10

Penny Smith Hammel, like many heavyset women, moved with natural grace. When she had been young, despite her weight she had been one of the most popular girls in high school, with her pleasant features, infectious humor, and ability to make even the most awkward partner on the dance floor feel as if he were Fred Astaire.

A week after high school graduation she had married Bernie Hammel, who immediately started work as a long-distance truck driver. Content with where they grew up, Bernie and Penny had raised their three children in rural Middletown, New York, a little more than an hour drive from Manhattan and eons away in lifestyle.

Now fifty-nine years old, the children and grandchildren scattered from Chicago to California and with Bernie on the road so much, Penny had kept happily busy by being available as a babysitter. She loved all her charges, giving them the affection that she would have showered on her grandchildren if they had lived nearby.

The only real excitement in her life had occurred four years ago, when she and Bernie, together with Bernie’s ten fellow drivers, had won five million dollars in the lottery. They were one of the larger groups ever to win, and after taxes it netted them each about three hundred thousand dollars, which Bernie and Penny immediately put into a college fund for their grandchildren.

Part of the excitement was that they accepted an invitation to go into Manhattan and meet Alvirah and Willy Meehan and attend a meeting of their Lottery Winners’ Support Group. The Meehans had started the group to help people learn not to squander their winnings on crazy investments or by playing Santa Claus to newly discovered relatives.

Penny and Alvirah had immediately realized they were kindred souls and kept in touch regularly.

Penny’s best friend since childhood, Rebecca Schwartz, was a real estate agent who kept Penny informed about houses being bought or sold in her local neighborhood. On March 22, she and Penny had lunch in their favorite diner and Rebecca filled Penny in on the fact that the farmhouse on the dead-end road near her had finally been rented. The new tenant had moved in on March 1.

“Her name is Gloria Evans,” Rebecca confided. “About thirty. Really attractive. Natural blonde. You know I can always tell when it’s being helped along. Great shape, not like you and me. She just wanted a three-month rental, but I told her that Sy Owens wouldn’t dream of renting it for less than a year. She didn’t bat an eye, just said she was willing to pay for the year in advance because she’s finishing a book and needs to be by herself without interruptions.”

“Not a bad deal for Sy Owens,” Penny commented. “Then I guess he rented it furnished?”

Rebecca laughed. “Oh sure. What else would he do with all that tacky stuff? He wants to sell that place as is, lock, stock, and barrel. You’d think it was Buckingham Palace!”

As was her custom with any new neighbors, the next day Penny drove over to welcome Gloria Evans with a plate of her homemade blueberry muffins. When she knocked on the door, even though there was a car in the breezeway, it was a few minutes before the door was cautiously opened.

Penny had one foot poised to step inside, but Gloria Evans kept the door partially closed and Penny could tell right away that this woman wasn’t the least bit happy at the interruption. Penny was immediately apologetic. “Oh, Miss Evans, I know you’re writing a book, and I’d have called if I had your cell phone number. I just want to welcome you to town with some of my famous blueberry muffins, but please don’t think I’m one of those people who will be pestering you with phone calls or drop-in visits — “

“That’s nice of you. I did come here to be completely isolated,” Evans snapped, as with obvious reluctance she took the plate of muffins from Penny’s extended hand.

Refusing to be affronted, Penny continued. “Don’t worry about the plate. It’s a throwaway. I wrote my phone number for you on a Post-it I stuck on the bottom, just in case you should ever have an emergency.”

“That’s very kind, but unnecessary,” Evans replied stiffly. She had been forced to open the door wider to accept the plate, and looking past her Penny spotted a toy truck on the floor.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had a child,” Penny exclaimed. “I’m a good babysitter if you ever need one. I have references from half the people in town.”

“I don’t have a child!” Evans snapped. Then following Penny’s glance she turned and saw the toy truck. “My sister helped me get settled. That belongs to her son.”

“Well, if she ever visits and you two want to go off for lunch, you have my phone number,” Penny said amiably. The last three words were addressed to the door that had closed in her face. For the moment she stood uncertainly, then wishing she had the courage to ring the bell again and grab her blueberry muffins out of the woman’s hand, she turned and hurried back to her car.

“I hope Gloria Evans isn’t writing a book on manners,” she sniffed as, thoroughly humiliated, she backed up her car, turned it around, and sped away.