Officer Denway didn’t budge but gave him a condescending look. “That is confidential information, sir. During daytime hours, complaints can still be made for unreasonable noise.”
The rooster brought an end to his siege on the house and began making a wide circle around the police car as if casing it. He was silent now.
Gerrit glared at the foul fowl, trying to contain the anger expanding in his chest. “He gets worked up sometimes, but I won’t let it happen again.”
Because he was going to chop his filthy head off with an ax. He’d have a hard time disturbing the peace with no head.
Officer Denway nodded. “I’d appreciate that. I’m not going to write up a citation or anything this time, but I don’t want to get called out here again, okay?”
He acted like he was doing Gerrit some sort of big favor. How old was this guy? Thirty-two? Where did he come off talking to Gerrit as though he were a little kid? Couldn’t he see Gerrit was twice his age?
Gerrit’s fists clenched, but he grunted his agreement and took a step back so Officer Denway could climb back into his patrol car. No use causing more of a scene. Hannie would kill him if he got arrested.
As the officer turned the patrol car around, Gerrit silently willed him to run the rooster over, but Bernard nimbly avoided the vehicle’s tires.
Gerrit waited until the police car drove away, then raised his voice. “What’s your problem, George? You had to call the cops because of my rooster?”
George slid out from behind a tree where he had no doubt been watching the whole time. “The noise was out of control, Gerrit. The rooster wouldn’t stop. And my daughter’s here visiting, trying to rest.”
Gerrit took five menacing steps toward his neighbor. “You couldn’t just ask me to shut him up?”
George didn’t flinch. “You weren’t home.”
“You could’ve called. I would’ve come back.”
“I tried.”
Gerrit’s hands curled into fists again. His phone. He’d left it sitting on the kitchen counter. “You knew I’d be back eventually.”
“I didn’t know when.” George shrugged, unfazed. “And Mallory needed to take a nap. Her doctor says she’s been spending too much time on her feet. It’s not good for the baby.”
George’s defense of his daughter did nothing to cool Gerrit’s anger. It was bad enough the way they’d ended up as neighbors. Bad enough George had never once said he was sorry for what had happened that day at the farm. Now he would stoop this low to pay him back for the way Bernard ran him off the other day?
He glared at his neighbor.
“Maybe you should bring Daisy with you next time you’re out so this doesn’t happen again.” George smiled. “You’re supposed to be watching her, aren’t you?”
He lifted a hand in farewell and hurried back to his house before Gerrit could respond. Not that he wanted to. Mere words would never be a strong enough reply for today’s indignity.
Only actions would even the score.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
Rae covered up a yawn. It was her own fault she had to be at school by six-fifteen on a Monday morning. She’d had to settle for the last available drive time.
“You’re going to do great.” Her mom pulled into the school’s lot and put the car in park. “Remember what Dad said about being confident.”
Rae nodded. She remembered. She also remembered the meaningful look Dad gave Mom when he said it, as if he held her personally responsible for Rae’s success—or lack thereof—behind the wheel.
“Did you remember to grab your lunch? I set it by the door.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Your hair’s a little bumpy.” She smoothed her hand over Rae’s head. “Do you have time to redo your ponytail?”
Rae resisted the urge to roll her eyes and remind Mom she was almost sixteen. “I’ll fix it after the drive.”
“Okay.” Mom leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “Have a good day. I love you.”
“Love you too.” She grabbed her backpack and climbed out of the car. She should be thankful. Mom only wanted what was best for her. That was the whole point of The Plan, wasn’t it? But sometimes she wasn’t sure if the person Mom and Dad saw and the person staring back at her in the mirror every day were the same. Sometimes both seemed like strangers.
The Driver’s Ed. car idled in front of the main entrance, and Mr. Fletcher stood beside it, arms crossed. The two other students who were supposed to drive with them this morning had not yet arrived.
“Good morning, Miss Walters.” The sour look on Mr. Fletcher’s face made it clear he was not a morning person. “Any idea where your fellow classmates might be?”
She shook her head. It figured she would be stuck standing here with this grump, waiting on Rob and Izzy. They probably couldn’t stop making out long enough to drive over here.
Mr. Fletcher drummed his bicep with his fingers and scowled at the road. She tried to avoid eye contact, not wanting to accidentally start a conversation. As she examined the school, as though greatly interested in its architecture, a dark figure lurking around the side of the building caught her attention. She turned to look closer, and he slipped around the corner and disappeared. But not before she’d gotten a pretty good look.
Morgan. It had to be him. Who else wore that hoodie every day? Who else walked hunched over like that?
What was he doing here this early?
The slam of a car door drew her attention away. Rob sauntered toward her and Mr. Fletcher. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and had one arm draped over Izzy’s shoulders.
“You do know your driver’s permit requires you to have an adult in the car when you drive, right?” Mr. Fletcher waved an arm at Rob’s car. “The rules are there for a reason.”
It was a favorite saying of his. He and Dad would get along well. Izzy elbowed Rob’s ribs and giggled,
