* * *
12:00—After our morning activity, I’ll prepare a simple lunch—mac and cheese or pizza bagels or chicken nuggets. Teddy will go into his bedroom for Quiet Time, and I’ll take an hour for myself. I’ll read a book, or I’ll listen to a podcast on my headphones. Or sometimes I’ll just lie on the couch and catch a twenty-minute catnap. Eventually Teddy will come downstairs and shake me awake and he’ll have one or two new drawings to share. Often he illustrates our favorite activities—he’ll show us walking through the forest or playing in the backyard or hanging around my cottage. I keep these drawings on the door of my refrigerator—a gallery of his artistic progress.
* * *
2:00—This is usually the hottest part of the day, so we’ll stay inside playing Chutes and Ladders or Mouse Trap, and then we’ll slather on sunscreen and go out to the pool. Teddy doesn’t know how to swim （and I’m not very good myself）， so I make sure he puts on floaties before we get in the water. Then we’ll play tag or have a swordfight with the pool noodles. Or we’ll climb atop the large inflatable raft and play make-believe games like Castaway or Titanic.
* * *
5:00—Caroline gets home and I’ll recap my day with Teddy while she starts preparing dinner. Then I’ll go out for a run, anywhere from three to eight miles, depending on what Russell recommends. I’ll pass all kinds of people out on their sidewalks or watering their lawns, and everyone assumes I’m a resident of Spring Brook. Some of the neighbors will even wave and call out hello, like I’ve been living here all my life, like I must be someone’s daughter home from college on summer break. And I love the way it makes me feel—the sense of community—like I’ve finally arrived in the place where I belong.
* * *
7:00—After running I’ll take a quick shower in the world’s smallest bathroom, and I’ll fix myself a simple meal in the cottage’s tiny kitchen. Once or twice a week, I’ll walk downtown to browse the local shops and restaurants. Or I’ll attend an open meeting in the church basement of Our Lady the Redeemer. The discussion leaders are very good and the participants are friendly but I’m always the youngest person in the circle by at least ten years, so I’m not expecting to make a ton of new friends. I certainly don’t stick around for “the meeting after the meeting,” when everyone walks down the block to Panera Bread to complain about their kids, their mortgages, their jobs, etc. After just two weeks of living with the Maxwells, safely cocooned from all temptations, I’m not even sure I need meetings anymore. I think I can handle things on my own.
* * *
9:00—By this time I’m usually in bed, reading a library book or watching a movie on my phone. As a gift to myself, I open a subscription to the Hallmark Channel so I can stream unlimited romances for $5.99 a month, and they’re the perfect way to unwind at the end of the night. As I turn out the light and rest my head on my pillow, I revel in the comfort of happily ever after—of families reunited and scoundrels sent packing, of treasures recovered and honor restored.
* * *
Maybe this all sounds boring. I know it’s not rocket science. I realize I’m not changing the world or curing cancer. But after all my troubles, I feel like I’ve taken a huge step forward, and I’m proud of myself. I have my own place to live and a steady paycheck. I’m cooking nutritious meals and setting aside two hundred a week for savings. I feel like my work with Teddy is important. And I feel validated by Ted and Caroline’s absolute faith in me.
Especially Ted’s. I don’t see much of him during the day, because he leaves for his office at six thirty every morning. But sometimes I’ll see him at night, after I’m back from a run. He’ll be sitting on the patio with his laptop and a glass of wine, or he’ll be out in the swimming pool doing laps, and he’ll wave me over and ask about my run. Or he’ll ask about my day with Teddy. Or he’ll ask my opinion of some random consumer brand—Nike, PetSmart, Gillette, L.L.Bean, and so on. Ted explains that his company designs “back-end software” for big corporations all over the world, and he’s constantly seeking out new partnerships. “What do you think of Urban Outfitters?” he’ll ask me, or “Have you ever eaten dinner at a Cracker Barrel?” And then he’ll really listen to my answers, as if my opinions might actually shape his business decisions. And it’s flattering, to be honest. Apart from Russell, I haven’t met a ton of people who care what I think. So I’m always happy to see Ted, and I always feel a little charge when he invites me over to talk.