Read Over the Fence for Free Online

mug disappeared. After a few minutes, it reappeared, this time with the addition of a plate on top. Eagerly, I grabbed at it, almost giddy to find a toasted bagel with cream cheese waiting for me.
    “Yes,” I hissed as I took a bite.
    “Don’t get so excited, I was merely saving the fire department a trip. I think I’m actually scared of what you might do to a toaster.”
    I took another bite, chewed, and made a semi-growling noise toward the fence.
    “Excuse me?”
    “I’m purring.”
    “Oh. Is that what that was? I thought you had gas.”
    The coffee burned as I struggled not to choke on it while I sniggered.
    Gasping for air, I sat back; my bad morning suddenly became enjoyable. Kourtney was on a roll today.
    “Are you okay, Nathan?” she asked, concerned.
    “I’m good. Warn a guy before you’re gonna make him laugh, okay?”
    “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
    “And call me Nat.” I hesitated. “I like it when you call me Nat.”
    “Okay then . . . Nat.”
    Satisfied, I had another bite of the bagel.
    It was quiet for a short while. As I ate and took my time with the second mug of coffee, I heard the rhythmic clicking of keys being hit. Kourtney must be working on a laptop. After a few minutes the clicking got louder and there was an occasional low-muffled curse. Next came the unmistakable sound of a laptop being shut in frustration.
    “Problem, Chefgirl?”
    “I was trying to find some information,” she responded with a deep sigh.
    “Oh?”
    “My laptop is doing strange things and being all . . . wonky. It won’t let me get to my list of stuff—you know, the document list thing—and there’s a recipe I want. And my connection doodad is so slow and keeps dying. I need to take it somewhere and I was trying to find a computer repair shop.”
    I grinned at her distinctive description. Obviously, she didn’t know much about computers.
    “But?”
    “Well, because it’s acting so weird, it won’t let me. I can’t get to the internet to find a shop, so I guess I’ll have to drive around and look for one. Unless you can recommend a place?”
    “Why don’t you use your phone to find one?”
    “I don’t have a phone book. I haven’t picked one up yet.”
    “I mean your cell phone. You can get the internet on your phone.”
    “I don’t have a cell phone.”
    I gaped at the fence. “What?”
    “Yeah, I’m not much for technology.”
    “Hence the ‘wonky’ laptop?”
    “I guess.”
    Standing up, I went over to the fence. “Hand it over.”
    “What?”
    “You happen to live next door to the most brilliant IT man to ever walk the face of the Earth,” I informed her. “Give me your laptop and I’ll look at it.”
    “I can’t ask you to do that, Nat.”
    “You didn’t. I offered. Hand it over, Chefgirl. I promise I won’t steal your recipes.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Kourtney,” I began, now serious, “with all the generosity you’ve shown me since you moved in? The least I can do is look at your laptop.”
    She was silent.
    “Besides,” I teased, “sending you into a computer repair shop would be like throwing raw meat into a lion’s den. They’d eat you alive. Let me look at it.”
    Her footsteps were slow as she approached the fence. Her laptop slid across the top.
    “Thank you.”
    “I assume you have a password?” I asked as I reached for it.
    “Oh, yeah, it’s emptiness , and I used capital E and the number one for the ‘i.’ They always tell us to have a number and capital in our password at work.”
    Frowning, I paused. It wasn’t the word I’d have expected from her. Opening up the laptop, I typed in the password, took a quick look at the hard drive, and groaned at the mess.
    “When was the last time you defragged this?”
    “I de—did what?”
    I shook my head. “Your antivirus is expired. Do you know that?”
    “Oh, right. I meant to do something about getting a new one. But I found it all confusing and I couldn’t tell what I should