Chapter 9: Moving Day

I got to my street at five past seven.

Eli had offered to drive me, and I had said no.

I didn't want anyone to be able to say I had brought a man to my own front door.

The station wagon was still in the driveway with its hatch up.

Up and down the block, neighbors in robes had found reasons to be on their lawns.

The man across the street was holding a coffee mug and not drinking from it.

Dorothy stood on my porch with a laundry basket on her hip.

Her blond hair was clipped back, and her face had the scrubbed, brave look of a woman who has been up since five.

Ricky sat on the top step in dinosaur pajamas, hugging his pillow.

"Roz," Dorothy said, and her eyes filled right away. "I'm so sorry you're seeing this."

"Why are you in my house?"

"Dean asked us to stay for a few weeks. While things get settled. My roof is leaking, and he didn't want Ricky in a hotel."

"Your roof was fine on Sunday."

"It started after that," she said softly. "I didn't think you'd mind."

The front door opened behind her.

Dean stood in the hall in a T-shirt, with coffee and a calm face.

"Rosalind," he said. "We can talk about it inside, like adults."

"The lock is new."

"Which is why I'm here to let you in."

"Are you letting me in?"

He hesitated. I watched him look at the neighbors, and then at me.

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