“Why three?”
“First locksmith was too expensive.”
“That does not explain three.”
“Second lock was ugly.”
I laughed.
“Fair.”
She looked at my new front door.
“That one could stop a tank.”
“It’s a door.”
“Arthur, it has more steel than my first car.”
I smiled.
We sat quietly.
Then she asked, “Do you regret it?”
“What?”
“Not giving them the key.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“The porch?”
I knew what she meant.
Did I regret opening the door?
Fighting.
The shooting.
Everything after.
“That is a harder question.”
Mrs. Bell waited.
“I wish Darren never came.”
“Of course.”
“I wish Brenda never invented the policy.”
She nodded.
“I wish he had put the gun away.”
Another nod.
“But once he pointed it at me?”
I looked toward the repaired beam.
“I did what I believed I had to do.”
Mrs. Bell took a sip.
“That sounds different from no regret.”
