Inside, the room sizes were on the stingy side, but she'd solved
that--and helped her bank balance--by keeping furniture to a minimum.
Most of what she had were yard sale bargains, but she'd painted,
refinished, re-covered, and turned each piece into her own.
It was vital to Grace to have her own.
The house had ancient plumbing, a roof that leaked water after a hard
rain, and windows that leaked air. But it had two bedrooms, which had
been essential. She'd wanted her daughter to have a room of her own, a
bright, cheerful room. She had seen to that, papering the walls herself,
painting the trim, adding fussy curtains.
It was already breaking her heart knowing that it was about time to
dismantle Aubrey's crib and replace it with a youth bed.
"Be careful on the steps," Grace warned, and Aubrey started down, both
tiny tennis shoes planting themselves firmly on each of the steps on the
descent. The minute she hit bottom, she began to run, dragging her bag
behind her and squealing in anticipation.
She loved the sandbox. It made Grace proud to watch Aubrey make her
traditional beeline for it. Grace had built it herself, using scrap
lumber that she meticulously sanded smooth and painted a bright Crayola
red. In it were the pails and shovels and big plastic cars, but she knew
Aubrey would touch none of them until she'd set out her pets.
One day, Grace promised herself, Aubrey would have a real puppy, and a
playroom so that she could have friends visit and spend long, rainy
afternoons.
Grace crouched down as Aubrey placed her toys carefully in the white
sand. "You sit right in here and play while I mow the lawn. Promise?"
"Okay." Aubrey beamed up at her, dimples winking. "You play."
"In a little while." She stroked Aubrey's curls. She could never get
enough of touching this miracle that had come from her. Before rising,
she looked around, mother's eyes scanning for any danger.
The yard was fenced, and she had installed a childproof lock on the gate
herself. Aubrey tended to be curious. A flowering vine rambled along the
fence that bordered her house and the Cutters' and would have it buried
in bloom by summer's end.
No one was stirring next door, she noted. Too early on a Sunday morning
for her neighbors to be doing more than lazing about and thinking of
breakfast. Julie Cutter, the eldest daughter of the house, was her
much-treasured babysitter.
She noted that Julie's mother, Irene, had spent some time in her garden
the day before. Not a single weed dared show its head in Irene Cutter's
flowers or in her vegetable patch.
With some embarrassment, Grace glanced toward the rear of her yard,
where she and Aubrey had planted some tomatoes and beans and carrots.
Plenty of weeds there, she thought with a sigh. She'd have to deal with
that after cutting the lawn. God only knew why she'd thought she would
have time to tend a garden. But it had been such fun to dig the dirt and
plant the seeds with her little girl.
Just as it would be such fun to step into the sandbox and build castles
and make up games. No, you don't, Grace ordered herself and rose. The
lawn was nearly ankle-high. It might have been rented grass, but it was