Just me.
Two suitcases.
Old truck.
New keys.
The children ran over ten minutes later.
Vanessa watched from her porch.
Noah claimed the upstairs bedroom facing their house.
I laughed.
“You’re not moving in.”
“Just saying.”
Emma inspected every closet.
Then found the kitchen.
“Can we bake pie?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Today.”
She cheered.
The new kitchen was larger.
Not fancy.
But mine.
I had already stocked it.
We baked two apple pies.
One for us.
One for Margaret.
Then Noah suggested.
“We should sell more.”
I smiled.
“Capitalist.”
“What’s that?”
“Ask your mother.”
He frowned.
“Can you just tell me?”
“Yes.”
That afternoon, Ethan came over alone.
He brought coffee.
I let him in.
He looked around.
“This is nice.”
“It will be.”
“You need help with anything?”
“No.”
He smiled sadly.
“Of course.”
I noticed.
Then said.
“Actually.”
He looked up.
“I could use help moving the bookshelf tomorrow.”
