Chapter 10
I couldn’t believe how much work Dayton had done on their house. I vividly remembered the atrocious pistachio-colored kitchen, the pink halls, the thin, aging carpets in every room, the curtains, the dusty stairs…I’d tried to forget the bathroom lest I have nightmares about it. But he’d stripped the carpets and varnished the floors, given the walls a fresh coat of paint, changed every fixture, curtain, cabinet. It was a sunny sort of little house in one of Montreal’s oldest neighborhoods. They’d be happy here.
“And now,” Elsie said, pulling on my arm, “the bathroom.”
“Oh God. I don’t think I can take it.” I followed her down the hall. My sister was wobbling, I noticed. Her belly had dropped low. She insisted the baby wouldn’t be here until New Year’s Eve, but Dayton had packe
