We were cleaning up the dinner dishes—me at the sink, her stacking plates—and she turned to me with a hopeful grin.
“Mom,” she said, “Mrs. Carpenter asked if I could babysit her boys next week. Monday to Friday. After lunch, until dinnertime.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Carpenter from next door?”
Lucy nodded. “She said she’s working on a big interior design project and needs someone reliable.”
That made me pause. I’d known Mrs. Carpenter for years. She was the type of neighbor who waved from her porch but rarely engaged in real conversation. Impeccably dressed even on a grocery run, always with perfectly trimmed hedges and glistening front windows. She had a certain… pride about her.
“You sure you’re okay with it?” I asked.
Lucy’s excitement didn’t dim. “Of course! I’ve watched the twins before—at their birthday party, remember? And besides, she said she’d pay $11 an hour!”
