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principals from her schools. They’d done a district-wide fund-raiser for Amanda’s Pantry. We had hundreds of gently worn coats, hats, and gloves to distribute from the food pantry for the coming winter. We called the offshoot Amanda’s Closet.
    “Thanks, honey,” Mom said.
    “Thank you. I—”
    I didn’t have a chance to say more than that because people started to arrive. I positioned myself at the door and greeted everyone. The first year I instituted the name tag rule and in retrospect it was a godsend. Most of the people who came out for our annual dinner were people I saw once a year.
    Let’s face it; writers who spend most of their time in holey jeans aren’t the type to mingle with the city’s elite. But my parents ran in educational circles, and slowly local businesses and the political hierarchy had become involved with Amanda’s Pantry.
    Some of the people were easy to identify and put a name to the face, some not so much. The mayor had been coming to our events since before he was mayor, along with city council members, the chief of police, his deputy chief, and captains. There were representatives from the fire department and water authority, too.
    We’d been so lucky that each year there were more and more people who supported us and came out to the event.
    This year, Ned’s law firm had come as well.
    I smiled at the thought, knowing full well that the attorneys Ned worked for certainly didn’t think of themselves as working at Ned Chesterfield’s law firm , but in my mind, the firm was his. It was all about perspective.
    I stood next to the door for a half hour, thanking people for coming, pointing to the bar. Helping direct them to the appropriate tables.
    Ned came in with Mela on his arm. He looked great in his suit, and Mela looked gorgeous . . . and knew it.
    Ned shot me a grin that said he was already teasing me in his mind. “You tamed it.”
    I shook my head, and I swear that strands of my hair popped out of my bun just to mock me as I said, “I tried.”
    Ned laughed and kissed my cheek.
    Mela smiled at me, but beneath her upturned lips, I saw something else. It was a look that said she was staking her claim. She wanted to be sure I understood Ned was hers. We’d made a truce of sorts. She tolerated my friendship with Ned but sent me little reminders that he was hers.
    If she’d asked me, I’d have assured her that I didn’t need her reminder.
    And beyond that, I might have mentioned that I was pretty sure Ned wouldn’t want to have any claim staked on him.
    But she didn’t ask and I didn’t offer.
    We had a weird relationship, Mela and I. She was always very nice to my face, but beneath the smiling facade, her dislike was palpable, and I also knew there was nothing I could do to change that.
    She simply couldn’t or wouldn’t believe that I didn’t have designs on Ned.
    I wasn’t sure what I could do to make her feel better about it, other than ignoring him, and I wasn’t going to do that. He was a good neighbor. We were friendly, but certainly not best friends. But I’d grown accustomed to, and looked forward to, our talks and our occasional X-Files nights. Visiting and teasing Ned had become a welcome part of my daily routine.
    He was the kind of neighbor I could call at midnight if I heard something bumping outside . . . or worse, something bumping inside.
    Ultimately, I decided that it was Mela’s problem, not mine, and simply tried to be nice.
    “You look lovely tonight, Mela,” I said, meaning it.
    Her smile remained in place, as if she’d glued it on and didn’t dare let it slip because if she did, her true feelings would explode from her tight grip on them.
    “You look . . . uh good , too, Piper.”
    She’d made sure there was the slightest hesitation as she searched for the thesaurus-worthy word good . I was sure Ned hadn’t noticed it, but I had. I knew that had been Mela’s intent.
    Mela gave me a regal nod before practically dragging Ned toward