Page 23 of Saving Her Heart
"Your apartment's across the hall. You can watch my door from there."
It's a dismissal, but a gentle one. I'm about to leave when we hear commotion at the other end of the hallway.
"Yoo-hoo! Kendall dear!"
The Walking Ladies have arrived. All four of them, dressed in their power-walking outfits despite being in an interior hallway. Gladys leads the charge, with Florence, Betty, and Joan close behind.
"We heard about last night," Gladys announces, pushing past me into Kendall's apartment like she owns the place. "Valerie got what was coming to her."
"That woman's been a pain in everyone's rear since she moved here," Florence adds.
"And that poor Mrs. Parsons," Betty sighs. "Though I have to say, the goat story was entertaining. I wish I had seen it in person."
"Ladies," Kendall says, clearly overwhelmed, "I appreciate the support, but?—"
"Oh, we're not here about that," Joan says with a grin that can only be described as mischievous. "We're here about him." She points at me.
"Me?"
"Living across the hall. Very convenient." Gladys waggles her eyebrows. "Very romantic."
"It's for protection," Kendall says quickly. "There have been threats."
"Protection." Florence draws out the word. "Is that what kids are calling it these days?"
"I remember when my first husband provided me with 'protection,'" Betty says dreamily. "Nine months later, we had twins."
Kendall's face turns bright red. "It's not like that."
"Of course not, dear," Gladys says, patting Kendall's arm. "Though you should know, the walls in this building are surprisingly thin."
"What she means," Joan clarifies helpfully, "is we'll hear everything."
"Everything," Florence confirms with a wink.
"There's nothing to hear!" Kendall protests.
"Not yet," Betty mutters, and they all giggle like teenagers.
My phone buzzes, saving us from more embarrassing speculation. It's Declan.
Declan: You need to see this. Someone spray painted the side of Building 3 over there.
"I have to go," I tell Kendall, showing her the message. "Lock your door."
"What does it say? The graffiti?"
I hesitate, then show her the photo Declan sent. In large red letters across the building's side: "KENDALL GREENE HAS TO GO."
Her face pales. "That's going to take forever to remove."
"We'll handle it," I promise.
The Walking Ladies crowd around to see the photo.
"That's definitely Brad's handiwork," Gladys declares. "He spray painted obscenities on the tennis court in the RV park last year when they raised his rent."
"You have proof of that?" I ask.
