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she was seriously considering leaving them to expire over the winter. As tempted as she was to leave them, she could not abandon something whose beauty had brought her so much pleasure, especially over the summer. They should not have to face a freezing winter, just because her back was expressing a little ache. Sighing, she continued trenching, tugging, and shoveling out more dirt.
    "Grandma, are you watching? You didn't see me!" Isaac exclaimed from the center of the front yard, disappointment obvious in his stance. Raising up back on her haunches with her hand to the small of her back, Sylvie turned looking over her shoulder towards her grandson. His look was of impatient petulance. "I'm sorry, baby, do it again. I'm watching now." Isaac plopped down on the lawn, crossing his arms with his brows drawn and his bottom lip rolled out and under. "No! Grandma, I did it soooo good and you wasn't watchin' me. It ain't gonna work again!" he whined. Sylvie stretched her back, put down her digging utensils and turned, crawling across the lawn toward her grandsons.
    Darren, the baby...eleven months old and into everything, was held up from his usual adventures due to the marvelous invention—the playpen. Now he stood peering over the top of it, laughing out loud at the funny prowling crawl that his grandma was performing. Tears falling from his eyes as he laughed, he obviously thought she was doing this to entertain him, and was succeeding. Isaac also thought it funny because his petulance transformed into a struggle not to laugh, and engaged him in whatever plans his grandmother had as she slowly made her way towards them.
    "Isaac Anthony Prescott, if you don't get up from that ground and show your grandma how absolutely wonderful you just executed, what was probably the most perfect somersault ever done in the history of all men and little boys—who have ever done somersaults—I will simply grab you right here in this front yard, body slam you to the grass, and blow the loudest, wettest, zerberts on your belly that you have ever experienced in all of your life!" Sylvie threatened as she slowly crawled to an expectant Isaac, who was now laughing and growing weak as he made an attempt at getting up from the ground to get away from her; but to succeed in that would cheat him from the gut-wrenching joy and fun of the laughter it would provide.
    Clipping along at a moderate speed, this was the scene that Everett Styles rode up on his Harley to see. Sylvie dressed in sweats, her hair wild from the fall wind blowing, with leaves and dry grass clinging to her as she rolled on her front lawn with a small boy. He glanced up to see another younger child standing in a playpen, smiling and laughing at the antics that he probably wanted to be in on. His presence was quickly noted, however, by the child wrapped in Sylvia's arms whom he heard loud and clear. "Grandma! Grandma! A motorcycle! I wanna see da motorcycle!" Isaac exclaimed with full animation, jumping to his feet.
    With dread, Sylvia didn't have to turn around to see who the motorcycle belonged to. Slowly she came to her feet, dusting off her sweat pants as she did. The rumbling, roaring noise of it was scaring Darren. She made a sad face and walked up to him. Reaching into the playpen, she picked him up, consoling him as his head dodged around hers, which was blocking him from seeing the spectacle. Resigned, Sylvia turned around and was shocked to see Isaac in the road at the motorcycle talking to Everett Styles. "Isaac Prescott! What are you doing in that road? Who told you you could go in the road and talk to that man! You don't know him!"
    "It's a motorcycle, grandma!" he shot back, as if that was enough to explain what was apparent to the eye. Sylvie was furious as she marched the short way across her yard. Holding Darren close to her, her eyes shooting back and forth between Isaac and Everett, stopping to look both directions on the road before crossing over to them herself. "Do