two yards, picking her way across the uneven ground and leaning on her cane as she walked. Kaye tracked her progress, knowing better than to offer help.
To judge Mrs. Ivey’s character by her appearance would be a mistake, one that was not likely to happen twice. Though she’d never revealed her age to a living soul, Kaye guessed it to be closer to ninety than eighty. She’d been a full-time resident of Dewberry Beach and an English teacher at the middle school for more than four decades and she still felt duty-bound to call out former students for bad behavior. Kaye had heard that Mrs. Ivey had presented herself to a closed-door town council one year and told the members exactly what she thought of a recent ordinance. It was said that Mrs. Ivey reduced fourteen adult men to jelly with a single look.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Ivey. How are you?”
Mrs. Ivey hadn’t changed in all the years Kaye had known her. She wore the same printed summer dress she always had, paired with a lacy white cardigan whose lumpy cuff revealed a tissue tucked inside. Though she was not one to tolerate foolishness, it was widely known that her kitchen was open to anyone who needed a home-made cookie or a sympathetic ear, and almost everyone in town had found their way to her house at some point, usually more than once. “I thought you might be coming down today, but I wasn’t entirely sure.”
“I don’t know how you would have known,” Kaye replied gently. “I didn’t know I was coming myself until just a few weeks ago.”
Mrs. Ivey tilted her head, reminding Kaye of an inquisitive robin. “I knew because I’m a bit psychic; I thought I’d told you that.”
“You did. I’m sorry. It must have slipped my mind.” Kaye hid her smile. It was good to be back.
“Well, no wonder.” Mrs. Ivey touched Kaye’s forearm as she took in the activity in the front yard. “You’ve been very busy. This is quite a project you’ve set for yourself, but you’ve never been one to do things halfway, have you?”
“I just want things to be settled. As you know, we’ve had a… well, a difficult few years.”
“Yes, I do know. And it’s very admirable that you want everything perfect now, but be careful of expectations, Kaye.” Mrs. Ivey tapped Kaye’s arm. “Your Christmas letter said Chase has made a complete recovery—do you really think so?”
“Yes, yes of course I do, all back to normal,” Kaye murmured, not accustomed to lying to her neighbor.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a battered work truck pulling up to the curb in front of the house. The muffler rattled for a second or two after the engine stopped, something that would not have been tolerated from newer companies. But Bobby DiNapoli had been repairing canvas awnings in the Dewberry Beach community for decades and he was afforded a latitude that others were not. The truck was the same battered workhorse she remembered—faded navy blue, with a dusting of rust along the wheel wells, a sun-bleached logo with an illegible telephone number stenciled along the side of the truck, and aluminum ladders strapped to the roof. The phone number wasn’t important anyway. The residents knew how to reach Bobby. Everyone else was discouraged from calling.
Expecting Bobby himself, Kaye was a bit startled to see a younger man exit the van, someone closer to her son’s age than her own. He approached with a wide smile and an outstretched hand, and Kaye decided he must be Bobby’s eldest son, Matty. She recognized his father’s sturdy build and his mother’s dark eyes. His cargo shorts were hitched just under his belly and secured with a wide canvas belt, and wisps of dark hair peeked out from the side of a Rangers hockey cap.
Kaye accepted his hand and shook it. “Matty, how nice to see you again. Thank you for coming out on such short notice.”
“No problem at all, Miz. Bennett. Dad said to make your job a priority.” He jerked his thumb toward the truck. “We were here last week or so to measure and we got the new awning in the back of the truck. Same color yellow, right?”
“That’s right.”
Part of the problem with living at the shore was the damaging winter winds and salty air. Mrs. Ivey had been vigilant in her reports to Kaye and had recently told her that the awnings hadn’t been taken down at the end of the