Free Rescue by Anita Shreve

wear your boots, you’d be high enough to see.”
    “This is so weird,” she said and kissed him on the cheek.
    “After we find a place, and I think we should start tomorrow, even though it’s a Sunday, the first piece of furniture we’re
     going to put in there is a full-length mirror.”
    She cocked her head and gave a little shake.
    “So you can see how beautiful you are. And will be when you’re eight months pregnant.”
    “I’ll be fat.”
    “You’ll be gorgeous.”
    She frowned, and it occurred to Webster that he’d never known Sheila to be even slightly vain.
    She’d undone his shirtsleeve and was rolling it up his arm. “What kind of a place will we be able to get?” she asked.
    He looked down at his arm. “I’ve done a little hunting,” he said. “When I was thinking about getting out of my parents’ house.
     Not that I don’t love them and appreciate the meals. I do. But it’s past time. I’ve seen a few places. A one-bedroom at best.”
    Sheila stroked the inside of his arm. “We have to have someplace to put the baby,” she said.
    “Well, two bedrooms if we get extra lucky.” The only two-bedroom Webster had seen during his short quest had smelled of dead
     animal. Tomorrow he’d walk over to Carroll & Carroll and see if there was anything new in the window. And he’d buy the Sunday
     paper, look at the ads. The problem was that the apartment had to be in Hartstone. Rescue had a bunk room and a living room
     with a TV for use during tours. All the furniture was from grateful patients. The kitchen had three spoons. Websterdidn’t understand why the medics didn’t just go out and buy a dozen spoons. He’d thought of doing it himself, but couldn’t
     presume until he’d earned a little more seniority.
    The search for an apartment might be hard.
    “OK,” he said. “Let’s go.”
    Sheila, drawing her fingers away from his arm, seemed confused.
    “The Giant Mart,” he said.

T hey took the first apartment they could afford: a one-bedroom the size of Webster’s parents’ living room situated over an
     ice-cream shop. That the apartment had a washer and dryer sealed the deal. If they’d been willing to look further, they might
     have been able to find a better place, but this one was available, and Webster was impatient. Now that the decision had been
     made, he wanted to make it a reality as soon as possible. They could move in any time, the owner of the ice-cream shop had
     said.
    They transferred Sheila’s belongings the following Saturday morning. Webster wouldn’t start moving in until the next day,
     after they’d had the dinner with his parents. He didn’t want to appear too eager, even though he’d move no matter what they
     said.
    Once Webster had paid the security deposit and the first month’s rent, he and Sheila walked into their new home together.
     The kitchenette allowed only one person inside it at a time, but the round table Webster would bring from home could seat
     three in a pinch. The appliances looked tired, but they worked, which was all Webster cared about. They studied the small
     living room, noting water damage on the ceiling. They didn’t much like the blue wall-to-wall either. Someday they’d own their
     own place, Sheila said, and Webster wondered if that would ever be true.
    They walked into a single bedroom with a slanted ceiling and one window. They debated where to put the bed, a short debate,
     there being only one section of wall without a door or a window. They drove to the Giant Mart to buy a broom, a wastebasket,
     kitchen and bath supplies, and enough food to get by for a couple of days. When the parental dinner was behind them, Webster
     would go to his father’s hardware store and purchase a full-length mirror for Sheila. The only place he could put it would
     be inside the only closet in the apartment, the one in the bedroom. The owner had put hooks, in lieu of a coat closet, by
     the front door.
    Sheila had asked the nurse if