SATURDAY MORNING brought jacket weather. We sat with our first cups. The spring leaves were rattling when brakes on the driveway made me snap to. “Now what?” I said. When I got to the back door, there stood Ashley, his arms around a full paper bag.
“I brought breakfast,” he said, peeling off his scarf and rubbing his hands against red cheeks. His early morning arrivals had been a part of our weekends for years, and were usually accompanied by a story.
“You"re up early. Couldn"t sleep?”
“Nope. I kept going over the classroom layout in my head. The bookcases are steel, you know. And that ugly green rag you call a rug. Always charges me up for a static shock when I touch metal. I think we really need to get in there and look around.”
“Is Sandy coming?” asked Linda.
“She said she"ll meet
