“I guess you'd like to have one," Jane said. "Like one? Who wouldn't?”

Jane fished the keys out of her pocket. "Then why don't you take this one?”

Mike stared at the keys. Then looked at her. Then at the keys.

“You mean—?”

Jane nodded. "It's yours.”

Mike and Scott fell on each other, slapping, punching, and yelping. Mike grabbed Jane in a bear hug. "Jeez, Mom! Jeez! I can't believe it!”

Shelley had come out to join them when she heard the boys shouting. Scott was making a hideous yodeling noise while doing a victory dance around the truck and stopped to hug her. "Too cool! Too cool!" he crooned. "Mrs. J, you really came through," he said, mauling her in turn.

“We've gotta show the guys," Mike said, jingling the car keys.

“Don't forget the deli opening is in an hour," Jane warned.

Mike slapped his forehead. "Jeez!" he repeated. "Okay. Just a little drive then.”

He and Scott got in the truck and sat for a few minutes, petting and caressing various parts of the interior and talking incomprehensible gibberish about the mechanics. Mike turned the key and they both made orgasmic noises as the engine revved to life. Mike hopped back out, gave his mother another hug and smack of a kiss, and asked if she wanted to ride along.

“No way, thanks. Don't forget your job." The boys roared off and Jane watched until they were out of sight.

“Want a cup of coffee?" Shelley asked. Jane sighed. "No, thanks. I believe I'll just go inside and have a good cry.”

The old house Sarah Baker and her sister had inherited was spruced up and looking lovely. The clapboards had been repaired and painted a pristine white with shiny black shutters for accent. The old cement walk had been replaced with a wide brick one in an old-fashioned herringbone pattern and had a border of sweet-scented thyme along the edges. A martin house had pink morning glories twining their way up the post. The original wraparound porch at the front and sides had been enclosed with floor-to-ceiling crank-out windows, which were opened today.