Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter by Lisa Patton

“Where’s Gracie, Daddy?”
    “She’s back in our apartment. Let’s go find her.”
    What if he wasn’t able to improve the apartment? I thought. Nothing could be done to increase the size, but a décor change was nonnegotiable. When we moved in that direction, I could see the door between the inn and our quarters was open and now we could move freely between the two places. Baker put Sarah down and stood behind me, covering my eyes with his hands. The four of us walked slowly into our living area.
    “Steady, steady, let me turn you around. On the count of three, open your eyes. One, two, three !”
    I opened my eyes to yellow. A bright, beautiful shade of my second favorite color (peach is my number one). The hideous burnt orange was gone and the doors and windows had changed from chocolate brown to white. The new tan Berber carpet, along with the fresh paint, drastically improved the aroma.
    “What do you think? Do you like the yellow?”
    “I do. It’s beautiful, Baker, you’ve really been working hard.” I threw my arms around him and gave him a big kiss.
    Gracie came running up and pawed on the front of my calves. “Oh, Gracie, you’ve missed us, old girl.” After putting Issie down, I picked up the dog and kissed the top of her head. She stunk to high heaven, but what could I expect? She’d been running around in a musty, BO-infested house for two weeks.
    “Let me hold her,” Issie said, and reached out for Gracie.
    “Where’s my room?” Sarah asked, and started toward one of the bedrooms.
    “Hang on, let’s go upstairs first,” Baker told her. “I want y’all to see what I’ve done up there.”
    We ran up the steps to see the transformation. It, too, looked like a different place. The original character of the room stood out now, and the wooden beams made a lovely contrast to the freshly painted ecru walls. Logs in the Franklin stove popped, warming the room. The white kitchen cabinets Baker promised were gleaming from the fresh coat he had finished earlier in the day.
    As it turns out, if it hadn’t been for the two woodchucks he hired to help with the renovation, Baker would have never gotten it ready before we arrived. I learned that woodchuck is the nickname for a Vermonter equivalent to the Southern hick. They wear those lumberjack red plaid coats and hats with earflaps to match, like the ones my friends wore at the luncheon. (Sharp accents and lots of facial hair are two more characteristics of the woodchuck.)
    Sarah tugged on my coat and pleaded with us. “ Now can I see my room?”
    “What are we waiting for?” Baker said, and grabbed her hand.
    We all scurried back down the stairs. The doors to both of the bedrooms, which sat side by side, were shut. With a big grin on his face, Baker slowly opened her door. Since it was the size of a postage stamp, joy was not the emotion I would use to describe the way Sarah felt when she first saw her new bedroom. The twin beds were unmade and boxes were everywhere. But, the walls were pink, just like she wanted.
    Sarah’s smile drooped into a frown.
    “We’ll get it looking beautiful,” I said, and caressed the top of her head. “Don’t worry, sweetie, it’ll only take a couple of days. You’ll love it. I promise.”
    She shot Baker a sour look.
    “It’s pink, Sarah. Aren’t you happy about that?” he said.
    “I guess so.” She hung her head and dropped her backpack on the floor.
    Issie was happy to see Gracie and had no comment.
    I felt bad for Sarah. She so loved her room back home. It’s not like it was huge or anything, but her bedspreads matched and the area rug was pink and white. It was full of stuffed animals and there was plenty of room for her dollhouse. She spent hours playing in there and had plenty of friends from school to invite over anytime. Here in Vermont, the dollhouse would obviously have to go out in the hall.
    I had no expectations of what our microscopic bedroom would look like, so when I opened the door