Cody’s mom dropped him off at a home in an upscale neighborhood. The lawns were perfect and driveways sported expensive pavement paintings of animals and sunsets.
“Have a good session, honey,” his mom said as he got out of the car.
“That’s not really how it works.”
“You know what I mean. Your dad will pick you up.”
“I thought you were.”
“He really wanted to,” she said with a shrug. “Be good.”
Greta met Cody at the front door and waved to his mom as she drove off. The old woman beckoned him inside.
“Good afternoon, Cody.”
“Hi. Uh, nice house,” he blurted out as he surveyed the rich room. There were vases and fine paintings on the walls.
“Thanks, but it’s just a rental. I don’t like to settle down,” she said. “Remnants of my upbringing, I suppose. If it was my business to assume beh
