“Help yourself, Mrs. Wren,” she said. “I hope your babies like them better than I do.”
She wandered back down to the front yard, and held yarn while Grandma wound it into balls. When that was finished she changed into her swimming suit and sat on the pier until it was time to go swimming. Dad and Mom insisted on regular swim periods. The children could go in before lunch in the morning, and again between four and five in the afternoon, but they never could go in at odd times by themselves. The swimming always had to be supervised by a grownup.
“You can’t be too careful,” Dad would always say. “You only drown once.”
Ben was busy all morning, and about noon Mrs. Saunders arrived. Mom sent Janie over.
“See if she won’t come over and have lunch with us,” she said.
Mrs. Saunders said “Thank you,” but she was expecting company in the afternoon, and she had a lot of unpacking to do.
The children loved Mrs. Saunders. She was easily the most fabulous neighbor that the Murrays ever had. A quiet, gentle widow, she had inherited a modest sheaf of stocks and bonds from her late husband, but they weren’t ordinary, dry-as-dust stocks and bonds. She owned part of a candy factory.
“Creepers,” Billy exclaimed every time he saw her. “Imagine having all the candy you could eat!”
Mrs. Saunders didn’t come to her lake cottage very often, but when she did, she always brought candy. Not suckers or caramels or fudge, but candy bars. Time was when Janie thought that one candy bar was riches, but Mrs. Saunders always brought a carton at a time. Mom shook her head as Janie returned, smiling from ear to ear, and carrying the familiar carton.
“Whoops!” cried the boys, but Mom reached for the box and put it on top of the piano.