November, maybe.

I can’t read the year.”

“So he was out here Thursday.” I nodded at the paper.

“Did he walk the lawn?”

“With a measuring wheel.

Cheryl stood on the porch with a clipboard, writing down whatever he called out.” She leaned back.

“He brought me two pages.

My name on something saying I agreed to that deed, and then the wedding goes on my grass in October.