My neighbor invited 25 people to watch Halloween fireworks from my rooftop, even after I told her no. She had no idea the terrace was dangerously damaged. When I saw her guests heading upstairs, I called 911. But before I could warn them, a terrifying crack came from above. What had happened?
The first stranger walked past my kitchen window carrying a folding chair.
The second had a cooler.
When I saw a woman carrying two champagne bottles through my side gate, I knew something was terribly wrong.
Then I heard footsteps on the staircase leading to my rooftop.
I rushed outside and found my neighbor Karen directing people upstairs.
“Karen! What are you doing?”
She turned, smiling as though I’d come to welcome her guests.
“Everyone’s arriving a little early. Isn’t this exciting?”
“Get them down. Right now.”
Her smile disappeared.
“Oh, Evelyn. Don’t start.”
I was 52, and I’d lived in that three-story house for almost 20 years.
