“The rules, your household chores, and wakeup times are posted on the inside of the door and also in the bathroom, in case you forget anything.” Winnie held her son Ben Junior on her slender hip, his chubby arms flailing as she tapped the list on the back of the bedroom door with her pink-tipped nail.Bernie sucked in a deep breath of air—blissfully cool air. It seemed the rehabilitation house had air conditioning, and that was just fine by her.Her bedroom—yellow and blue with white trim—faced a ...backyard filled with beautiful gardens. Enormous hydrangeas bloomed everywhere, blue, white and purple, their round heads defying the odds by surviving the heat.Thick patches of purple salvia stood tall behind rows and rows of lavender and blush heather. Pink and white begonias bordered the rock walls scattered with small hanging lanterns, and lights twinkled from strands draped over the fence and around the spiral trees.“Your gardens are amazing,” Bernie said on a wistful breath. In fact, everything here at the rehabilitation house was amazing.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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