Sophie nods, her face still hidden in his fur. Gully leans into her, catching her by surprise, and she stumbles to the side. “Careful, Gully,” I warn, but I can see from Sophie’s expression that shedoesn’t mind. I feel that tug of familiarity again when I look into her eyes; the knowledge that she has lost her mother weighs on me. I pull Gully’s leash from my gardening belt, clip it on his collar, and hand her the end.
Through the opening in the wall, I see Adam and Vince slowly approaching, a gate held between them. Marjorie and Cynthia follow close behind.
“Another beauty,” I say, walking over. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” Adam says. Then he pulls his dark eyes from mine and looks around. “Did Sophie already run off with Gully?”
I nod. “They’re around here somewhere, exploring.”
“She’s taken a real shine to that dog of yours,” Marjorie says happily.
“Would you like my help putting the gate back in place?” Vince asks.
“I think we can handle it,” Adam says, looking over for my approval. I nod.
“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit to help carry the next gate to your truck.”
As Vince heads toward the home, Adam and I lift the gate into place.
“I’ve been telling Adam that the home has been transformed,” Marjorie says behind us, lifting her voice to be heard over Adam’s hammer. “It’s like the old days, but somehow even better.”
Adam glances at me and smiles. “I thought she was exaggerating, but I saw it for myself when I walked through just now. There was practically a party happening in the dining room. And then I stepped outside and saw all of the tables on the terrace, filled withresidents playing games and chatting like long-lost friends who’d just rediscovered one another. It’s wonderful.”
Their words sink like splinters into my skin. I can only see the residents’ happiness through the veil of loss now, knowing how all of this will be taken from them in a matter of weeks.
“Lucy,” Adam says.
I blink. He’s finished—the gate is securely back in place, but I’m still pressing the wood so hard with my hands that my skin has turned pale. I step back and let my hands fall to my sides, feeling the blood rush through them.
“Are you okay, dear?” Marjorie asks. Both she and Cynthia are peering at me worriedly, and I find I can’t meet their eyes.
I nod, looking away. “I wonder what we’ll find in the next garden.”
“Oh!” says Marjorie, holding up one small finger. “Speaking of which! I’ve been thinking, Adam, about the dire state of your yard.”
Adam appears taken aback by this sudden change of topic. Then he laughs good-naturedly. “?‘Dire’? I don’t know about—”
“It’s in terrible shape,” Marjorie says firmly. “I’m not even sure that yard is safe for Sophie.”
Adam’s smile falls. “It’s perfectly safe for Sophie.”
Marjorie seems to realize her misstep and holds up her hands in apology. “Safe, fine… but not…pretty. Not colorful. Not fun. That doesn’t seem fair to her, does it?” She looks questioningly at Cynthia, but Cynthia gives her a somewhat reprimanding stare and doesn’t say a word.
“What?” Marjorie goes on huffily. “All I’m trying to say is that I have a feeling that Lucy could help!”
Adam shoots me an apologetic look and gestures around him. “Grandma Marjorie, Lucy is clearlyverybusy.”
Marjorie crosses her arms and pouts. “I’m not suggesting that she transform your little yard into the gardens of Versailles. I just thought she could swing by and give you some ideas. Get you started.” She smiles innocently at me, practically batting her eyelashes, and adds, “Are you free this weekend?”
“Marjorie!” Adam groans, but now he’s pressing his hands over his face and laughing. “Whatever you do, Lucy, don’t look directly into her eyes. That’s how she gets you.”
I laugh. Marjorie swats his arm and shakes her head, but I can see that she’s struggling to keep a straight face.
There’s so much warmth and affection and teasing between them that it spills out over me, too, and for a moment I’m able to forget my sadness about the home’s closing. Other than spending time with my father, my weekend is entirely free.
I turn to Adam. “Where do you live?”
He peeks through his fingers at me, then drops his hands. “No, really, Lucy. You don’t have to—”
