The Haunted by Bentley Little Page B

There’d been no welcome wagon when they’d arrived, no one had come over to say hello, and though Claire had made an effort to stop by the houses on both sides that first week, no one had been home. Things had been so hectic ever since, what with the unpacking and settling in, that they’d kind of forgotten about introducing themselves to the neighbors.
    Julian thought about the Willet boy and his skate-punk friends in their old neighborhood and decided that they really should try to get off on the right foot here. Today was as good a day as any, since they had no plans and would all be home. The toaster rang; he took out his bagels, buttered them, put them on a plate and walked barefoot into the backyard to discuss his thoughts with Claire. She, too, thought it would be a good idea to meet the neighbors, and they decided to visit the houses to either side of them around ten o’clock. It was a civilized hour, not too early, not too late.
    Before taking a shower, Julian told both kids the plan, warning them not to go anywhere, and though they each moaned and complained in their own unique ways, there was no real resistance, and he could tell that they were curious about the neighbors as well. There didn’t seem to be any kids on the street—a good thing, as far as he was concerned—but these days who could tell? The surrounding houses might be filled with boys and girls who spent their days bent over their DSs or playing with their Wiis or Xboxes, never seeing sunlight. In a way, he hoped that was the case. Especially for James’s sake. It would be nice for the boy to have a friend next door.
    Shortly after ten, all four of them walked over to the house on the north side of theirs, a single-story structure with an unimaginative but well-maintained lawn and animpressive picture window in the front. There was no vehicle in the driveway, but that didn’t mean the neighbors weren’t home. Maybe they parked their car in the garage. Or maybe the husband or the wife had gone to the store, and the remaining spouse was still at home. Or maybe they had a teenage son or daughter who had borrowed the family car to go somewhere with his or her friends.
    Thinking over the possibilities, Julian was struck not just by how little he knew about their neighbors but by how pathetically unobservant he was. They could be living next to a ninety-year-old widow, or a twenty-five-year-old bachelor, or a gay couple or an extended family of Chinese immigrants, and he wouldn’t know—even though he worked at home and was there almost all the time. It was embarrassing, really, and he vowed in the future to be a little more aware and try to pay attention to his surroundings.
    He let James ring the doorbell, and as they waited for someone to answer, Julian tried to peek through the picture window. The drapes were open, but it was dark inside the house and hard to see. He could make out a pale couch and a generic-looking lamp atop an unseen table.
    “I don’t think anyone’s home,” Claire said.
    Megan turned away. “Let’s go.”
    “Wait a minute.” Julian knocked on the door—loudly, in case the bell didn’t work and the residents were in the back of the house—then knocked again, but after several moments it became obvious that Claire was right. There was no one home.
    “Other neighbors,” Julian announced, and led the way back up the footpath to the sidewalk. The house on the other side of theirs
did
have a car in the driveway, he saw as they approached. A silver Toyota sedan that toldhim virtually nothing about the owners. He looked over the house. It was two stories and similar in style to theirs, the only other home on this eclectic block that appeared to have been built by the same contractor.
    Claire and the kids followed Julian as he strode up to the front door. Before he could even knock or ring the bell, the door was opened by a smiling bearded man his age or a little younger who was standing slightly in front of a short,