My Neighbor Reported My 79-Year-Old Father’s Garden. When the Inspector Returned at Six A.M., He Discovered Who the Harvest Was Really For
Chad opened the door wearing a crisp golf shirt and dark trousers while holding a glass of red wine.
He looked at me with mild curiosity, as if trying to place my face.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked politely.
“I am Kristin Callahan,” I said firmly.
“Bernard’s daughter from next door.”
A brief flicker of recognition crossed his features before his face smoothed into a neutral mask.
“Ah, yes.
How can I help you?”
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