When Victor Langley bought the massive brick house at the end of our street, the first thing everyone noticed wasn’t the mansion itself—it was the lawn. Perfectly trimmed grass stretched across the property like a green carpet, not a single blade out of place, bordered by white stones and carefully shaped hedges that looked like they had been measured with rulers.
Within a week, the rumors started.
“He’s a millionaire from the city,” my neighbor Tom said one afternoon while we watched a landscaping crew replace sections of grass that already looked flawless. “Bought the place in cash.”
