"Congratulations."
"I know everyone on this block."
"Apparently not."
Her jaw tightened.
"I know the woman who owns this house."
The homeowner almost laughed.
That was technically true.
His wife did own the house.
So did he.
Both names were on the deed.
But the neighborhood directory listed only hers because she had completed the original association paperwork before they moved in.
The woman smiled confidently.
"She's not you."
He crossed his arms.
"No."
"Exactly."
"She's my wife."
The woman froze.
Only for a second.
Then she shook her head.
"No."
The homeowner raised his eyebrows.
"No?"
"No."
He stared.
She continued.
"She is not married to you."
Now he actually laughed.
It came out before he could stop it.
The woman flushed.
"You think this is funny?"
"A little."
"You're lying."
"About my wife?"
"About living here."
The homeowner picked up his gloves.
"Believe whatever you want."
He reached for the trimmer.
The woman immediately raised her phone.
"I'm calling the police."
He stopped.
He looked at the phone.
Then at her.
"For what?"
"Trespassing."
The homeowner glanced toward the house again.
Then back.
"On my own property."
"You haven't proven that."
"I don't have to prove ownership to someone standing on the sidewalk."
The woman unlocked her phone.
"You will to the police."
He nodded.
"Okay."
His calmness seemed to irritate her.
She had expected panic.
Maybe anger.
Maybe an apology.
Instead, he simply put the glove back on.
"You're really going to keep working?"
"Yes."
"I'm calling them."
"Okay."
She stared.
Then dialed.
The homeowner turned the trimmer back on.
The buzzing motor resumed.
The woman stepped farther onto the sidewalk.
He could see her speaking into the phone.
Her free hand moved dramatically.
She pointed toward him several times.
He could not hear every word over the trimmer.
He caught fragments.
"Suspicious man."
"Private residence."
"Refuses to leave."
"Large tool."
He shut the trimmer off again.
Large tool.
That phrase mattered.
He walked several feet away from the trimmer and left it on the ground.
Then he pulled his phone from his pocket.
He did not call anyone.
He started recording.
The woman noticed.
"Are you filming me?"
"Yes."
"You don't have permission."
"We're outside."
"You can't record private conversations."
"You're standing on a public sidewalk."
She turned away dramatically.