Ron cried, “Grady! Grade-A! You bugger! Come on in!” Sharla just stood by the kitchen island, waiting. “Nice place,” Grady said, looking around. Smiling now, in the warmth. “You lucked out here!” The house was big. Open plan, lots of wood cabinets. A long island with a granite top between the kitchen and the living room. Velour recliners with drink holders, giant TV. Wheel of Fortune was on. “Built the house last year—before that we were in the barracks. Or what used to be the barracks, in the old days. It was bad, eh, Sharla?” He laughed, she didn’t. “But Sharla’s dad is a builder. He came for three months, and we put in some sweat, got ’er up in no time.” Linoleum in the kitchen, beige carpet everywhere else. I would have gone for hardwood if it had been our house. Except of course our house was old and rented, my dad not being a builder. Not one to hand out emergency credit cards, either. But he had stopped drinking. So if I decided to take Daisy to live in Regina, staying with my dad might be okay.
