“Sunrise Haven is only four miles away, Mom,” Evelyn said, her voice high and rapid. “They have a lovely garden terrace where they do morning stretches.”
“My garden has three varieties of heirloom tomatoes, Evelyn,” I said, speaking slowly, letting each word settle.
“They have people to do the weeding for you, so you do not have to bend down with those stiff hips of yours,” she said, her fingers fluttering over her collar.
I looked at the blue sky on the brochure cover, the paper smooth and thick under my thumb.
“We only want what is safest for you, Clara, given your unsteady steps,” she said, looking down at my ankles with a quick squint.
I rubbed my right knee, feeling the tight pull of the joint beneath my wool trousers, the ache deep and familiar.
My hand remained on my leg, applying steady pressure to dull the pain.
“My steps are my own concern, and my knees have carried me through this house for forty years,” I said.
“The stairs here are steep, and Arthur says the roof will need thirty thousand dollars of work by spring,” Evelyn said, her voice rising slightly.
