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set of cracked and crumbling concrete stairs and a crooked metal railing. The flagstone patio had been long overgrown with weeds, the stones themselves sunken into the dirt and covered with moss, but Sean had already announced plans for a big deck that would take advantage of the sloping yard and view of the creek, what there was of it. She’d only looked at it the first time they saw the house, and the summer had been dry enough to make it rather unimpressive. Enough to dip your toes in, maybe, no more than that. All she’d cared about was how far the water was from the house, and if the basement had a sump pump—which it did. Also, according to the realtor, that creek hadn’t flooded in over twenty years, and only then after an unusual inland hurricane.
    â€œYou’ll never need to worry about water from that creek,” Bonnie had said. “But you have the sump pump downstairs in the basement, just in case.”
    Ginny took one step onto the concrete stairs before deciding she wasn’t about to go tumbling down into the yard just to chase after a few noisy kids. If it kept up, she’d have to go over and talk to their parents, and “bitchy” wouldn’t be the best introduction to the neighborhood. She listened for the sound of rustling leaves and the screaming laughter, but all she caught was the scamper of a squirrel in the tree and the sound of a truck in the street out front.
    She lifted her face to the fresh autumn air. Took a long, deep sniff. This was her favorite time of year. Sean always said he didn’t like fall, when the days got shorter. He said there was never enough time to do everything you wanted to in a day when the winter came, but Ginny’d always liked the sorts of things you did in the dark anyway.
    Her cell phone rang from her pocket, the ringtone telling her without even looking that it was Sean. She debated for half a second about not answering—the call reminded her of the juice spill, which annoyed her all over again. But if she didn’t answer, he’d call back or send a text, and if she didn’t answer those… Well, she didn’t want to find out what her husband would do if he couldn’t get in touch with her at once. If there was any worse introduction to the neighbors than bitching to them about their wayward spawn, a police car, fire truck and/or ambulance screeching up to the front of the house would be it.
    She went back into the kitchen as she thumbed the screen to answer the call. “Hi.”
    â€œHey, it’s me. What’re you up to?”
    â€œNothing. What’s up?”
    She glanced at the clock. Nearly noon, and she hadn’t yet eaten. That was no good, even if she had woken just past eleven. Typically, the nausea had passed and she was ravenous. The problem was, did they have any food? Pizza, after the heartburn of the night before, was completely unappealing. She tried to remember the few groceries she’d brought along and drew a blank. Baby brain, her sister had called it. The inability of a pregnant woman to retain information of current importance.
    â€œâ€¦so do you need me to get you anything?” This was Sean, who’d been talking for a good few minutes while Ginny stared into the fridge and mentally checked off everything inside it as unappealing.
    Her stomach rumbled. She reached for a string cheese and tore the plastic. Took a bite. “We’re out of everything. As soon as I get something to eat and clean up the kitchen, I’ll run to the store.”
    â€œDon’t work too hard,” Sean warned. “You should take it easy.”
    Maybe if he hadn’t spilled the juice and left it for her to clean, she wouldn’t have been so immediately irritated by his admonition, but as it was, Ginny had to count to five before saying, “All this stuff won’t unpack itself, Sean.”
    â€œBut, honey, you know you need to be