The trouble began with a newspaper. Specifically, the classified section. Vivian found it while drinking coffee. She read the advertisement twice. Then she lowered the newspaper. “Oh.”
Martie looked up. “What?”
Vivian slid the paper across the table. Martie read it. Her eyebrows rose. Lou leaned over. “What?”
Martie handed it to her. Lou read aloud. “Beautiful three-bedroom house. Quiet neighborhood. Recently renovated. Perfect for a mature woman looking for a peaceful place to settle.”
Lou looked up. “So?”
Vivian smiled. “Someone is moving in.”
Martie frowned. “Okay.”
“Next door to Art.”
Martie immediately understood. “No.”
Vivian smiled wider. “Why not?”
“Because we are not doing this again.”
Lou raised her hand. “What are we doing?”
“Nothing.”
Vivian looked offended. “We're simply being welcoming.”
Martie pointed at her. "That's how this started with Art.”
“And look how well that turned out.”
“That doesn't mean we should recruit another person.”
Vivian smiled. “Who said anything about recruiting?”
Lou stood. “We need a basket.”
Martie groaned. “No.”
“Flowers.”
“No.”
“Pie.”
“No.”
Vivian stood. “I'm getting my hat.”
Martie closed her eyes. “Oh, Lord.”
Art was sitting on his porch when he saw the three women marching down the street.
He watched them.
They were carrying baskets, flowers, a pie, and what appeared to be a small decorative flag.
He stood. “No.” They kept walking. Art raised his voice. “Absolutely not.”
They kept coming. Hank barked. Art looked at him. “Don't encourage them.”
They reached the new house. The front door opened. An elderly woman stood there. She was small, with silver hair and wearing a yellow cardigan.
She looked at the three women. Then at Art, who had followed the sisters. Then back at the women. Vivian smiled. “Welcome to the neighborhood!” Art stared at the woman.
The woman laughed. “Well.”
She stepped onto the porch. “I was wondering when you would come.”
Vivian stopped. “You know about us?”
The woman smiled. “Oh, yes.”
She looked directly at Art. “I know Arthur Caldwell.”
Art froze.
The woman smiled. “I haven't seen him in forty years.”
Art stared at her. Then slowly asked, “Who are you?”
The woman smiled. “My name is Ruth.” She paused. “Ruth Meachum.”
Art's face went completely white.
Emily had stepped out onto Art's porch, after hearing the commotion outside. “Dad?” He didn't answer.
Ruth looked at him. Then she smiled. “Hello, Arthur.”
Art whispered, “Ruth?”
She nodded. “Hello, old friend.”
Vivian looked at Martie. Martie looked at Lou. Lou whispered, “This is getting good.”
Art stared at the woman. And suddenly the past wasn't across the street anymore. It had moved in. And it had brought forty years of memories with it.