fter 17 years of marriage, I never expected another woman to sit in my kitchen and calmly tell me she planned to take my husband. When Vanessa stopped hiding what she wanted, I decided arguing with her wouldn’t be nearly as effective as letting her think she was winning.
My husband, Irvin, and I had been married for 17 years when Vanessa moved into the house next door.
She was recently divorced, beautiful, confident, and alone.
At first, I felt sorry for her.
I baked her a “welcome to the neighborhood” pie. Apple, of course.
Vanessa moved into the house next door.