"Mom, help," Brandon yelled.
Liz grabbed one of the paper bags he held
and reached for the other. "Where's your brother?"
He shrugged. "Around."
"Justin. Come help unload the
trunk." She carried the bags toward the house. Brandon followed with his backpack and her
overnight case. "Take them upstairs."
As she passed the living room to enter the
hall beside the stairs, her father-in-law sat up. "I can help you with
those."
"You could track Justin down."
"Impossible. He's so like Derek was.
Never could find that boy when there was work to be done."
She wished he would stop comparing Justin
to his father. That seemed to give Justin license to behave erratically. The
constant comparison also hurt Brandon .
Still, she was fortunate to have Pop's help with the boys. Working would have
been nearly impossible if he hadn't moved in and taken over the child care.
Liz put the bags on the counter and
unpacked the tea kettle and a canister of sugar. After putting water to heat,
she checked the refrigerator. Milk, butter, and eggs stood on the shelves. In
the freezer, the ice bin was full, and two bags of ice lay on the lower shelf.
Thanks, Laurel ,
she thought.
She looked around the room and admired the
efficient use of space and the features she hadn't found in an apartment
kitchen. The counters were marble with streaks of green that were echoed in the
painted walls and the curtains. The stove had double ovens and a rotisserie. A
microwave hung beneath one of the green cabinets. The large window above the
sink overlooked the backyard.
Justin emerged from the basement.
"Mom, there's a big freezer down there with food and ice cream. Can I have
some?"
She handed him an orange. "Here . . .
. It's good for you."
My Places
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