Forty Strangers
I came home on a Friday at 4:47 p.m. and couldn't park in my own driveway.
Twelve cars filled the concrete. A catering van blocked half the sidewalk, and an SUV had been parked directly in front of my mailbox.
I'd been gone nine days in Charlotte for a client deposition. I had expected nothing more complicated than a cold drink, a quiet house, and an hour floating in my pool.
Instead, I parked three houses down.
I locked my car and walked toward 247 Magnolia Drive with my suitcase still in the trunk. The moment I cleared the hedge, I heard music.
Then laughter.
Then a child screaming with excitement.
Then the unmistakable splash of someone jumping into my pool.
I stopped.
My side gate was open.
It should have been locked.
I walked around the house and saw something that made me wonder if exhaustion had finally broken my brain.