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Once we start, it takes less than an hour to move in every single thing Evie and I own. Lisa and Bill also present me with a microwave before they leave. “You’ll get a fridge delivered tomorrow morning,” Bill says. He holds up his hand before I can protest. “You need to let us have some peace of mind. At least we’ll know that starting tomorrow, you can live on Hot Pockets if you need to.”
They’re Evie’s favorite food.
Fine, I kind of love them too. “I promise we’ll eat more than Hot Pockets.”
“I know you will on Sundays because you better be at our place every week for family dinner,” Lisa says.
I throw my arms around them, and Evie flies out of her room and barrels into the group hug.
After we walk Bill and Lisa out, she asks, “What now?”
“Discover all our new nooks and crannies?”
She scrunches her face. “What’s a cranny?”
“I don’t know, but in books, sometimes they hide cool stuff.”
“Let’s go!”
Our front door opens into a small living room with a galley kitchen off to the right. Straight ahead, a hallway leads to the three bedrooms. Mine is first on the left, Evie’s is next to it, and a smaller third one sits past the bathroom on the right at the end of the hall. I don’t know what it’ll be yet, but it’s fun to think about. A guest room? An office? An oversized closet for all the clothes I don’t buy?
I laugh to myself and lead Evie to it. Oddly, it has a door leading outside, but I know what I’ll find when I open it: the paint I left on the back stoop yesterday, all mixed and ready for me to get to work on Evie’s room.
I throw open the back door and grin as she spots the paint cans, her eyes widening as she recognizes the colored dobs on each lid.
“My rainbow room?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She cheers and soon we have the drop cloth laid down. Eventually I’ll need to refinish the floors, but for now, they’ll be passable with a good polishing. There aren’t any baseboards either, but thanks to Mr. Brown’s bidding shenanigans, some of the finishing touches will have to wait a year or two, budget-wise.
Because of all the time I spent working on stage sets for our high school plays, I know I can put together a look that will thrill Evie within a couple of days. The question is whether I can work hardandsmart.
“Let’s take lots of pictures so we can see how much work we did,” I tell her. Sometimes it helps when she gets bored with a project to remind her of how much progress she’s made.
By the third wall, Evie’s lost interest. If it was a matter of herwantingto paint, I’d keep coaching her, but she’s itching to do other things.
“Hey, Evie, I think I can do the rest of this by myself, but you know what I can’t get to?”
“What?”
“I wanted to scope out the yard and find a good spot for a veggie garden.” She grimaces. “And flowers.”
“I’ll go!” She drops the roller where she stands and beelines out the back door.
“If you go around front, leave the door open so I can hear you!” I call after her.
“Okay, Mama!”
I’m halfway through priming the fourth wall when Evie bursts through the back door, her footsteps thumping toward me at a run. She pauses in the doorway long enough to announce, “I’m going out the front.”
“Leave the door open.”
“Okay.”
And she’s gone again. I’ll check on her in a few minutes, but just to see what she’s doing. Creekville is as safe as the small town I grew up in ten miles away, and I don’t have an ounce of worry that anyone will do anything to her.
When I poke my head out after the last wall is done, she’s pushing leaves into a pile. I’ll need to see if there are any rakes lurking in the small shed out back. If not, I’ll borrow Bill’s. I could buy one discounted, but the idea makes my eye twitchy. These are the kinds of expenses I hadn’t planned for when I figured my monthly budget. Discounted paint and curtains made from thrifted sheets? Yes. A $25 rake? No.
