really planned, the sprinklers were barely an inconvenience.
For a few days after the sprinkler incident, Audrey kept her distance.
Then I saw the paint cans.
She had dragged half the furniture off her porch and covered the steps with drop cloths. By lunchtime, the old cream railings had become a sharp, gleaming white.
This one mattered.
Apparently, another party was coming.
This one mattered.
Audrey scrubbed the porch boards, polished the windows, replaced the cushions on her outdoor chairs, then stood in the yard rearranging lanterns until they looked exactly right.
I watched from my garden while pretending to deadhead roses.
“Big improvement, don’t you think?”
She caught me looking. “Big improvement, don’t you think?”
“It’s very white.”
“That’s the idea.” She glanced toward my flower beds. “Some of us like things a little more modern.”
I snipped off a wilted bloom. “Some of us like things alive.”
