The Misdelivered Secret Between Arthur and the Girl Next Door

Jenkins from the corner with a jar of peach preserves.

The retired school principal from two streets over asking if I needed someone to sit in on “any family meetings.”

I did not.

But I appreciated the offer.

Kayla’s orders tripled.

Which was both wonderful and terrible.

“I can’t fill all these,” she said, staring at her phone in horror.

“Then don’t,” I continue reading …