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oxymoron, but it made me realize I’d definitely made some hasty judgments because of her accent and bad grammar. “Did you ever miss school? Regret dropping out?”
    “Oh, I got my GED soon as I hooked up with Zach,” she said, matter-of-fact. “He insisted.”
    Good for Zach.
    “I’m startin’ college in the fall,” she said with pride. “Got me a scholarship to Oglethorpe.”
    Wonders never ceased.
    “What about Zach?” I prodded.
    She glanced back toward the sound of the Braves game, then told me in a confidential tone, “This is supposed to be a deep, dark secret, but seein’ as we’re neighbors, I’m gonna trust you.” She shot another glance at the hallway door to make sure Zach wasn’t coming, then said, “Don’t let on, but he’s got his MBA. From Hah- vahd.” She mimed locking her lips.
    I was properly shocked, but that explained his cultured accent.
    Then she dropped another little surprise. “Went to work for one of them huge Fortune Five Hundred military-industrial companies, but they used him for a slave and tried to kill his soul. So he finally just dropped out.” She straightened, her features clearing as she draped one arm over the chair. “Never looked back,” she said with pride. “Plumbin’ suits him a lot better. He gits to help people who need him, and he says at least he can be honest shovelin’ the shit fer real. Plus, no pressure.” She grinned. “’Cept water pressure, of course.”
    Harvard?
    “I knew that would set you back on your heels,” Kat said with glee.
    “What would?” Zach asked, his question preceding him into the kitchen.
    Kat went scarlet. “Just girl talk. Never you mind.” She pointed to the plate of pork chops. “Why don’t you grill them chops fer Betsy?” She looked to me. “He’s great with the grill. If he wasn’t, we’d both starve.”
    I handed Zach the plate with new respect, but couldn’t resist cautioning, “They’re better if they’re not too well done. Well, they do need to be done, but not dry.”
    He grinned, carefully keeping the food away from his beard. “Done, but not dry, comin’ up.”
    While he was doing that, I finished the salads, then hesitated before setting the table. They’d probably feel bad if they knew I’d already eaten, so I decided to set myself a place too. Once everything was done, I put the salads and the bowl of butter peas on the table, then lit the candles.
    “Candles?” Kat protested mildly. “You don’t have to use up yer good candles fer us. We’re just grateful to be here.”
    “‘Treat royalty like friends and friends like royalty,’” I quoted, snapping the lighter off. “I love making things special.”
    Kat peered at me in assessment. “Bless yer heart. Nobody ever made things special fer you, did they?”
    In one brief conversation, she’d gotten closer to the truth than any of my other so-called friends. “I just like to do things for people,” I blustered. “Strictly selfish. Makes me feel good.”
    Fortunately, Zach arrived with the pork chops, and the conversation shifted to eating. During supper, I steered the topic to the development, and we shared what we’d heard or seen about potential buyers and the beginnings of the swim/tennis club. Both Zach and Kat turned out to be quite witty, and we all laughed a lot. By the end of the meal, something amazing had happened: I felt quite at home with these weirdos.
    So when I turned off my bedside light to watch the eleven o’clock news, I did so without a shred of fear. I didn’t even care if my guests were fornicating on the other side of the wall. After getting to know them, it didn’t matter so much. After all, their relationship was their business, really, and Christians aren’t supposed to judge.
    I couldn’t wait to tell Greg what had happened. Now that I knew all about the neighbors, he couldn’t get mad at me for rescuing them from the heat.
    The trouble was, I only thought I knew them. Turns out, transparent