The Way Home by Katherine Spencer

had missed a few spots. More than a few. But the new paint would cover it, she reasoned.
    â€œI couldn’t get it all. I did the best I could.”
    He looked at her, wondering if she was going to tell him to do the work over, she guessed. He wasn’t even a third of the way done. She thought he would have gotten further by now.
    â€œAs long as you get most of it off. The primer will help. But you need to press the brush harder,” she added, doing a patch herself to demonstrate. “Maybe some steel wool would help. We can get some when we run into town later for the paint. Liza went into the city today. You and I will clean the rooms. You can get back to this later.”
    â€œFine with me. It’s getting hot.” Jamie put his hat back on, then followed her back to the house.
    Cleaning the guest rooms was not the most appealing job, she thought, but it was easier than scraping paint off a fence.
    It was past one o’clock by the time they’d cleaned all the bedrooms and baths. They had decided not to stop for lunch until they were completely finished. The beds were left without sheets but Claire liked to make them up right before the room was occupied, so the linens smelled fresh.
    While Claire fixed lunch—ham and cheddar sandwiches with fresh coleslaw on the side—Jamie carried several baskets of laundry down to the laundry room in the basement.
    Claire sliced a juicy tomato to top the sandwiches. It seemed like such a luxury to have a young man around doing the heavy work. That alone was worth an extra salary.
    Jamie gobbled his sandwich then made himself another.
    Claire realized he must have been hungry awhile and had agreed to put off lunch to be a good sport. She would think twice before suggesting that idea again. She was nibbling the last of her own sandwich while he ate dessert, chocolate cream pie left over from Sunday night’s dinner.
    â€œThis pie is awesome. It’s the best thing I ever ate in my life.”
    Claire laughed at the extravagant compliment. “You said the same thing about the coconut cake on Saturday,” she reminded him.
    â€œRight. I did. But if I had to live on a desert island, I’d take the pie,” he said decisively.
    Claire had never considered that scenario, eating pie on a desert island. “That would be more like a dessert island,” she quipped. “Given the choice, I’d take the pie, too,” she added. “And I’d also take some utensils, so I could cook with the local ingredients.”
    Jamie smiled at her reply. “When are we going to town? I need to pick up some stuff at the drugstore. If we can make a stop,” he added.
    â€œI suppose we could.” Claire sipped her iced tea. She had been thinking of skipping the trip to town today. She really wanted to get started on the laundry. She didn’t like to leave it piled up down there, even for a day.
    But what would Jamie do all afternoon? He had finished the jobs on Liza’s list, and Claire didn’t know what else needed fixing. She could ask him to clean the porch and water the flowers, but that was really busywork and the flowers shouldn’t be watered until late afternoon when it cooled down.
    â€œI can go myself if you’re tired,” he suggested. “I could get the paint and my stuff and stop at the grocery store for you.”
    He had misread her delay in answering. But that wasn’t a bad idea. He could go by himself. Why not? If she stayed here, she could have all the wash done by suppertime.
    â€œI think that would be all right, if you promise to drive safely. The Jeep can get a little finicky in the heat. But it’s a short trip. It shouldn’t bother you.”
    Jamie listened attentively. She could tell he was hiding a smile. He was feeling a bit cooped up, she guessed, and eager to be on his own awhile. He had been here since Friday and hadn’t even had time for a swim.
    While he washed