Neighborly

Percilla peeked out of the curtains, a thin-lipped smile crossing her face. The house across the street had gone up for sale back in May, the white and red sign sprouting up right beside old Miss Marta’s begonias. It had gone a month later.

Miss Marta had been a lovely woman, always rocking and humming on that expansive porch of hers, but now it was time for someone new. Some excitement.

The whistling of the kettle pulled Percilla out of her thoughts and away from the window. Pulling the thick curtain snug against the window frame, she set off towards the kitchen, bounding down the hallway, fluffy slippers thwacking the mahogany floor with muted thuds. 

She reached, standing on the tips of her toes, to retrieve a tea cup from the glass cupboard, a lilac pattern decorating its rim. Plucking up a teabag and pouring the water, she wondered just who this new neighbor would be. Maybe he’ll be cute? She shakes her head, giggling slightly at the idea. Harrowsbrook has been a very solid mix of elderly, original homeowners and young, married couples seeking a safe community with nice schools to raise a family. Not many bachelors.

She slips out of her chair, opening a drawer to sift through its contents. Satisfied, she plucks up a wand, twirling it in her fingers, before heading back. Dipping it into the steaming contents of her cup, she gives it a whirl, mumbling a few words of magic. The liquid burbles, turning an off-shade of magenta.

“Oops.” She chuckles, heading over to the sink to dump the overly-infused concoction. It’s a good thing she keeps a couple ruins down there. She could only imagine the sparkling, floating fish there would be if she didn’t.

Smiling, she reaches for another cup.

The noise across the street continued for several hours, without so much as a glimpse of the new homeowner. Percilla had sat in her front room, curtains drawn, with the exception of her periodic peeking.

From the comfort of her velvet wing chair, a fuzzy blanket pulled over her lap, and an inconspicuous cup of tea in hand, she idly flipped through one of the many books that littered her library.

Even when staring at its pages, she was occupied with thoughts of this mysterious new neighbor. The movers had long ago started unloading furniture and boxes from their truck, going back and forth with large items like ants bringing food for the colony.

She was fascinated. She saw no playscapes or toys. All the items she saw were classy and antiquated. Additionally, there was no sign of whether the neighbor was a man or woman. It did not look like a couple was moving in.

Usually, with new couples, at least one of them would show up to direct the movers at their whim. They would say where they wanted their all-too-pricy sofa to go and exactly where their polished table should be set. Not this person.

She could see as the main mover scratched his head, staring at a list. It was short, limited to a single sheet of paper. The letters were too small to be discerned from this distance, but she was sure that it said something along the lines of “just get it in.”

She saw some of the other neighbors stop by. Charlot Loraine approached from the left as cordially as ever, her two young children toddling behind her. With a cheery and too-wide smile on her face, she greeted the movers. She must have inquired about the new neighbor too, because the mover shrugged and gestured to the house, the truck, and then the list, once again held in his grasp.

She must have realized she would not be able to glean anymore information from them, so she motioned to her children to follow her, and they all went toddling off as she pondered how best to twist the few tidbits she gained into interesting gossip.

The Nithercotts had wandered by, hand-in-hand, waving and glancing through the windows as they passed. Mr. Reinfelt stopped to chat, his cane clicking against the concrete as he went. Even Suzana, Markus Herold’s sister, came around, a freshly baked tin of cookies in her arms.

Percilla herself thought of joining them, pulling back her toffee-colored hair into a half-bun, slipping on her boots, and snagging her floppy sunhat from its hook, but alas, she did not. That would send the wrong message—maybe not to her new neighbor, but most definitely to the old ones.

Percilla was not a people person, at least not in the typical sense. She had no problem with people—not most of them anyway. She was very interested in people. They just tended to be more interested in her.

You could not be a proper witch and not draw unwanted attention while out and about. There is just something about them that catches the average person’s eye.

Percilla had tried to make normal friends before. The long and short of it is that it did not end well, at all. She decided to stick to making friends within the community after that. That is how she met Gloria.

Percilla had been ashamed at the time for asking her mother to set her up with friends, but she harbored no regrets over meeting Gloria Paisley. The blonde had been her anchor, and she was hers.

Percilla half-pondered calling up Gloria to discuss the novelty but decided against it. It would not do to interrupt her date. She took a sip of tea, glancing at the curtain.

The movers had finished packing up several minutes ago. From the little gap in the curtain, Percilla could see the main mover, now pacing about with his phone to his ear. Maybe his client is asking about their progress. She would not know.

She lifts her glass to her lips, only to nearly spit it out, soiling her comfortable blouse. Tragedy avoided, she turned to glare at the too-loud chime. She had always hated that doorbell, though she never bothered to change it. It was not used frequently enough to motivate her to replace it. Speaking of which, who actually bothered to ring that thing?

She peered out the window, noting the receding frame of the mailman. Setting aside her book and tea, Percilla pushed herself to her feet. Traipsing over to her front door, she waited, giving ample time for the mailman to have moved on to other houses further down the street.

Certain of her solidarity, Percilla opened the door, stepping out just long enough to reach into her mailbox and retreat indoors with the parcel.

With the door closed firmly behind her, Percilla examined the object: a crisp white envelope, sealed with an actual wax seal.

Percilla let out a low whistle. Fancy, but obviously not from someone she knows. Flipping it over, she found out why.

Oliver Harrison. The letter was addressed to Oliver Harisson, and the address listed lined up with the house across the street. Hello, neighbor, it is nice to make your acquaintance.

She shakes her head. She should not, really, but she cannot help it. With a skip in her step, she made for her office, searching through drawers until she found a letter opener. She could always use a bit of magic to seal it back up. No harm, no foul.

She drew the paper against the blade, leaving a neat cut across the envelope. Freeing the content from its container, she poured over the message.

Acknowledgement? Of? Oh. Oh!

She grinned, almost bouncing as she clutched the paper close to her chest.

Her new neighbor is so much more exciting than what she was expecting!