Daniel,

At some point, you are going to question whether you imagined myself and Sterns. If you don’t question that, you may begin to question whether we were honest with you. I assure you, everything we told you was true and real. If you are ever uncertain about that, merely reread this note.

Incidentally, I would be delighted to give you a tour of the House this weekend. I believe there is a wrought-iron gate just behind Aaron’s Porch, should you need access. Dinner is on me, naturally.

Ever your neighbor,

C.

It was after my shift the following day, and fortunately, all of my deliveries had been to doors unblocked by fences today. I wasn’t certain I wanted to accidentally stumble onto the Lane again.

Next to the note from Carver was another note, written in my hand on the pad of lined paper I kept by my computer. I read it as well.

I think Carver used some sort of whammy on me. I distinctly remember trusting him completely, but at the moment, I cannot imagine a good reason for it. He might try to pull that stunt again, so I’m writing this note so I can remind myself. Carver is tricking me somehow. Drugs in the wine, or maybe just sleight of hand.

I remembered writing it. It had been this morning. I even remembered having those thoughts. I knew it was my doing. I trusted myself enough to know that I wouldn’t have done it without good reason. I looked back at Carver’s note. I found that as much as I trusted myself about Carver’s whammy, I trusted his note equally.

This was giving me a headache.

I decided to take a walk. Maybe coming back to the notes fresh would let me make better sense of them. Wait, have I already tried that?

On my way out, I knocked on the door of Mrs. Hughes in the next apartment building. “Mrs. Hughes? It’s Daniel Corners.”

I was answered by the high pitched barking of Mrs. Hughes’s dog, Pepper. A couple seconds later Mrs. Hughes’s voice joined in, “One moment, Daniel. Oh, Pepper, down. I said down.” The barking subsided. “Good girl. Good. It’s only Daniel; you like Daniel.” The door opened, revealing Mrs. Hughes. She was wearing a hand-made sweater over a dress that wouldn’t have been out of place in a movie about World War II. She had her wide-based cane in one hand, but didn’t seem to be leaning on it for support today. Mrs. Hughes was past eighty. “Daniel, so nice of you to stop by. Would you like to come in? I can make some coffee.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Hughes, but I’m actually on my way out for a walk. I was wondering if you needed someone to take Pepper out today.” At the words ‘walk’ and ‘Pepper’, Pepper herself sat up and looked expectantly at me. She was a terrier mix of some kind, and her little whipcord tail started whacking into the table with enthusiasm.

“Oh, no thank you Daniel. My nephew is stopping by any minute now with his family. We are all going to go to the park. Such a fine day. The kids will want to play with Pepper, I’m sure.”

‘Play’ was also one of Pepper’s words. Her table whacking increased.

“Okay, Mrs. Hughes, that sounds nice. Say hi to your nephew for me. Sorry Pepper, you can’t come with today,” I knelt, and Mrs. Hughes clicked her tongue to signal Pepper was free to approach. I’m honestly not certain how Mrs. Hughes managed to train the little pup so well considering how much trouble she had just getting around. I gave Pepper some enthusiastic noogies, and Mrs. Hughes smiled down at us. “So glad you moved in here, Daniel. That last hooligan was such a trial.”

“That was six years ago, Mrs. Hughes.”

“I’m well aware,” she answered, grinning wider. I’ve heard the metaphor ‘mischievous glint in their eye’, but Mrs. Hughes did it better than anyone I knew. “He was ten years worth of hooligan. Plus, I’m old. Complaining about the young is one of the best perks, you know.”

I had never figured out what my apartment’s previous owner had done to be worthy of Mrs. Hughes’s ire. In six years, I had never once seen her truly angry at another person. I’d tried to ask the owner about it one year at the building’s summer cookout, and he had clammed up, then avoided me for the rest of the party. Nobody else seemed to remember him much, not even the Idles on my other side. But Mrs. Hughes had nothing but bad memories of the man.

I got caught up with Mrs. Hughes in a few short exchanges. We saw each other a couple times a week. Her oldest grandkid had just started his last year of med school. I told her I had been approached for a new position with a courier service. I left out that the position involved traveling outside of the realm of known physics. Pepper dutifully brought me her favorite stuffed toy, which I praised her for before throwing it down the hall for her to chase.

After a few minutes, I bid Mrs. Hughes a good evening and headed out into the street. I knew the neighborhood fairly well. It was safe, or as safe as a city neighborhood normally got. Mostly it was occupied by people like me and Mrs. Hughes. Modest but stable income, was the phrase my mother liked to use. We made enough for our little studios or lofts (I think the Idles technically had a two bedroom, though I hadn’t ever been inside). I carried a little keychain can of emergency spray, but I had never had to use it.

I let my feet wander through the different blocks unevenly spaced in the area. Little two and three story apartment buildings shared driveways with small one-story family homes. Every few blocks, I passed a convenience store, reminding me that I was growing increasingly hungry. I hadn’t brought any cash with me, though. After a while, I turned to go back toward my own apartment. Once again, I let my feet wander. They knew the neighborhood.

Unfortunately, they did not seem to be consulting my sense of reason. As I rounded the back of my own apartment building, I went to slip through the little alley between it and the next building.

Suddenly, my feet reported that instead of pavement, they were standing on packed sand. I had forgotten the alley was blocked by a little gate. A little gate made of wrought iron. Hastily realizing what I had done, I turned to leave. My brother’s voice interrupted me.

“Oh, Mister Daniel. I’m afraid we weren’t expecting you so soon. Please, allow me to show you up to the House and introduce you.”

I turned. I took in the three piece suit. This one had silver buttons. Porter was standing there, in his hob shape. Briefly, I thought about my note to myself about the whammy, but then I remembered that this House was safe. Whammy or no whammy, Carver was a good neighbor.

“Sorry, Porter. I didn’t mean to drop in unannounced, but my feet found me here. Do you think Mister Carver will mind?”

“Not at all, sir! He’d be delighted to entertain you. Right this way.”

As I followed Porter up the packed sand path to the House, I wondered if Carver still had a dart board hung in his game room. It couldn’t hurt to take a few hours off from aging.