Someone to watch over me

few newspaper articles. Few people in Voorburg would want to read about it endlessly.
    This was a self-revelation that made him feel he’d finally grown up as a journalist. Knowing how much to put in and what to leave out. The editor of a small hometown paper couldn’t force too many thoughts and facts down his readers’ throats.
    The other reason he hid, aside from being distracted, was to be there if Mary and the children made good time returning home. It might take her three days if she pushed the mule hard, as many as five or six if she didn’t. The last stage of her journey had to be up one side or the other of the river. Which bridge would she take if she came up the west side, assuming she was sophisticated enough not to attempt to go through New York City proper?
    But if her grandfather had taken them down the east side of the Hudson River, she’d come that way because that was the route she knew.
    His motorcyle battery had died while he was gone, and the sidecar had a flat tire. He’d borrow Ralph’s motorcycle on Saturday, day four, if she hadn’t returned by then, and look up and down Route 9 on both sides to the south of Voorburg.
    He finally came back down to earth early Friday morning and realized he’d be late with his copy to the printer if he let the Brewsters vet his article. It was time, anyway, to assert his independence. If they wanted to touch a word, he’d quit the job and take his precious editorials elsewhere.
    But he needed to tell them this.
    He’d return to Mary’s house on Ralph’s motorcycle and put the typewriter in the sidecar later in the day. He’d carried the heavy, awkward thing here. He wasn’t going to carry it back.
    He tidied up the house. Put a vase of wildflowers on the kitchen table, in case Mary and the children got home while he was gone. He added a note asking her to let him know when she returned.
    Then he took his first article to the printer, and trudged up the hill to Grace and Favor.
    “Oh, Jack! Everybody will be so glad to know you’re back!“ Mrs. Prinney exclaimed, when she opened the door. “When did you eat last? You look so thin and tired! Come in, come in. Nobody’s here but me and Mimi right now. I’ll make you up a sandwich. Come back to the kitchen.”

    Lily had dawdled about returning to the old icehouse. She knew it was right to give the girls the clothes they needed, but parting with them was hard. Her mother had bought one of them as a surprise for her eighteenth birthday. Another was one she’d dearly loved and worn to a party that she’d enjoyed enormously. Besides the memories, she had other things to do before she gave them up. But Friday morning, she packed up the dresses, shoes, and hats in old boxes and some more of Mrs. Prinney’s food and put it all in a wheelbarrow to take it to the icehouse.
    “I’m glad you’re taking them your frocks,“ Mrs. Prinney said. “Did I tell you the girl with the violin case came to the back door to thank me shortly after you gave them food the first time? She asked if she and the others could help with anything, doing laundry, dusting, or such. Wouldn’t Mimi have had a fit! But it was gracious of the girl to express her gratitude so nicely and offer to work.“
    “I suspect she was well raised and well educated,“ Lily said. “It’s not true of the other three, and I think that’s why they defer to her judgment.”
    As Mrs. Prinney was helping Lily arrange things in the wheelbarrow, Lily said, “I went to Jack’s office again yesterday to check the mail. His typewriter is missing. I hope nobody stole it, but I also hope it means he’s back and is using it somewhere. Okay, I’m ready to go, I think.”
    Pushing the wheelbarrow along the nearly abandoned path through the woods was harder than she’d expected, especially as Agatha kept running in circles, barking at the squeaks of the wheel and getting in Lily’s way.
    Naturally this racket alerted the girls, and they met her halfway to help by carrying some of the boxes.
    “What’s all this?“ Judy asked.
    “Mostly dresses,“ Lily said. “And I’ve spoken to the theater owner. He thinks it would be good both for him and for you to play your music in front before and after the movies.”
    Two of the girls screeched with delight and wanted to tear into the boxes there and then. “Ladies,“ Judy warned, “let’s be polite about this, please.”
    The other three ran back to the icehouse with the boxes while Judy