Raphael
Since Rachel had taken the rental car, I opted to work from home.
Home.
For the first time in seven years, that word actually had meaning. My father’s big maple desk was still in the old study, along with his leather, wheeled office chair, so I set up my laptop there. I didn’t mind sharing the space with Lucy while she did her home school, but Beth quickly whisked her little desk out to her sewing room so that I wouldn’t be disturbed. “She’ll bombard you with questions,” Beth said apologetically, “And I’ll be in and out too much for you to work. I’ll just move her in with me.”
When Lucy whined about the move, Beth promised to give her some scraps to sew into doll clothes after she finished her work. Watching Beth with Lucy, knowing Lucy was mine gave me such a bittersweet feeli
