Your Dream And Mine. Susan Kirby
have been nicer about it once he heard the proceeds from the sale are going to Deidre’s mission. Which reminds me, would you like to buy a ticket to the soup supper? It’ll be at the church Sunday night.”
“Sure, I’ll take a couple,” agreed Thomasina. “Where is it again?”
“Liberty Flat’s church. On Church Street,” the lady added, and chuckled as she gave her the tickets. She tallied her purchases and counted back her change. “Enjoy your new home.”
Thomasina thanked her and drove on out to Milt and Mary’s. Fixing supper wasn’t part of her job. But both Mary and Milt had been to the doctor that day, and Mary was worn-out. She perked up a bit when Thomasina told her about her forthcoming move to Liberty Flats.
“What a happy coincidence!” exclaimed Mary. “You’ll like Trace.”
“Take it easy on him, rose lips,” said Milt.
“Oh, Milt! Don’t start that foolishness,” scolded Mary.
“All I said was—”
“You couldn’t want a more responsible landlord than Trace.” Mary talked right over him.
“All I said—”
“Respectable, too.”
“All I—”
“Not one word!”
Milt gave a rusty laugh. “Simmer down, Mary, and leave the matchmakin’ to me. Right, Tommy Rose?”
“So long as you leave me out of it,” said Thomasina. She smiled at Mary and whispered loudly, “Why don’t you see if you can get his meddling under control while I do the dishes?”
Mary stood by as Thomasina helped Milt to the battery-powered scooter the family had purchased when he became too weak to get from one end of the house to the other without stopping to rest. Once to the living room, Milt settled on the sofa beside Mary. He turned on the television, but soon had it on mute.
Bits of conversation drifted in from the living room as Thomasina cleared the dining room table. She saw Milt patting Mary’s knee, and Mary wiping her eyes. The words living will tugged at her heartstrings. She retreated to the kitchen, closed the door and winged silent petitions on their behalf to the One who had filled them with so many good years.
At the end of her shift at Milt and Mary’s, Thomasina returned to her apartment and began packing boxes for the move. The heat soon zapped her. She filled her white sedan with boxes and sofa cushions, and drove south to Liberty Flats.
Taking a few necessities to the upstairs bedroom, Thomasina made a bed for herself on the cushions, and slept better than she had in days. She awakened at two in the afternoon, showered and dressed in shorts and a pink oversize shirt. Ready to tackle unloading the car, she tied her hair back with a neon pink scarf and let herself out the front door.
Two towheaded, chocolate-smudged youngsters darted across Thomasina’s path and around the side of the house to where Trace was trimming bushes. The little boy kicked through the clippings as they fell to the ground. The little girl, half a head taller, tripped over the extension cord trying to copy his capers. The hedge clippers went dead.
“What’re you two doing back?” asked Trace, unaware of Thomasina’s approach.
“Momma said we didn’t have to come in yet,” said the little boy. His voice was nearly as raspy as old Milt’s.
“Well, you’re in my way, so scram,” said Trace, reaching for the rake.
“Cut our bushes,” said the little girl. Getting no response from Trace, she turned to her brother. “They’re tall as a house. Aren’t they, Pauly?”
The boy bobbed his head and sucked his thumb.
“Hear that, Win?” said Trace. He paused in raking clippings to cup a hand to his ear. “Cartoons are on.”
“Who’s on?” asked the girl.
“Magnet-Man. He’s the guy who’s going to clean house on those toy heroes you two have been collecting.”
“Nuh-uh!” said Winny, jutting out her lip.
Trace shrugged and tossed a pile of clippings into the wheelbarrow. “That’s what I heard, anyway.”
“You’re fibbing,” accused Winny. But the seed of planted doubt bunched her face into a pout. “Come on, Pauly. We’ll tell Momma.”
Trace leaned down to reconnect the trimmers, then straightened to find Thomasina standing a few feet away. Her gaze followed the children cross the yard where they disappeared through a narrow path in the hedge.
“Hi,” said Trace. “How’s the move going?”
“So far so good.” Her mouth tipped in response to his smile. “Who do I call about getting the paper delivered?”
He gave her the paperboy’s name, and offered to let her use his phone.
“Thanks. But I’ve got one in the car. By the way, I saw the tree at Mary and Milt’s is still standing. I’m glad. Mary’s partial to it.”
“Milt didn’t mention that to me.”
“She didn’t tell him. She doesn’t want to be the fly in the ointment.”
“That so?” he said.
Leaving well enough alone, Thomasina crossed to the curb for the sack of doughnuts she had left in the car. Someone had beat her to it. It was no mystery who. There were chocolate child-size fingerprints all over the seats, on her moving boxes and even on her cellular phone. She wiped the phone off only to find a dead line. On closer inspection she found the battery was missing.
Thomasina retraced her steps to where Trace was rolling up the extension chord. “On second thought, I’ll take you up on the phone offer. Mine’s not working.”
“If you’re going to leave your car out, you might want to lock your doors,” he said.
“I thought leaving doors unlocked was one of the perks in small towns.”
“Maybe in Mayberry. But the Penn kids are loose in Liberty Flats.”
She folded her arms. “Fine way to talk about your little helpers.”
“Helpers?” He laughed, his face shiny damp. “Good argument for staying single, don’t you mean?”
“Shame on you.”
Unrepentant, Trace dragged a brown forearm across his brow, then tossed the coiled extension cord on top of the hedge trimmings. “Anything else I can do to make moving day less of a hassle?”
“I noticed there isn’t a restaurant in town. What do people around here do for eating out?”
“You can get a sandwich made to order at Newt’s Market on the square. Pretty good one at that.”
“Great. The cupboards are bare.”
“Your doughnut sack, too,” he said. “Sorry I didn’t get it away from them before they made such a mess of your car.”
“You caught them in the act, huh?”
“Chocolate-fisted.” At Thomasina’s smile, he added, “They live in the little yellow house on the other side of the hedge if you want to take it up with their mother.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said.
“I was planning on grabbing a sandwich before work myself,” said Trace on impulse. “You want to come along?”
“That’s