As a toddler I loved burrowing into the freshly laundered clothes in the large crates. Since they’d been drying in the sunshine, I felt warm and cozy as I fell asleep.
The world was perfect, but not for my widowed mom.
On her feet all day, mom washed, dried, and ironed clothes for an orphanage. Removing her shoes, she’d stand on the cool, concrete floor. Unfortunately, she developed varicose veins and, worse, arthritis in both knees.
Mom needed rescuing. Mr. Chalmers, the handsome gardener, seemed made-to-order.