The Mill River Redemption by Darcie Chan

returned to her, Josie shoved the letter into her purse and ran back to The Bookstop to borrow a road map from Ivy. A glance at herwatch told her that she had two and a half hours before she was due to pick up Emily from nursery school.
    She got back into her car and unfolded the map to display all of Rutland County. It was strange—she’d been in Mill River almost two years now, and this was the first time she had looked carefully at a map of the surrounding area. Killington, Proctor, Pittsford, Hubbardton, Castleton, Ira, Tinmouth, Clarendon … her eyes swept in a counterclockwise circle, stopping to read the name of each town surrounding the small black dot labeled MILL RIVER . She looked at the map eagerly, with an open mind. The letter from New York had changed everything.
    Josie laid the map on the passenger’s seat, shifted her car into reverse, and backed out of her driveway. Her aunt was right. Of course she had the potential to do well in real estate. Before, she specialized in finding the right setting and owner, essentially the right home, for a diamond. Now, she would learn how to find the right homes for people. The commonality between them, and her true talent, was her ability to find what
belonged
. Josie smiled, feeling the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind.
    To be successful, she would need to know the area as well as the locals. She would need to familiarize herself with the towns and communities, the neighborhoods and school districts. It would take time and effort, but Josie was willing to commit both. Her girls’ future, and her own, depended on it.
    A FEW WEEKS LATER , J OSIE SAT AT HER KITCHEN TABLE WITH A YELLOW highlighter in her hand. A large pot of pasta sauce and meatballs simmered on the back burner of her stove. The girls were upstairs playing, and the chattering and occasional giggling that drifted downstairs assured her that they weren’t getting into too much trouble.
    The table was covered with study materials for Vermont’s realestate pre-licensing course in which she had enrolled. Forty hours of instruction were required, which she would complete on the mornings when both girls were in school. After she finished the course, she would have to pass the national and state real estate exams. And finally, she would have to find a real estate brokerage willing to take her on as a trainee.
    The sound of the doorbell interrupted her train of thought, and she hurried to the door to find Ivy on the front stoop. She had a large typewriter in her arms.
    “Here, let me help,” Josie said, but her aunt had already pushed her way inside.
    “I’ve got it,” Ivy huffed. “Just let me know where to put it.”
    “The storage room,” Josie said. She ran ahead of her aunt and opened a door off the living room. “There’s an old card table in here.”
    “Whew!” Ivy said after she set the typewriter down on the table. “I forgot how clunky this thing is. It’s been up in my attic for years.”
    “Does it still work?” Josie asked. The typewriter was an old IBM electric model. The greenish-gray finish was chipped and worn along the edges, but the keys looked to be in good shape.
    “Oh, sure. It’s sort of a dinosaur, though,” Ivy said. “I’ve read about the new models they have in offices these days. ‘Word processors’ they call ’em. They’ve got a little screen where you can edit what you type before you print it.”
    “I don’t need anything that fancy,” Josie said. “This’ll be great. I’ve been working on a cover letter and a résumé to send out to some agencies. Now I’ll be able to get them in the mail on Monday.”
    “The sooner, the better,” Ivy agreed. She turned toward the kitchen and sniffed. “It sure does smell good in here. You make Italian food better than any restaurant I ever ate in.”
    Josie had just followed Ivy back to the kitchen when Rose and Emily thumped down the stairs. The little girls burst into the kitchen wearing a variety of