The Perfect Neighbors Read Online Free PDF

stomach pumped, all because of Tessa’s inattention. The doctor’s expression had changed as he’d stared at her, probably wondering if she was one of those women who faked her children’s illnesses to get attention. Then he’d walked away without a single word.
    As Tessa had left the hospital, Harry had called her cell phone, responding to the frantic message she’d left.
    â€œI’ll fly back tonight,” he’d said, even after she’d reassured him that Bree was safe. Tessa had wondered if he still trusted her with their baby.
    She’d hung up and looked around. To her left was a big parking lot; to her right, a busy street. But there were no cabs in sight, and even if she’d spotted one, it wouldn’t have a car seat. She had no idea how she was going to get home.
    She felt her throat constrict. I’m sorry , she’d thought, looking down at her baby.
    A moment later, Bree had begun to screech in her arms.
    Six months later, Tessa called 911 again.

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    Chapter Four
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    Newport Cove Listserv Digest
    *Re: Dog Poop
    I’d just like to second Mrs. Reiserman’s point about cleaning up after your dog. Oftentimes, dog walkers will drop a bag of poop in my trash can if it is by the curb on trash day. Whilst this might seem like an appropriate way to clean up after your dog, let me assure you it is not. If the can has already been emptied, these small bags end up on the bottom, where they can become stuck. The stench is most unpleasant. —Tally White, Iris Lane
    *Re: Dog Poop
    It’s MS. Reiserman, not MRS. Reiserman. —Joy Reiserman, Daisy Way
    *Lawn Bags!
    Large brown lawn bags will be distributed to all Newport Cove residents on Saturday, Sept. 18 to assist with your leaf collection throughout the fall season. If you would prefer to not have bags delivered, please simply reply to Newport Cove Manager Shannon Dockser (no need to “reply all” to the entire listserv!). Thanks! —Sincerely, Shannon Dockser, Newport Cove Manager
    *Re: Lawn Bags!
    I don’t want any lawn bags. I burn my leaves. —Mason Gamerman, Daisy Way
    *Re: Lawn Bags!
    It’s far more efficient to simply mow your leaves when you’re cutting your grass. No need to risk injuring your back by raking and bagging. —Tally White, Iris Lane
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    â€œI’ll be back around nine, nine thirty at the latest,” Kellie told Jason as she looked in the mirror and fastened on a silver hoop earring.
    â€œSure you will,” he said. He was lounging on their queen-sized bed, flicking through television channels. Kellie had shepherded the kids through homework and dinner before getting them changed into their pj’s. Now they were eating bowls of vanilla ice cream in the kitchen.
    â€œNo, I’ll be early,” Kellie said. “I have to work in the morning, remember?”
    Jason didn’t respond; he’d settled on the Discovery Channel where a lion was selecting a dinner entrée from a revolving buffet of antelope and zebra. Jason had shed his clothes like a snakeskin on the floor, and Kellie suppressed a sigh as she bent down to pick up his Levi’s and red polo shirt with the logo of the small hardware store he co-owned with his father. Kellie tossed the shirt and jeans into the laundry hamper in the closet. Jason had a half dozen identical shirts; he wouldn’t need to wear this one to work tomorrow.
    â€œIf you could get the kids to put their stuff in the dishwasher,” she said.
    â€œSure, just a sec,” he said. She looked at him lying there in his blue boxers and white athletic socks, the only man she’d ever loved. Ever slept with. Sometimes, days—entire weeks, even!—would pass when she’d be so distracted by the busy rhythm of their lives that she’d hardly register her husband’s presence. Then, bam! At the most unexpected times, she’d be drawn up short by