The woman checking for IDs lazily reached for mine. Suddenly my fingers wouldn’t work. My hands seemed to have grown three sizes, or maybe my wallet...shrunk three but either way my fingers were tripping all over each other and then as if in slow motion I could see my wallet tumbling out of my hands in a swan dive for the ground before landing with a thud and spilling its contents across the floor. I could feel my cheeks flushing as I knelt down to scoop up my credit cards and receipts splayed. It was our neighbor. Our tall, handsome, athletic neighbor whohad bought the house next door because his work had moved him here andhe expected to be kept in our area for a few years. Our smiling,easygoing, bachelor neighbor. We had his drill, but I wasn't the onewho had hung the shadowbox. It was Arianna. She was handy with homerepairs and such, and I was handy with cosmetics, panties, stockings andgarter belts.As I cowered there she said, "Just give me a minute." Then, I supposefrom. More

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