Did Terrance ever get homesick for their old room with the bunk beds? For the wallpaper with the nautical theme and the fishnet their mother had pinned up between the bunks? Ted never asked, and Terrance never said. Jillian slept in that room now. It was painted lavender with white trim. “Who’s been sleeping in my bed?” Terrance liked to say when he saw Jillian. Jillian, who had adored Uncle Terry when she was little, now just smiled, tolerant. Ted and Allison slept in his parents’ bed, which still made him feel a little funny.

He decided to go the long way, to stay out of the scrutinizing gaze of his wife and daughter for that much longer, and wound up in front of the new people’s house. The fellow was mowing the lawn—an odd thing to do on moving day, but an encouraging one. The man’s handshake was so firm it hurt. Ted couldn’t hear his name over the roar of the mower; it wasn’t till the fellow turned the mower off that he got it: Grant Davenport-Gardner.

“I use a manual mower. Beats buying gas all the time,” Ted said.

“I suppose a lot of people have lawn services,” Grant said.

Ted nodded. “Especially the people with the new houses, who don’t have much lawn to cut.”

Grant laughed. Did that mean he was on Ted’s side on the big-house issue? Ted tested him. “Some of these houses are unbelievable. Like hotels.”

“You said it.”

They stood there for a while, nodding at each other. Ted offered Grant a wave instead of his hand when he left. There. That was something to tell Allison and Jillian about.

Nick Cox owed them a new tree, Ted thought as he continued his route to the post office. Not just a seedling, but a full-size tree. He should have just offered it outright—any decent person would have—but he hadn’t. Ted had imagined confronting him many times: “Look here, Cox. You owe me a new tree.” What would Cox say? “Don’t you have anything more important to think about, Miller?” He could just hear him.

Ted wanted his neighborhood to be at rest again. He wanted someone to pound the gavel and tell Nick Cox, “That’s enough now.” He wanted a father figure to break up the fight.

So far no such person had appeared. Instead, there had been committees and committees in charge of those committees, all created to try to figure out what to do about the changing face of Willard Park. Meanwhile the older houses fell like dominoes.

Back at the house, he set the stamps on the kitchen table, at Allison’s place, where she would be sure to see them. Then he went back out to the yard. To think.

5

OCTOBER 14