Our Dream Home Had Palm Trees, Ocean Views… and the Neighbor from Hell
My name is Evelyn, but most people call me Evie. I’m 30 years old, married to Nate — a calm, spreadsheet-loving genius who somehow makes formulas look like poetry. We spent fifteen years working double shifts, skipping vacations, saving every extra penny. And finally, finally, we bought our dream house.
It was everything we wanted: a slice of heaven on the coast. Palm trees swaying in the breeze. The ocean just steps away. The air always smelled like sunshine and salt. I couldn’t believe it was ours. After all those years of sacrifice, we had made it.
But paradise came with a catch. And that catch was living right next door.
We hadn’t even been there a full week when it started.
I was unpacking boxes in the living room when I heard a loud knock at the door. Not just a friendly knock — the kind that makes the whole house shake. I opened it and there she was.
Bleach-blonde hair, big sunglasses, a flashy sundress. She didn’t smile. She just leaned against the doorframe and peeked inside like she was appraising our furniture.
“Hey there! I’m Tammy from next door,” she said, like she was already in charge. “Just wanted to let you know we’re throwing a barbecue this Saturday. Everyone uses the backyard, so we’ll be setting up around noon.”
I blinked, trying to process her words. “I’m Evie. Nice to meet you. But wait — you mean your backyard, right?”
Tammy let out a loud, fake laugh like I’d told the funniest joke in the world.
“No, honey. Both units always share the backyard and the dock. It’s kind of a tradition.”
I gave her a polite smile, though inside I was already uneasy. “I think there’s some confusion. We actually purchased this half of the duplex, and it includes the entire backyard and most of the dock. It’s all on the deed.”
Tammy’s smile didn’t budge, but her tone cooled. “Well, that’s not how it’s worked for the past five years. The old owners didn’t mind.”
“I understand, but we’re not renting. We bought this place,” I explained gently. “We’re happy to have you over sometime! But if you ever want to use the backyard, just let us know first.”
She gave me a long, slow look. “Do you think I need permission?” she snapped. “Whatever! We’ll talk later.”
Then she spun on her heel and walked off, her dress fluttering behind her. I glanced over and noticed a shirtless man watching from their porch, holding a beer, glaring at us like we’d insulted his entire family.
Nate walked up behind me. “Who was that?”
“Our neighbor. And I think we’ve got a problem.”
He rubbed my back. “Hey, people just need clear boundaries. It’ll be fine.”
If only that had been true.
The Birthday Party Invasion
Saturday morning arrived, and I was sipping my coffee on the patio, enjoying the view, when an enormous truck rumbled right into our driveway. I stood up, heart already sinking.
“Delivery for Miss Tammy!” the driver called out cheerfully.
Before I could even respond, Tammy strutted over from her unit, high heels clacking on the pavement, and pointed toward our backyard.
“Right over there,” she told the driver. “Set it up next to the gazebo.”
I walked over fast, setting down my coffee. “Tammy, what is going on?”
She pointed to the giant box being unloaded. “Kayla’s birthday. We got her a bounce house.”
“On our property?” I asked, stunned.
Tammy gave me that same sugar-sweet fake smile. “I told you how things work around here. Besides, it’s a kid’s birthday party. Don’t be that grumpy neighbor.”
“Grumpy?” I was trying to stay calm. “You should’ve asked us first.”
“Well, just so you know, you’ll both need to stay inside today,” she added casually. “It’s a family-only event, and Randy doesn’t like strangers around the kids.”
I glanced over. Randy — her shirtless boyfriend — was now dragging a folding table through our grass, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
I took a breath. “We’ll let the party happen today. I don’t want to ruin your daughter’s birthday. But after this, our backyard is off-limits unless you get permission. That’s final.”
Tammy’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see about that.”
Back inside, I found Nate staring out the window.
“You heard that?”
“Every word,” he said, jaw tight. “Let’s just get through today.”
The Party From Hell
By noon, chaos had taken over. Kids were shrieking. Loud music pounded from huge speakers. Grownups shouted over the noise while holding beers and red cups. Our backyard looked like a carnival, only louder and trashier.
We stayed inside, gritting our teeth. But then — a knock on the glass patio door.
I turned and saw a drunk man swaying on our back porch. Bottle in hand, shirt unbuttoned, red-faced.
I opened the door just a crack. “Can I help you?”
“Bathroom?” he slurred.
“The party’s outside,” I said firmly. “Use Tammy’s bathroom.”
“She said it’s full,” he mumbled. “Said use yours.”
Then — he pushed against the door, trying to stumble inside.
“Absolutely not!” I blocked the door with my body. “This is our house.”
Nate stepped up behind me, voice sharp. “What the hell, man? You need to leave.”
Just then, Tammy came marching over like she was the queen of the backyard.
“What’s the problem?” she demanded. “Kevin just needs to use your bathroom. It’s not like you’re using all of them right now.”
“You’re serious?” I said. “This is not a public restroom!”
“You two are so selfish,” Tammy snapped. “All this space for just you while I’m crammed in next door with three kids?”
Nate wasn’t having it. “That’s not our problem. Your friend leaves now, or we’re calling the police.”
Tammy grabbed Kevin’s arm and muttered, “Come on. These people don’t get it.”
And as she dragged him away, she shouted over her shoulder, “You don’t deserve this place! Selfish jerks!”
I shut the door, hands shaking. “That’s it. I’m calling a contractor.”
Nate was already on his phone. “Already looking up fence companies.”
Building the Boundary
The next morning, a white truck pulled into our driveway. I greeted the crew with fresh coffee and a box of doughnuts, feeling relief bubble up inside me.
The foreman looked over the plans. “Six-foot privacy fence along the property line, outdoor kitchen here, firepit there, new patio extending out. That right?”
“Perfect,” I said, smiling wide.
I didn’t even have to turn around to know she was coming. Tammy arrived with a stormy face and her hands on her hips.
“What’s all this?” she demanded.
“Home improvements,” I replied cheerfully.
She tried to peek at the clipboard. “What kind of improvements?”
The contractor looked at me. I gave a tiny head shake.
“Ma’am, I can only speak with the homeowners,” he said politely.
Tammy’s face twisted. “Anything that affects both properties involves me too!”
“This is all on our side of the property line,” I explained. “It won’t touch your unit.”
When the workers dug the first hole, her eyes widened.
“You can’t put up a fence! That’s not how this duplex works!”
Nate walked over calmly. “We checked with the city and HOA. We have every permit.”
“This is ridiculous!” she shouted. “We’ve always had access!”
“That was before,” I said. “We’ve been more than patient.”
Tammy stormed back inside. A few minutes later, she came out again, holding her phone. “We’ll see what the police have to say about this.”
Twenty minutes later, two officers pulled up. Tammy ran to them, full of drama.
“They’re building a fence! It’s shared property!”
The taller officer turned to us. “Can we see your documents?”
Nate handed over our folder. They reviewed everything while Tammy ranted.
Finally, the officer looked at her. “Ma’am, they’re within their rights. The fence is legal and on their property.”
“But it’s always been shared!”
“Past arrangements don’t change legal ownership,” the second officer said firmly.
Just then, Randy — still shirtless — strolled out.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“They’re saying we can’t use our own backyard!” Tammy shrieked.
“It’s not your backyard,” I said.
Randy stepped toward the cops. “You’re just siding with them ‘cause they’ve got money.”
“Sir, step back,” the officer warned.
Instead, Randy jabbed a finger at the officer’s chest.
And just like that — chaos. Randy was tackled, cuffed, and face-down on our driveway.
Tammy screamed. The workers froze. Nate and I just stood there, stunned.
As Randy was dragged toward the patrol car, Tammy turned and hissed, “This isn’t over!”
“Oh, I think it is,” I said, smiling.
The Final Move
The fence went up. The outdoor kitchen got built. The firepit sparkled under the stars. Tammy and Randy glared and muttered, but they never crossed the line again.
Then, one evening, my phone rang.
“Hi, this is George. I own the unit next to yours…”
My heart skipped.
“I’m selling. Managing from Arizona’s too hard, especially with the current tenants. Want to buy it before I list it?”
I covered the phone. “Nate. It’s happening.”
Three weeks later, we owned both units.
I knocked on Tammy’s door with the deed in hand.
She opened it, instantly suspicious. “What do you want?”
I smiled sweetly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself… as your new landlord.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Your lease is good until July. After that, we’re renovating. But — move out by next month, and we’ll give you three months’ rent back.”
SLAM.
The Goodbye
Weeks passed. No rent. So we started the eviction.
Then one afternoon, a silver sedan pulled in. Out stepped an older woman who looked like Tammy — but softer. Kinder.
She knocked. “I’m Darlene, Tammy’s mom. May I come in?”
Over coffee and banana bread, she apologized. “She’s been through a lot. But no excuse. I’ve helped her find a new place. They’ll be out by the end of the month.”
“What about the rent?” Nate asked.
She placed an envelope on the table. “All there. Plus extra.”
A month later, the truck pulled away. Darlene waved. Tammy didn’t.
Nate put his arm around me. “What should we do with the other unit?”
I leaned into him. “Let’s rent it to someone who actually knows how to be a good neighbor.”
“Or…” he grinned, “we keep it empty. Just us. Our paradise.”
I raised my glass. “To boundaries — and learning when to build them.”
Sometimes, paradise isn’t just about palm trees. It’s about standing your ground… and making sure the last laugh echoes.
