I have a new neighbor at the end of the street. I've been told her name is joy, but I can't be certain since I've never actually met her, much to my annoyance. I've taken to calling her the "Mystery Lady," or ML for short.

In a town as small as Nubbins you're bound to run into most people eventually. And everyone else I know is practically best friends with ML! My friend Grace, who works in the library, said she met ML there and she gave Grace some great advice about an herbal tea to help her sleep. Grace claims she sleeps like a baby now. My friend Myrtle, who's a real estate agent, helped ML rent the house at the end of the street and tells me she thinks ML and I would get along splendidly.

"How can I get along splendidly with someone I've never even met?" I responded irritably.

Even Johnny Mac, the fifth-grader I'm tutoring in reading and writing, talks constantly about the newest member if our neighborhood. Of course he's suspicious of her - thinks she's a spy.

"Why else would somebody like her move to Nubbins?" he asked.

"There are plenty of reasons why someone would move to a beautiful small town like ours," I told him, though I couldn't think of any, just then.

It's not like I haven't tried to meet ML. I've stopped by several times to say hello, but she's never been at home. The last time I even took a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies. I should explain that when I say "homemade," I mean "made at home by somebody," although that somebody was not me. Johnny Mac's mother, LuAnn, made them and brought them to me as a thank you gift for tutoring Johnny Mac. After I ate four in a row (they were still warm, for heaven's sake!), I decided I had to get rid of them. I immediately thought of ML.

Even though ML's house was close by, I drove over so I could run a few errands afterward. When I got there I immediately saw there was no car in the driveway, but I got out anyway with the cookies, convincing myself her car might be in the shop. I walked up the path and then the stairs leading up to the front door. I knocked a couple of times and listened to the sound rattle around the empty house. I was getting ready to leave when I noticed there was no curtain over the big front window. Before I could stop myself, I found I was peering into ML's living room.

The room didn't hold much furniture - just one overly stuffed, cherry-red armchair with matching stool and a table and lamp beside it. Otherwise the room was full of books and exotic artwork - colorful paintings on the walls and bizarre sculptures lining the mantelpiece and bookshelves. I was glaring in to get a better look when a voice behind me said, "She ain't home."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I whirled around - somehow managing to hold on to the cookies - and found Johnny Mac standing at the bottom of the steps wearing sunglasses and what looked like a fishing cap pulled down over his ears and forehead. A pair of binoculars hung around his neck.

"Oh hi, Johnny Mac," I squeaked, clearing my throat. "I was just coming by to welcome our new neighbor. But I see you're right, she isn't at home. Too bad." I started down the steps. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer. Instead he said, "Pretty cool stuff she's got, huh?" nodding his head toward the window into which I had just been gawking.

"I really didn't notice," I lied. "I've got to run some errands, so I'll see you later Johnny Mac." I started walking toward the car.

"Are those chocolate chip cookies?" he asked, sniffing a little in my general direction, but not moving.

Uh oh, the spy had caught me. Best to go with the truth - it's easier to remember. "Why yes they are," I said. "In fact, your mother just brought them over to my house. They were so fabulous I thought the new neighbor might like to try a few-you know, sharing and all that. Oh well, she'll miss out." I paused. "Would you like some?"

"Sure," he said, taking two when I held the plate out to him. He seemed unconcerned that I was giving away his mother's gift to me, but LuAnn might think differently. I wondered if he would mention it to her, or for that matter, what if he told ML I'd been snooping in her window? Oh well, too late now. "See you later," he said, skipping off into the woods behind the house.

I sighed and got in the car, the plate of cookies sitting next to me, staring up in delicious triumph. There had to be a lesson in here somewhere-something about letting relationships evolve naturally rather than forcing them, or minding your own business. I sighed again and stuffed another cookie in my mouth, enjoying it immensely.

Or perhaps the lesson was simply "Never try to resist a warm, homemade, chocolate chip cookie. Just dig in and enjoy."

")