radiator, she was sure of it. Last month it had been the fan belt, and
before that, the brake pads. Resigned, she eased to the side of the road
and got out to open the hood.
Smoke billowed, made her cough and step away. Resolutely, she swallowed
back the knot of despair in her throat. Maybe it wouldn't be anything
major. It could just be some belt again. And if it wasn't--she sighed
hugely--she would have to decide if it was better to pump more money
into this wreck or to worry her beleagured budget into buying another
wreck.
Either way, there was nothing to be done about it now.
She opened the passenger-side door and unbuckled Aubrey. "The car's sick
again, honey."
"Awww."
"Yeah, so we're going to leave it right here."
"Alone?"
Aubrey's concern over inanimate objects made Grace smile again. "Not for
long. I'm going to call the car man to come take care of it."
"Make it feel all better."
"I hope so. Now we're going to walk to Seth's house."
"Okay!" Delighted by the change of routine, Aubrey set out at a
scramble.
A quarter of a mile later, Grace was carrying her.
But it was a pretty day, she reminded herself. And walking gave her a
chance to look and really see. Honeysuckle was tangling along the fence
that bordered a tidy field of soybeans, and the scent was lovely. She
picked off a blossom for Aubrey.
By the time they skirted the marsh that edged Quinn land, her arms were
aching. They stopped to study a turtle sunning on the side of the road,
to let Aubrey giggle over the way its head retreated into its shell when
she reached out to touch.
"Can you walk for a while now, baby?"
"Tired." With her eyes pleading, Aubrey lifted her arms. "Up!"
"Okay, up you come. Nearly there." It was past nap time, Grace thought.
Aubrey wanted her nap directly after lunch every day. She would sleep
for two hours, almost to the minute, then wake up ready to roll.
Aubrey's head was already a snoozing weight on Grace's shoulder when she
climbed the porch and slipped into the house.
Once she had her daughter tucked onto the couch, she hurried upstairs to
strip beds, gather and sort laundry. With the first load in, she made a
quick call to the mechanic who did his best to keep her ailing car
alive.
She rushed upstairs again, remaking the beds with fresh sheets. To save
herself steps, she kept cleaning supplies on each floor. Grace tackled
the bathroom first, scrubbing and rinsing in a flurry until chrome and
tile sparkled.
It would be, she realized, her last full hit on the Quinn place before
Cam and Anna returned. But she'd already decided, sometime during the
mile walk from her broken-down car, to carve out a couple of hours for a
quick polish the day they were expected home.
She had pride in her work, didn't she? And certainly another woman would