She looked up as the heavy glass door swung open and stepped forward into the entryway.

“Morning, Lucy,” Brenda said, her voice quiet and deliberate.

Lucy stepped past the entrance mat and stopped next to Brenda’s boots.

“Morning, Miss Brenda,” Lucy said.

“Art club starts back up this Thursday at three fifteen,” Brenda said.

“We’re painting wooden birdhouses.”

Lucy glanced up at me for a moment, then nodded back at Brenda.

“My colored pencils are in my desk,” Lucy said.