CHAPTER FIVE

C HAPTER F IVE

Chloe Leavitt strolled through the neighborhood, relishing the sights and scents around her as she made her way to Shannon Gibbons’s home. She had seen Shannon leaving Rosella’s house a while ago. Chloe enjoyed developing new relationships and expanding her social circle whenever possible; many considered her a one-woman welcoming committee.

The sun was shining and the birds were chirping, making it the perfect day to not only get to know Shannon but also show her around the area before pouncing. She hoped it wasn’t too soon, but she had no choice in the matter. Time was running out, and she needed to ask Shannon Gibbons a very important question: Would she be interested in being a judge for the Best House on the Block competition? Shannon was new to the area and would offer a fresh perspective.

Feeling optimistic, Chloe followed the pathway to the front door and rang the doorbell. As she waited, she thought about what her kids often said about her tendency to be “too much” at times. When Chloe had asked for clarification, they said she was “too intense,” “too dramatic,” “too talkative,” and “too enthusiastic.” She smiled, thinking how her kids, all three of them, were too serious and way too judgmental.

When the door came open, Chloe tossed all thoughts of her kids’ opinions aside. “Come on!” she said. “I’m taking you on a drive.”

“A drive?” Shannon asked. “Where to?”

“You’ll see,” Chloe said. “It’ll be fun. We have lots to talk about.”

“I need to grab a few things first,” Shannon said. She glanced downward at her feet and winced. “I also need to change shoes. My feet are killing me.”

From the looks of it, the woman either hadn’t had time to unpack her clothes or needed to go shopping. “Not a problem,” Chloe said, stepping inside and shooing her away. Shannon ran off, and Chloe closed the door behind her. “Get your sunglasses!” she said in her loud voice, the one she used for her kids every morning when she was downstairs and they were upstairs. “We might have time to grab a bite to eat or a cup of coffee before school ends, too.”

Never one to stand still for long, Chloe walked around the kitchen and adjoining rooms, surprised to see so many unopened boxes in the living and dining rooms. She grabbed one labeled K ITCHEN S UPPLIES and brought it to the center island. It was a beautiful kitchen with marble countertops, custom cabinets, a porcelain farmhouse sink with Brizo faucets and Thermador appliances. She searched through the drawers for a pair of scissors, grabbed a steak knife instead, and used it to slice through the tape and open the cardboard flaps. By the time Shannon returned, she had emptied two boxes.

“There,” she said. “Two down and only a dozen more to go!” Chloe laughed, but Shannon didn’t appear to be laughing with her. “Oh no. I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Overstepped my boundaries.” She rested a hand on her chest over her heart. Despite her best intentions, her tendency to offer unsolicited help and advice had garnered mixed reactions over the years. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Shannon said as she walked into the kitchen. “It’s fine.”

“I see it written all over your face. You’re too nice to tell me to mind my own business. It won’t happen again. But,” she added, “if you ever want help unpacking these boxes and assisting you with getting organized, I’m your gal!”

Shannon smiled. “Thank you. I’ll take it from here, but I do appreciate what you’ve done, and I’ll let you know if I need help.”

“It’s a deal,” Chloe said. “Ready to go?”

Shannon had no idea what Chloe had meant when she’d said they had lots to talk about, but it didn’t take long for the tension to leave her shoulders as they drove down Forty-Third Street to Forty-Second, and finally to Fortieth, all lovely. Chloe was everything Shannon wasn’t—talkative, outgoing, and opinionated, for starters—and Shannon enjoyed her company.

Chloe pointed at various homes and went into great detail about defining characteristics of certain architectural styles. “There’s a perfect example of an Arts and Crafts home,” she said, slowing before she pulled to the curb. She pointed at one of the more earthy and subdued homes on the street, the exterior a combination of wood and stone. “Notice the broad, overhanging eaves that provide shelter and contribute to the horizontal emphasis of the design,” she said. “The roofs, like this one, are typically low pitched and often feature exposed rafters.” Chloe sighed. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is. I love the simplicity and its overall connection to nature.”

Chloe pulled her black BMW back onto the street. After a few more turns and a couple of stops, she pulled to the curb again, this time stopping in front of a charming Tudor home on Fortieth Street. She shut off the engine, unbuckled her seat belt, and turned toward Shannon. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to take a walk and show you one of my favorite houses.”

“Great. I could use some fresh air.”

They hadn’t walked far before a white Range Rover stopped in the middle of the road. The window came down. A woman with dark, curly hair and dangling earrings that glittered in the sunlight stuck an arm out of the window and waved. “Hello! Book club is at my house next week. Don’t forget!” Her eyes swept over Shannon. “Hello. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Shannon Gibbons.”

“Janelle McKinnon,” the woman offered cheerfully. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Shannon said.

“Shannon recently moved into the Craftsman across from Holly and Becky,” Chloe informed Janelle.

“Caroline Baxter’s place?” Janelle asked.

“Yes. That’s the one,” Chloe said.

“I heard from Peggy that Rosella offered Caroline a hefty sum to sell her house at a ridiculous price. That’s why she moved so quickly.”

Shannon’s jaw dropped. “We used a respectable title company. There was nothing in the disclosures about a payment being made.”

“Don’t you worry. Sounds like gossip to me,” Chloe said. “Peggy is a bit of a know-it-all who likes to make up stories.”

“I know, I know,” Janelle said. “But Sophie Pushkin, three doors down, confirmed the story when I asked her about it.” She glanced at her rearview mirror and saw a car approaching. “I better go. I’ll see you at book club!”

“Janelle is married to the head coach of the Sacramento Kings,” Chloe explained to Shannon, then frowned. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“That’s the second time I’ve heard Caroline Baxter’s name,” Shannon said. “Becky and Dianne seemed surprised by Caroline’s quick move. And now this.”

“There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there?” Chloe asked, her voice softening. “I dragged you out of your house and never stopped to ask whether you were interested in taking a short tour of the neighborhood.”

“It’s okay. I needed to get my mind off my conversation with Rosella, and I guess the thing about Caroline Baxter brought it all back. I’ll be fine.”

“I take it your meeting with Rosella didn’t go well?”

Shannon exhaled. “You could say that.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I do have a question.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, waiting.

“Rosella was definitely acting strange. I don’t know her, but I thought I did, and she was nothing like the person I had conjured in my mind.” Shannon tried to sort through all the questions Rosella’s behavior had raised before she said more.

“She was cruel? Unsettling? Outlandish? All the above? Sorry,” Chloe added. “I don’t mean to be flippant.”

“Yes,” Shannon said. “I would say she was all of those things. After I met with Rosella, before you knocked on the door, I did some research and found out she had been in a psychiatric hospital when she was a teenager.”

“That’s a new one,” Chloe said.

“According to the doctor who wrote the report, Rosella was violent, and her parents were afraid of her.” Shannon winced. “God, what am I doing? I shouldn’t be sharing this with anyone. This sort of information could do a lot of damage to someone’s reputation.”

Chloe placed a hand on her arm. “I won’t tell a soul. I promise. We used to be friends, Rosella and I. Sometimes, I actually miss the conversations we used to have. We would delve deep, beyond surface-level topics, often in ways that were meaningful and thought-provoking.”

Chloe appeared wistful until another car drove by, the woman in the driver’s seat honking and waving as she passed. “Maybe we should finish our tour and talk about Rosella later,” Chloe suggested.

“Good idea.” Shannon was glad to move on. She had mixed feelings about discussing Rosella, especially so soon after meeting her. As they continued on, walking beneath the canopy of trees lining both sides of the street, she thought it was a wonder Chloe could fit in a breath between sentences. She had a flair for verbal expression, and Shannon found herself thoroughly entertained as Chloe spoke about each stunning residence they passed.

“Every house,” she said, “is a masterpiece in its own right, proudly displaying a unique blend of architectural styles.” She raised her arms in awe. “Where else would you see such majestic Tudor homes with steeply pitched roofs, half-timbered facades, and leaded glass windows standing shoulder to shoulder with stately Colonial Revival residences, their symmetrical, white-painted exteriors and imposing porticoes speaking to a regal and timeless era?”

Chloe was right; Shannon had never seen anything like the Fabulous Forties—or “Fab Forties,” as those living in the area called it. When Shannon had thought she would be working with Rosella on a story about homes in the area, she’d done a fair amount of research on some of the grander estates. “It does seem as if each home tells a different chapter of architectural history,” she said.

Chloe stopped in her tracks. Her eyes brightened. “Yes! You get it, don’t you?”

Shannon smiled. “This place. The trees. These amazing homes. It does feel magical.”

They stood silently on the sidewalk, side by side. There was no awkwardness between them, only serenity. Shannon listened to the quiet murmur of leaves rustling in the breeze, and somewhere in the treetops, she heard birdsong. She felt as if she were listening to a symphony of nature when the front door of a two-story home across the street came open. A woman and her children made their way to the SUV parked at the curb. The woman ushered her children into the vehicle, waved, and said, “Hello, Chloe! Any luck finding a judge yet?”

“Not yet,” Chloe said. “I’m working on it.” She rested a hand on Shannon’s shoulder. “Emily Carter, I’d like you to meet my new neighbor, Shannon Gibbons.”

“Nice to meet you,” Emily said. “I do have to go, but we’ll all have to get together sometime.”

Shannon and Chloe waved as the woman drove off.

“A judge?” Shannon asked.

Chloe nodded. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

Shannon waited for her to explain.

“You might have heard about the Best House on the Block award held in the Fab Forties each year.”

“Yes, I have.” In her mind’s eye, Shannon saw the sneer on Rosella’s face when she talked about the notion of Chloe Leavitt ever winning the award again. She heard the disgust in Rosella’s voice when she’d said, Over my dead body.

Chloe pointed. “Do you see the home there, the one next to Emily’s?”

“The Colonial with the gorgeous pillars,” Shannon said. “It’s the first house I noticed when I stepped onto the sidewalk.”

“The house belongs to Greta and Henry Knightley. I am happy to report it will be part of the tour this year. Wait until you see the inside. There’s a gourmet kitchen with a delightful butler’s pantry, and a kitchen nook, and oh my goodness, a sophisticated fireplace with french doors leading to a music room—”

Chloe stopped midsentence, prompting Shannon to follow her upward gaze to a floor-to-ceiling window on the top floor. There was someone near the window. A man.

“Is he practicing yoga?” Shannon asked.

“I believe so,” Chloe said.

The man pivoted so he was facing the window straight on.

“He’s in the Tree Pose,” Shannon said. “Is he naked?”

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

“Oh no,” Shannon whispered.

“Yessiree. He’s doing the Downward-Facing Dog.” Chloe grabbed hold of Shannon’s arm and dragged her back toward the car. They both started laughing as Chloe fumbled to unlock the car so they could get away as fast as possible.

They buckled up and Chloe started the engine and took off.

Shannon couldn’t stop giggling like a twelve-year-old schoolgirl.

Chloe was smiling from ear to ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that side of Mr. Knightley.”

“I would hope not. Does this mean Mr. Knightley’s odds of winning the BHOTB award are even better?”

Chloe glanced her way. “Are you serious? Absolutely!”

They both burst out laughing again.

“Thanks for taking me on a drive,” Shannon said once she got control of herself. “I needed a good laugh.”

“Don’t thank me,” Chloe said. “Thank Mr. Knightley. Hey, do you want to go to Temple and grab some coffee?”

“I’d love to.”

Fifteen minutes later, they had their lattes and were sitting at a table outside Temple Coffee Roasters on H Street. The day was bright and clear, not a cloud in sight. People were coming and going, some with dogs, others with strollers. “What was it you were going to tell me about needing a judge?”

Chloe set her latte on the table. “Well, I do realize I am asking a lot from you. You’re new to the neighborhood, we only met today, and here I am asking for a favor—”

“Spit it out,” Shannon said with a laugh. “The suspense is killing me.”

“I was hoping you would consider being a judge for the Best House on the Block award.”

Silence.

Shannon thought of Rosella and how much the award meant to her. How could she tell Rosella she wasn’t going to work with her and then judge her house? “I can’t ... I couldn’t. Rosella is one of the reasons why we moved here. I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Rosella wouldn’t mind at all.”

“Oh, no, I disagree,” Shannon said.

Chloe’s brow shot up. “Please tell me she didn’t mention the Best House on the Block award when you met with her.”

“She did. She said she told you the only way you would receive the award would be over her dead body.”

Chloe snorted. “She might have said those words. Who cares?”

“I do. Becky said Rosella was scary, stubborn, and overbearing. She wasn’t wrong.”

“I don’t want to pry,” Chloe said, “but I will tell you it would be unwise for you to make any decisions based on fear over what Rosella Marlow may or may not think.”

“I’m just not sure being a judge would be a good idea.”

“Think on it before you give me an answer.”

“How much time do I have?” Shannon asked.

“Twenty-four hours.”

Shannon laughed.

“I’m serious,” Chloe said. “Scheduling begins in a few days. All volunteers and judges will be meeting later this week to talk about the duration of the tour and how much time participants will be allowed to spend inside each home. We have to decide whether it will be a single-day event or span an entire weekend. Please consider helping a girl out. While we drove around, I saw how much you appreciated the architecture and history of the area.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts.” Chloe extended her right arm like a traffic cop. “Sleep on it. Okay? And we’ll talk tomorrow.”

After spending only a few hours with Chloe, Shannon realized she hadn’t laughed this much in a very long time. Chloe was charismatic and fun to be around. “Okay,” she finally said. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

“And no pressure,” Chloe added before sipping her latte. “No matter what you decide, we’re good.”