Then my lawn mower disappeared from the garage.

It reappeared a week later with an empty tank, a dull blade, and no explanation.

Again, I said nothing.

Three children, I told myself.

She’s busy.

Give her some grace.

Monica did the same thing to other people.

Frank, who lived across the street, once complained that she’d “borrowed” his ladder and forgotten to return it.

At the time, I laughed.

That was Monica.

She borrowed first and asked later.

Looking back, I should have understood that people rarely stop crossing boundaries when nobody ever makes them stop.

“Keep the peace, Eleanor,” I muttered.

I’d been telling myself that for years.

Then I looked at the bill again.

Two hundred and twenty-seven dollars.

For a woman who watched PBS, boiled one kettle a day, and didn’t even use the air conditioner much.

Something was consuming electricity.

And I was going to find out what.

One night, I couldn’t sleep.

Even my pills weren’t helping.