Chapter Fifty

We’d been living in Hartwell for six months now and Mary-Joe was a miracle from above. The kids loved her, she was great with Abigail and she always had a hot meal ready with a side plate of cookies or some dessert she’d whipped up.

I had a cottage built for her a few yards from the house, exactly the way she wanted it, so she wouldn’t have to travel from town. It worked out better for all of us. She said what she thought and meant, she didn’t lie and she took no nonsense from the boys.

“Mary-Joe can you watch the kids tonight?” I asked her one afternoon.

“Sure, are you going on a date?” she asked me.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said.

“Nothing wrong with going out and meeting new people,” she said.

“I meet people all the time,” I said.

“I’m not talking about the cashier at the grocery store,” she said.

“You forgot about the nurse that sells me blood bags for Milo and Mr. Nickerton at the post office …”

“Fine, grow old and die alone,” she said as I laughed.

“I won’t be alone, you’ll be he