French Drains, Loving Your Enemies, and Pot Pie
The pounding on the door startled me. We hadn’t been home very long. Returning from my father-in-law’s funeral and all that entailed had been exhausting. My husband peeked through the glass. “Do you know this guy?” The man standing on the front porch gave off the vibe of a tightly coiled rattler. I shook my head. “Never seen him.” Todd …