A wheel caught in the gap between the stones. I yanked.
The case tipped over and clothes spilled across the concrete.
Her silk scarf landed by a tire. Her lipstick rolled into the grass.
Diane shot up out of the lounge chair.
“That’s my room!”
“You didn’t want a room.”
I shoved the case toward the edge of the driveway.
“You wanted my house. You wanted my husband listening to you. You wanted the whole yard to watch you grind me down to the crazy lady. Now you get my driveway.”
The clothes flapped once in the wind.
She came at me screaming. Mark caught her.
“Nora, you’re going too far.”
“Too far?”
I looked at him.
“The deed’s in my name. You moved your mother in. You eat my food, you use my house, and now you’re asking me if I’m going too far?”
