Slice by William Patterson

be good guests, too,” she told Piper. “Five more minutes, then let Abby have a turn.”
    Jessie was about to tell Heather “five minutes my ass” and order the little brat off the swing pronto. But she held her tongue. She didn’t want to cause friction with the neighbors on their first day of contact. Besides, she thought part of her anger was still, absurdly, rooted in the little scene back by the grill between she, Manning, and Inga.
    It seemed Heather had observed that interaction as well. “Tell me, Jessie,” she said, her voice reminiscent of a cat’s purr. “Does that girl you have working for you always pounce so quickly on available men?”
    Jessie laughed a little. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that Inga pounced. . . .”
    â€œNo? John walked into the yard and suddenly she was all over him.”
    Jessie looked at her old friend. Heather seemed upset, even jealous. This was getting crazier. What kind of effect did this John Manning have on women?
    â€œYou called him John,” Jessie said. “Do you know him well?”
    Heather averted her eyes. “We’re friendly. We’re neighbors, after all.”
    â€œMonica said he keeps to himself. I was surprised he came by today.”
    Heather was watching the conversation between Manning and Inga, still proceeding intensely beside the grill.
    â€œHe’s a lonely man,” Heather said. “His wife’s death really affected him. I’d hate to see some gold-digging teenager take advantage of him.”
    Jessie’s momentary pique at Inga dissipated and she came to her defense. “Inga is no gold digger, Heather. She’s a hardworking girl. All she did was tell Mr. Manning she was enjoying his book, and then was delighted to find he could speak German.”
    â€œI assume she’s in this country legally?” Heather asked, her eyes finally returning to Jessie.
    For a moment Jessie was flabbergasted. “Of course, she is,” she finally managed to respond.
    Heather just shrugged and walked away.
    â€œWheeee!” came the voice of little Piper, behind them on the swings.
    Jessie turned and made a beeline over to the kid.
    â€œOff,” she ordered.
    â€œBut my mommy said five minutes.”
    â€œYeah, and those five minutes are up. Off!”
    Piper let her feet touch the earth and then sprung off the swing. Jessie caught it in midair and motioned for Abby to get on.
    As Piper ran crying over to her mother, Ashton giggled. “Wanta race?” he asked Abby, who nodded, and soon they were off.
    Even as she kept up her running conversation in German with John Manning, Inga managed to grill the burgers, and soon everyone had one in their hands, except for Abby and Ashton, who kept up their swinging. A pouty Piper refused to eat, her big lower lip protruding, her little freckled face scrunched up like an old lady. Jessie noticed how Heather managed to get a seat next to John Manning at the picnic table, and how she whispered something in his ear. The handsome author seemed to pay no notice to what she said, keeping his attention on Inga. Heather seemed furious.
    What the hell was going on here?
    Jessie took a seat beside Aunt Paulette, who was applying relish to her burger—a veggie patty, since the older woman didn’t eat meat.
    â€œYou notice anything weird between Heather and Mr. Manning?” Jessie whispered.
    Her aunt lifted an eyebrow. “Gert Gorin was just telling me she’s seen Heather leaving Manning’s house several times late at night.”
    â€œGosh,” Jessie said, grinning despite herself. “The things those binoculars have seen.”
    â€œRemember to keep your blinds closed,” Aunt Paulette cautioned.
    Jessie was suddenly aware of Bryan sitting down beside her. With his wife trying—in vain—to get the attention of Mr. Manning, Bryan was apparently left free to make his own moves. And Jessie was