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Then one twin said, “I think Mrs. Fletcher is going to work us to death.”

“She is not.”

“She said we’d learn to like green beans.”

“A frightening woman,” Aaron murmured.

I looked at him.

He sobered.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know.”

I dropped the boys at their homes and returned toward pack land.

My phone rang before I reached the lower gate. Aunt Linda. I answered through the truck speakers. “Hudson, are you nearby?”

“I’m driving home.”

“Wonderful. I have several tree branches down behind the shed.”

“Are they blocking anything?”

“No, but they look terrible,” she said.

“Is the fence damaged?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Any electrical lines involved?”

“No.”

“Then I can clear them this weekend.”

Silence followed. “I thought you might do it today.”

“I can’t today.”

Another silence.

Aunt Linda cleared her throat. “Are you busy?”

“Yes.”

“With pack work?”

“No.”

“What are you doing?”

“I have a date.”

Her surprise came through clearly. “Oh.”

“I’ll handle the branches Saturday morning.”