Free Cemetery of Angels by Noel Hynd

young woman at the edge of her driveway. Rebecca had never seen her before.
    “Hello,” Rebecca answered. The woman stood twenty feet away.
    “Just move in? I’m one of your neighbors. I thought I’d stop and be your best new friend.” Rebecca smiled. She walked toward the woman.
    Her visitor was thin with short blond hair and fair skin. A pretty face with freckles. She wore blue jean shorts and a pale pink T-shirt. A thin gold chain circled her neck and hung at the top of the shirt. At first Rebecca thought she was perhaps college age because she had a young figure with long tan legs. But then, immediately, Rebecca drew a second impression, one that told her that the visitor was maybe ten years older than that. Early thirties.
    “I’m Melissa Ford,” the visitor said. “I’ve been watching you.”
    “You have?” Melissa smiled and set Rebecca at ease.
    “In a neighborly way,” she continued. “I live two doors down.” She pointed at the house two doors away where the yellow convertible had just disappeared. 2141 Topango.
    “I’m Rebecca Moore,” Rebecca said. “I’m happy to meet you.”
    “I was out walking. I thought I’d stop and say hello,” Melissa Ford said.
    “Thanks. I thought I just saw your, uh…”
    “Roommate. That’s June. Big blond bitch. She just drove by, right?”
    “Right.”
    “And you went to wave, and June didn’t see you.”
    “You were watching carefully,” Rebecca said.
    “June’s antisocial,” Melissa said “She does rude stuff like that all the time. She didn’t wave to me, either.”
    “Then I won’t take offense.”
    “There was none intended.” Melissa glanced toward 2141 and then back to Rebecca.
    “I’ve seen you going in and out,” Melissa said. “You’ve got two nice looking children and either a husband or a boyfriend or some sort of fulltime stud muffin. I don’t care which.”
    “It’s a traditional setup,” Rebecca said. “That’s Bill, and he’s my husband. You?”
    “I have a roommate,” Melissa said. “June. Nontraditional, maybe you’d call it. I don’t know.”
    “Do you work in the neighborhood?”
    “I was on the adjunct faculty at UCLA,” Melissa Ford said. “American Civilization. My concentration was on California in the early twentieth century.”
    “Was?”
    “Modern life,” she said. “Recession. Budget cuts. I was terminated.”
    “Oh. Sorry.” An awkward pause. Rebecca wasn’t sure what to say. “Well, it sounds like a fascinating field. I’m sure you’ll find something else.”
    “Yeah. Starbuck’s for the time being. But hey. I don’t sweat the small stuff. Life happens. I like California, so I’ve made a commitment to stay. I came here in the mid-nineties. Drove out all by my lonesome in a Volvo station wagon and a degree in American Civilization from Sarah Lawrence. Decided I liked California, not Sarah Lawrence, so I stayed. I studied and got a gig at UCLA.”
    “Sounds fascinating,” Rebecca said. “I’m impressed.” Rebecca locked her car and turned to her friend.
    “Want to come in for a minute? I’ve got coffee. Ice tea. Soda. Anything you want.” Melissa seemed surprised. Rebecca could see it in her eyes.
    “I’d really like that,” Melissa said. “Thanks.”
    Rebecca led the way into the house. The small talk continued. Melissa was the type who told her entire life story within the first five minutes of one’s first meeting her. Rebecca didn’t mind at all. The conversation drifted back to the adjunct faculty position at UCLA by the time they reached the kitchen.
    “Teaching beats answering telephones in an office, which is what a lot of Am Civ graduates end up doing,” Melissa said. “Have you met Dr. Lerner yet?”
    “No. Who’s that?”
    Melissa eased into a stainless steel and plastic chair at the kitchen table. She moved her head to indicate a house four doors down Topango Gardens on the north side of the street.
    “Maurice Lerner,” Melissa said as Rebecca