Tyler hesitated. “If I can.”
“Come back Saturday,” Dad said. “Six in the morning.”
Tyler looked at me.
I shrugged. I didn’t know either. I had no idea what my father was talking about.
“Six in the morning,” Tyler repeated. “This Saturday?”
“This Saturday.”
“Can I ask why?”
Dad finally let go of his hand.
“There’s something I’d like you to see,” he said. “Before you decide.”
Tyler looked at the garden. He looked at Dad. He looked at the gray house next door, at the empty deck.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Six a.m. Saturday. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you, son.”
Tyler walked back to his little white car. He sat in it for a minute before he drove away, looking at his clipboard.
I turned to my father.
“What’s on Saturday?”
Dad picked up his bucket from the porch.
“Saturday’s Saturday,” he said.
