"Weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all—that's how the song goes. But, thank you." He stood, pulled a baseball cap down on his forehead, and touched the brim in salute. "I'll be getting along." He walked out.
"B.B. King," Oliver said. "Didn't he sing that?"
"Never mind, Oliver; we're bringing the good luck with us."
"Congratulations," Martha said.
"Oh, thank you!" Jennifer jumped up and hugged her. "Come on, Oliver.
We've got to move."
A week later, Oliver was sleeping in a new bed, high off the floor. The physical move doesn't take long, he thought; getting used to it takes a while. He missed knowing that Arlen and Porter were downstairs. Porter had made an extravagant cake for Jennifer the week after she had Emma. Driving home from Deweys to North Yarmouth wasn't as easy as walking up the hill to State Street. No five minute walk to Becky's for breakfast, either. On the other hand, he had a good work space in the barn, and it was quiet at night.
Oliver counted his blessings. Verdi had made his first patrols and was adjusting. The leaves were changing color fast. It was beautiful, really. Jennifer loved the new house. Emma had a room with a baby bed and a playpen right next to their bedroom. There were plenty of projects; that was fun. Old storm windows were leaning against the wall in one corner of the barn. He had to clean them and figure out where they went. There was a wooden ladder missing a couple of rungs.
Oliver swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. "I'm going to go buy a decent ladder. I want to put those storm windows in."
Jennifer yawned. "Come back soon."
"I won't be long."