attack. You need to cover your fanny.”
Above us, Teddy calls through the screen of his open bedroom window, “Mallory, can we have Popsicles?”
“After my shower,” I tell him. “Five minutes.”
Mitzi waves to Teddy and he ducks out of sight. “He’s a cute kid. Such a sweet face. Not a big fan of the parents, though. A bit uppity for my taste. Do you get that sense?”
“Well—”
“The day they moved in, I baked a lasagna. To be neighborly, okay? I bring it to their front door and do you know what she says to me? ‘I’m sorry but we can’t accept your gift.’ Because of the chopped meat!”
“Maybe—”
“I’m sorry, honey, but that is not how you handle that situation. You smile, you say thank you, you take it inside, and you throw it away. Don’t fling it back in my face. That’s rude. And the father’s even worse! He must drive you crazy.”
“Actually—”
“Ecch, you’re still a child. You can’t read people yet. I’m a warm person, very empathetic, I read auras for a living. You’ll see clients knocking on my door all day long but don’t worry, there’s nothing shady going on. I lost all interest after my hysterectomy.” She winks at me. “But how do you like the guest cottage? Do you ever get nervous? Sleeping out there all alone?”
“Why should I be nervous?”
“Because of the history.”
