Silas parked and they got out. He wore old jeans and a flannel shirt from the days when they had a yard to work in. Adeline wore practical pants and a sweater, her gray hair tied back in a no-nonsense ponytail.
They were just about to begin when an SUV slowed on the road and pulled over. The Morrisons stepped out, phones in hand.
“Oh my God,” Mrs. Morrison said loudly. “They actually came back.”
Mr. Morrison was already taking pictures.
“This is incredible, honey. Get one of me in front of it. This is going to be hilarious on Facebook.”
Adeline felt heat rise to her face, but she said nothing. Silas laid a hand on her shoulder, a quiet reminder to keep her dignity.
“Excuse me,” Mrs. Morrison called. “Are you really planning to live here?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Silas answered evenly.
“In this?” She gestured at the vine-covered structure. “This is barely bigger than a garden shed. How could two people possibly manage?”
“We’ll manage,” Adeline said before Silas could answer. “Thank you for your concern.”
“Concern?” Mr. Morrison laughed. “We’re not concerned. We’re amazed. This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.”
He took several more pictures, making sure Adeline and Silas were in the frame.
“Wait until the town sees this. The Carters bought a shack for three bucks and think they’re homeowners.”
Mrs. Morrison was already typing.
“I’m posting it right now. Riverside, Vermont: what not to do. You can’t make this up.”
Silas felt his jaw tighten, but Adeline squeezed his hand.
“Let them,” she whispered. “It doesn’t matter.”
But it did matter.
Over the next hour, as Adeline and Silas began clearing vines and sweeping out their tiny home, more cars slowed. More people stopped to stare. More comments floated through the cold air, some just loud enough to hear.
“Did you see the Carters bought that old shed?”
“Three dollars for that pile of sticks.”
“More cents than sense.”
“I heard they’re going to live in it.”
“At their age? That’s sad.”
“Not sad. Pathetic.”
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