“Yes, I know.”
“And the leaves need clearing.”
“The landscaping crew comes twice a week.”
“Not enough.”
“So?”
“So I’ll keep this section clear.”
“With the blower?”
“Yes.”
Harold smiled.
“Nancy will love that.”
“I’m not getting in the middle of your marriage.”
“Smart woman.”
Elena used the blower more frequently after that.
Ten minutes.
Sometimes fifteen.
She never told Nancy why because Harold asked her not to.
That was a mistake too.
Not as serious as Nancy grabbing her.
But still a mistake.
Secrecy had turned an ordinary maintenance choice into something Nancy interpreted entirely differently.
Officer Reyes listened.
“So Mrs. Rosenberg believes you're disturbing her husband.”
“Yes.”
“While you're actually clearing a fall hazard he asked you to clear.”
“Yes.”
Reyes exhaled.
“That’s complicated.”
“No.”
Elena looked toward Nancy’s unit.
“The reason is complicated.”
“Grabbing me wasn't.”
That distinction mattered.
Understanding someone’s stress did not erase what they did with it.
Chapter 6: Harold Tells the Truth
Harold came home from the hospital late that evening.
Bruised shoulder.
No fracture.
No brain bleed.
The doctor called it lucky.
Nancy called it proof he should never stand without her.
Harold called it proof he should use the damn walker.
That surprised her.
They barely spoke that night.
The following morning, Harold sat at the kitchen table.
Nancy made coffee.
Then he said:
“Elena told you?”
Nancy stopped.
“Told me what?”
“About the leaves.”
Nancy turned slowly.
“No.”
Harold stared at his cup.
“I asked her to clear them.”
Nancy’s face went blank.
“What?”
“The path.”
“You asked her to use the blower?”
“I asked her to keep the leaves off the path.”
“You know I hate that noise.”
“Yes.”
“And you still—”
“I almost fell twice.”
Nancy froze.
“When?”
“September.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time I tell you I almost fall, my world gets six inches smaller.”
Nancy stared.
“That is unfair.”
“Is it?”
“I moved here for you.”
“I know.”
“I sold our house for you.”
“I know.”
“I handle your appointments.”
“I know.”
“Your medication.”
“I know.”
“Your therapy.”
“I know.”
Her voice broke.
“And you go behind my back to the neighbor?”
Harold looked up.
“No.”
“I asked somebody for help with leaves.”
Nancy sat.
For the first time, she seemed smaller.
“I thought she was doing it because she knew it bothered me.”
Harold sighed.
“You think a lot of people do things because of you.”
Nancy looked hurt.
“That’s cruel.”
“Maybe.”
He leaned back.
“But think about it.”
“The delivery truck isn't blocking you personally.”