Free Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) by Elizabeth Alix Page A

you can see, it really needs it.”
    Mikey shrugged politely and unenthusiastically. “Sure, Miss Singleton.”
    “What are your rates?” She glanced at the Cavarellis as she asked the boy.
    Mikey looked up at his parents and said hopefully, “Does eight dollars an hour plus gas seem okay to you?”
    Again, she eyed Cavarelli senior who nodded slightly. “That seems okay,” she said. “As you know the lawn hasn’t been touched in months, so you’ll have to work at it till it gets in shape. Are you up for some extra weeding and organizing?”  
    Mikey looked a little pained but nodded when his father squeezed his shoulder again. “When can you start?” She asked with a smile.
    Mikey shrugged. “I guess I could start this afternoon if you want.”
    “Really? Okay! I hope you can use your own mower ‘cause I don’t have one.” John Cavarelli nodded. “Alright, let me get some more painting done, and I’ll come over around one o’clock and we can figure out where to start.”
    The Cavarellis left, and she went back to work with a smile. They seemed really nice. She turned on the little radio and rolled periwinkle blue top-coat on her bedroom while listening to Car Talk. She loved the relationship advice, and pictured Tom and Ray telling her she’d done the right thing to dump the chump.
    After lunch she walked next door. Maria answered and invited her in while yelling over her shoulder, “Mikey! Miss Singleton is here.”
    Mikey emerged, pulling a well-loved baseball cap over his dark hair.
    “Thanks for doing this,” she said as they walked together back over to number 25.
    “You’re welcome,” he said dutifully.
    “No, really. I used to live in the city. We don’t have private lawns and gardens there. I don’t know the first thing about lawn care, so it’s nice to have someone who knows what they’re doing.” She thought he stood a little straighter. “By the way, what do you like to be called?”
    He considered. “Mikey is okay, but I think I’m getting a little old for that. How about Michael?”
    “Okay, Michael it is. What would you do to get this yard in shape? I mean, I have some ideas, but what do you think?”
    He looked appraisingly around the yard, its long grass and overgrown gardens, and thought for a minute. “Well, mowing it a bunch will help but there’s a lot of weeding. Some of your plants look pretty good, but there’s a bunch of dead ones too.”
    She was impressed that he was so observant. “You guys have a pretty nice yard,” she ventured.
    “Yeah, my dad’s pretty proud of it. I have to do weeding and mowing at our place sometimes, so I kind of know what to do.”
    “Well, if you want some paid work, I’ve got plenty.” He looked pleased at the prospect and went home to fetch a lawn mower.
    “Keep track of your hours, and I’ll pay you as you go,” Marianne said and returned inside. The paint smell at the back of the house meant another night on the mattress in the living room, but doing it all at once was the only way to go. She looked at the newly blue bedroom with pleasure. Ice white trim would set it off nicely. She’d chosen a complimentary dark brown paint for the trim in the spare room and spent the rest of the afternoon painting the trim around the two windows, the closet, and the baseboard. The intoxicating smell of freshly mown grass drifted in the windows with the beat of the mower engine.
    Around three she put the lid back on the quart can and left it on the ladder and went outside to admire Michael’s progress and invite him in for lemonade. She paid him $20 for his labor and a tank of gas. He promised to return Tuesday, “ ’cause I have basketball practice on Monday, and I’m trying to get good enough for the school team.”
    Later Marianne was in the kitchen contemplating dinner when she heard a pop and a heavy thunk accompanied by a liquid sound from the back room. She hastened back to see what the odd noise was and gasped as she