Heather
50
In the new house, Heather lay on the big bed in her room. They’d moved over that day—the first day of her resting period. Next up: one week without chemo treatments.
Kyle and her mother had done the bag lifting, but she’d helped with some of the packing, and it had worn her out.
It was early evening now, just after dinner. They’d had grilled chicken breasts with pesto and broccoli and had shared a big cucumber, kale, and apple smoothie in the wine glasses stocked in the kitchen cupboards.
Heather had been tired after the excitement of the move and had gone to bed early.
“I’m here to tuck you in,” Kyle said, knocking on and opening the door simultaneously.
Heather smiled and sank into the uber-comfy bed. It was much better than the inn’s bed.
Perhaps these folks used memo
