In less than thirty minutes, Penny finished her chores and Zoe came back with a huge duffel bag filled to seam-stretching capacity.
Susan offered Zoe a guest room on the second floor, one of the unused rooms haphazardly furnished with decades-old furniture not yet rickety enough to throw out.
“Most of the stuff in there was mine when I was your age. The bed, the dresser, the curtains.” She pointed to a vanity on the opposite wall, and a large wooden chest on the floor beside it. “You can sleep here if you want. I thought you’d probably want to stay in Penny’s room, but this one is open if you get tired of her.”
They carried Zoe’s stuff up to the attic room and Zoe unpacked; stowing her clothes, books, and her favorite rocks–the ones she simply couldn’t be parted with–in the spare dresse
