The contractor came on a Monday and looked at the shutters and said they were original to the house and could be repaired or replaced. I said repair them. He said it would cost more. I said I knew.
Blair came by while he was working. She stood in the yard and watched him plane a board and did not come inside. I brought her a glass of water and we stood under the oak tree where our father had hung the swing.
"You're fixing them," she said.
"Mom liked the light."
"She liked them broken. She said it reminded her of the house she grew up in." Blair drank the water and set the glass on the step. "She used to tell me about that house. The shutters in her bedroom were crooked and she would lie in bed and watch the shadows move."
"She never told me that."
"I know."
The contractor's saw whin
