-The Moving Truck-

A moving truck slowly rolls into midwestern suburbia. It’s a sunny September afternoon—a typical Thursday for this quiet Milford neighborhood, until the rumbling arrival of the moving truck. The grey truck slows to a halt in front of 27 Mason Street and backs into the drive just before the car park. A “FOR SALE” sign was still swinging on a post in the front lawn of the little brick home. 

Mrs. Prudence Tiddle, with her hair in blue curlers, peered between slats of the blinds from the purple house across the street. 

Mrs. Kathy Embleton had already clocked the arrival of the moving truck, and she was presently rummaging through her collection of bundt pans to locate one suitable enough for a welcome gelatin ring. 

The engine of the truck sputtered into silence. 

Mrs. Loretta Finch leaned into her upstairs window from the white house next door to get a better look. 

Dr. Alma Penrose stood from her lawn chair behind the white fence in the backyard, one finger still stuck in her book, and watched both doors of the truck open. A man and a boy no older than 13 stepped out to stretch. Dr. Penrose nodded her straw sun hat in approval of the pair and returned to her mystery novel in the chair. 

Mrs. Isadora Vance stepped onto her porch from the brown house next to the Tiddles with a basket of linens to hang on the line. She was mid-pin of a sheet when a cherry red Chrysler 300 screeched to a halt in front of her home, backed up to number 27, and drove across the grass around the moving truck, coming to a stop under the car park. Mrs. Vance couldn’t help but stare.

The man rushed to the driver’s side door of the Chrysler, opened it, and took a red-gloved hand reaching out. A red pump exited the vehicle next, followed by a nylon-clad calf. 

Mrs. Tibbits adjusted her binoculars from her kitchen window. The hem of a yellow swing dress followed, and then a pale, slender woman emerged with long blond curls cascading over her shoulders, and sunglasses shaded her eyes. 

She surveyed the neighborhood and adjusted the veil on her red pillbox hat before passing a leather handbag to the man and walking inside. 

Just down the street, Father Raoul, in a black shirt and collar, watered his chrysanthemums a little too long, the green garden hose in his large, hairy-knuckled hands stiffened, spraying up the side of his house slightly.

The man and the boy opened the back of the moving truck, then got to work creating an assembly line of brown cardboard boxes going into the house. 

Mrs. Embleton slid a green gelatin ring with cut fruit onto the top shelf of her refrigerator. 

Mrs. Vance watched the men from between her sheets. The Father was clean-shaven and stocky with black square-framed glasses and a crew cut. He wore dark Levis, boots, and a small, round belly protruded underneath his tucked white undershirt. The son was a shorter, huskier version of the older man. 

Together, they hefted bed frames, tables, couches, and chairs down the ramp and into the side door with maximum efficiency. As the boy carried the last table lamp inside the house and the man slid the door shut on the back of the truck, the woman reappeared through the front door to take up the for sale sign in front of the house before she disappeared again with it inside. 

Mrs. Finch went back to work vacuuming the bedroom. 

Mrs. Tiddle adjusted the antenna on her scanner radio. 

Father Raoul finally turned off his garden hose. 

Dr. Penrose licked her thumb and turned another page in her book.  

-Her Pet- 

Evelynna DeLancy’s red pumps clicked over the white tile floors of the kitchen. She set a block of knives down next to the sink and added wooden spoons to a canister labeled “utensils”. Tom DeLancy cleared his throat in the archway dividing the kitchen and dining rooms and wiped his glasses with the bottom of his sweaty shirt.

“Well, honey, I do believe that’s the last of it,” he declared.

“Good boy,” Evelynna purred. “Did the bed frame give you much trouble?”

“None at all,” Tom grinned. Evelynna turned and gazed out the kitchen window, noting that the neighbors’ curtains suddenly clammed shut after she turned. 

“We need curtains,” Evelynna stated casually, “and food for the pantry. I’m taking the checkbook to the shops this weekend.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Tom said. He slowly approached his wife at the sink from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

“I saw a diner in the town,” Evelynna continued, “We’ll eat there tonight.”

“Wonderful,” Tom agreed, burying his nose in the crook of his wife’s neck. 

“That means get dressed, my Pet,” Evelynna commanded. Tom smirked.

 “Yes, Mistress Eve,” he bowed.

 “And fetch the youngling, would you, Pet?” 

“Yes, Mistress Eve.” 

Evelynna braced her arms over the sink, scanning the houses nearby. There was a little purple house with a pink front gate directly across the way, a brown house with a screen porch to the left, and to the right was a tan house with chrysanthemums of red, yellow, and orange lining a concrete walkway. 

Evelynna stepped through the archway into her new dining room and circled their old oak table. The matching chairs were stacked neatly in the corner near a built-in hutch. 

A black shoebox labeled “Pet things” lay neatly on the end of the hutch. Evelynna scooped it up and swiveled on one heel, marching toward the master bedroom. She found Tom facing a mirror leaning against the wall, cinching a blue tie to the collar of a grey button-up shirt. He noticed Evelynna in the reflection behind him and smiled.

“Nearly ready to go, honey,” he beamed. 

“I thought I asked you to deposit each box in the room where it belongs,” Evelynna leaned against the bedroom doorway. She tapped the top of the black shoebox with her long fingernails. 

“I did that, hunny,” Tom said, turning around. Then his eyes caught the box. He swallowed hard. “Oh,” he gasped. 

“I found this on the dining room table,” Evelynna explained. Tom reached for it. 

“The youngling must have brought that one in, Mistress Eve.” Evelynna pulled the box just out of his grasp.

“Not so fast,” she waved a finger, “I asked you to keep track of this one.” She put her free hand on his shoulder and pushed him downward, to his knees. “You were careless, my Pet.”

“Mistress Eve, I apologize for my carelessness. May I be forgiven?” Evelynna thrust the box at Tom’s chest.

 “Find a proper place to store your things,” she sighed. Tom shuffled on his knees with the box toward a bare bedframe set up in the middle of the room. 

 “Here?” He asked, indicating a corner underneath the bed frame. Evelynna arched her brow in response.

 “On the floor?” She questioned. The man shuffled toward the little closet space and pointed.

“Up there, Mistress Evelynna?” He indicated the closet’s upper shelf. 

“Better,” Evelynna hummed. The man stood up and slid the box onto the shelf. “You’re lucky,” Evelynna mused, “I almost made you select something out of your box for me to use on you right here.” She drew out the last two words sensually. Tom’s lip quivered. His pupils widened. His fingers clenched at his sides. Evelynna smirked. 

“But I think you would like that too much, my Pet, and we have a diner to get to. Come.” Tom followed.

-Gelatin Ring-

“Tommy dear,” Evelynna called down the hallway. Her son poked his head out of the doorway.

 “I can’t find my Letterman Mom,” he complained. “Did you check the box in the front closet?”

 “Oh yeah, thanks!” The boy replied, dashing toward the front of the house. His mother stopped him with an arm, looked at him, and smiled. 

“That shirt looks nice on you,” she said. Tommy was wearing a plaid button-up from the men’s section. It fit him well. 

Tommy was 13 and somewhat heavier than many of his peers. He resisted wearing the new men’s shirts for many months, insisting on squeezing into his snug shirts—a last relic of boyhood. Tommy shrugged in response to his mother’s compliment. 

“Oh yeah, Mom, did you guys have a dog or something before I was born?” 

“No, why?” Evelynna shook her head. 

“I brought in a pet box, figured it must have been old or something,” Tommy shrugged again. He didn’t notice his mother’s jaw tighten momentarily.

“We had a cat,” Evelynna lied. Tommy accepted the answer and went rummaging through a box out front for his letterman.

“Mom, there’s a woman at the door!” Tommy called from the foyer. Evelynna opened the front door, and there she was, in loafers, a pastel A-line dress, and a faux-bang updo, holding out a wiggly green gelatin ring in a crystal platter with a grin so wide Evelynna could see her front molars.

 “Hello. I’m Mrs. Harold Embelton, from the house next door. I couldn’t help but notice you folks moving in, and I thought I would bring over a little welcome treat on behalf of the Milford Ladies’ Guild. I lead it, don’t you know. All the respectable women in Milford are part of the Guild, of course,” Mrs. Embelton finished her speech. Evelynna accepted the wobbly dessert. 

You don’t say, she muttered, and just a little louder, “thank you, Mrs. Embelton. I appreciate your kind gesture, truly.” Mrs. Embelton paused for a beat, as if waiting for an invitation inside. 

“My name is Evelynna, behind me is my husband Tom, and our son Tommy is over there.” Mrs Embelton poked her head around the door frame and smiled. 

“Just the one child?” She inquired, eyebrows high.

“Just the one,” Evelynna confirmed. 

“Well,” she paused, “a family is a family, either way,” she clasped her hands in front of her. “Welcome to Milford, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas, and Timmy. So you know, my husband, Herald, is the Civic Club president here in Milford. We’re happy to help you folks get acquainted with the neighborhood.”  

“Tommy,” Evelynna corrected. Mrs. Embelton sputtered. 

“Sorry? Oh. Forgive me. Tommy.”

“Thank you again for the gelatin ring, Mrs. Embelton.”

“It was nothing. Well, you folks must be busy. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to reach out.” Mrs. Embelton finished. 

“We will. It was nice meeting you.” 

“Oh, the pleasure was all mine.”

“I’ll have Tom run the plate back to you after it’s cleaned,” Evalynna promised, backing into the foyer. 

“No rush, dear, enjoy,” Mrs Embelton strode back to the sidewalk. The front door closed with a click. She handed Tom the welcome offering in silence. 

“We’re next door to the Civic Club,” Tom remarked. 

“It would seem so,” Evelynna smirked, “we’d better be on our best behavior.” She straightened the collar of Tom’s shirt and tried to smooth out a wrinkle near the front pocket. 

“The moving boxes were not gentle on our clothing,” she sighed. “I’ll press your uniform and shine your badge tonight for your first shift tomorrow,” she promised softly. 

“Milford can’t have their new chief of police looking like he’s living out of a cardboard box, can they?” Evelynna kissed Tom’s cheek and turned toward the door.

 “No, we can’t have that hunny. Wouldn’t want President Harold to cite me for dull cuff links,” Tom chuckled. Evalynna snickered.  

“Hop in the car, boys,” she announced, clutching her purse and sliding on her red gloves, “I’m driving us to the diner.”  

The gelatin ring wobbled on the counter, untouched.