Raked Over

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  The house seemed too quiet for a while with Betty not there, and then things got back to routine. The hot days continued, so I scheduled our garden maintenance visits as early in the day as I could, and still the days were long and tiring, even though Liz Burzachiello and I worked so efficiently as a team. Larger installation projects were starting, too, so I had a more than full schedule. Still, I thrived on the work and was glad for it even though many nights I only had energy for a salad and about thirty minutes watching the Colorado Rockies on TV before being ready to climb into bed.

  I’d been waiting for Bernice Thorton’s nephew to show up, which he never did, so I was contemplating calling Bernice and volunteering to do the very thing I was grousing about a few days earlier—take the trunk out to her in Timnath. I went back and forth about it for several days, and then I finally just called Betty, got Bernice’s number, and gave the woman a call.

  Yes, she would be thrilled if I could bring it out, she said. She didn’t know what to do about her nephew; she’d tried her best with him. Oh, yes, would you please bring it out? she asked. Her nephew was mad she didn’t have it. Gotten really mad. Could I bring it out soon?

  She gave directions and we set up a time for early afternoon the next day. I was going to be out that way on a job anyway, and I could get Liz to help me load the trunk into my car in the morning when we prepared for the day.