My Neighbor Took Our Grill Without Asking While We Were on Vacation—He Regretted It Immediately

When we first moved into our new house six months ago, I fell in love with the tree-lined streets and the way neighbors waved as they walked their dogs. It seemed like a safe neighborhood where our kids could ride bikes and play outside without me constantly peeking through the curtains.

After years in our cramped apartment downtown, Richard and I had finally found the perfect place to raise our two children, Lily and Max.

“This is it,” Richard had whispered on moving day, squeezing my hand as we watched the kids race up and down the driveway. “Our forever home.”

And it was perfect… until we met Oliver.

At first glance, Oliver seemed like any other neighbor. He showed up the day after we moved in with a plate of store-bought cookies.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” he said. “Nice place. Previous owners never did much with it.”

I thanked him for the cookies and introduced myself and Richard, who was wrestling with a bookshelf in the hallway.

“I’m right next door,” Oliver pointed. “Been here 15 years. I know everything about this neighborhood.”

Something in his tone made me uneasy, but I chalked it up to new-neighbor jitters. We were all adults here, right?

Wrong.

About two weeks after we moved in, I was watering our new flower beds when I spotted Oliver strolling into our neighbor Linda’s backyard across the street.

Linda and her husband weren’t home. I knew because she’d mentioned they were visiting their daughter in college that weekend.

Yet there was Oliver, casually opening their gate and walking around their property like he owned it.

When Richard saw him later that day and asked about it, Oliver shrugged.

“Just wanted to check something,” he said vaguely. “Jim wouldn’t mind.”

Richard and I exchanged glances but didn’t push it. We were new here, after all.

Then came the BBQ incident. We invited the neighbors over for a housewarming cookout on a warm Saturday in April.

Richard was proud of the high-end gas grill he’d saved up for. It was a gleaming stainless-steel Weber with all the bells and whistles.

“This baby can cook thirty burgers at once,” he boasted as our guests gathered around.

I noticed Oliver hanging back, eyeing the grill with an intensity that made me uncomfortable.

“Nice setup,” he finally said, running his hand along the side panel. “Must have cost a fortune.”

Richard beamed. “It was worth every penny. We love to entertain.”

Oliver took a long sip of his beer.

“Man, that beast puts mine to shame. You guys don’t even use it that much. Seems like a waste, honestly.”

An awkward silence followed. Richard laughed it off, but I saw the way Oliver kept glancing at the grill throughout the evening, like a kid eyeing a toy he couldn’t have.

As the weeks passed, Oliver’s behavior grew increasingly bizarre. He’d appear in our driveway unannounced, asking to borrow tools Richard had mentioned once in passing. He’d comment on packages delivered to our door before we’d even brought them inside.

“That looks like the patio set I was looking at online,” he said one afternoon as Richard carried in a large box. “Amazon had it on sale last week, right? Bet I could’ve found it cheaper, though.”

Richard shot me a look that said, How did he know what we ordered?

The final straw came when Oliver decided our property line was more of a suggestion than a boundary. I came home from grocery shopping to find him planting hostas along our side of the fence.

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

“Oh, hey Melanie!” he said cheerfully. “Just ran out of space in my yard. This spot gets the perfect amount of shade. You don’t mind, right?”

I did mind.

Richard minded even more when he got home. But by then, the plants were already in the ground, and confronting Oliver seemed more trouble than it was worth.