“Well, he’s doing beautiful work. My Henry could never fix a fence that straight.” She lowered her voice. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“What? No! I don’t even know him.”
“I’ve called the police seven times.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh my.”
I couldn’t explain it. Neither could anyone else.
October arrived. The front fence was nearly complete. I’d stopped calling the cops. What was the point? Earl wasn’t hurting anything. If anything, my property value had probably doubled.
But I still didn’t understand.
One cold morning, I made a decision. I poured two cups of coffee, put on my jacket, and walked outside while Earl was working.
He looked up as I approached. Same sad eyes. Same tired face.
“Morning, ma’am.”
He hesitated, then took it. “Thank you kindly.”
I sat down on an overturned bucket nearby. “Earl, I need to know. Why are you doing this?”
He sipped the coffee. Stared at the fence.
“It’s a long story, ma’am.”
“I’ve got time.”
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