My farming next-door neighbors up and left unexpectedly, for good this time. Every fall they haul their harvest to the Pittsburg Farmers' Market to sell their veggies and fruit. But this year, this summer, something must've spooked them. I think it was their trailer. Ever since Tilly, Todd's wife, disappeared, their trailer's had a haunted feel to it. You don't even have to step inside, you can feel it just walking by (as I do every day). Anyway, the trailer sold, and the new owner moved in last week.
So I'm washing dishes at my kitchen sink when I see her through the window. She runs across her yard and leaps over my weed patch. Then I hear the frantic knock on my front door. Soon as I open it, she blurts out that her newly-purchased trailer has a sewer drain leak, her clothes dryer caught fire, and her stove is on the fritz. And she asks me to take a look at the blocks holding up the trailer. So I walk over there with her, and she drops to her knees and squeezes into the crawlspace. I shout after her that the bricks and shims don't look stable, but she doesn't answer. After a few minutes arguing with her to come on out, I leave. Didn't even catch her name.