“We can hang it up right now,” she said.

By eleven forty-five the sun was right over the oak trees, warming the gravel drive.

Sophie took a small iron hammer and a box of brass nails out of the tote bag and brought them over to the front step board.

“Hold it right there,” she said, holding the wooden sign centered over the door frame.

I stepped back three paces into the sun to check that it was straight.

“Bring the left side up about half an inch,” I said.