Now dressed in his well-worn uniform of khakis and would be white tee shirt, my father stands on scaffolding at the second story window. Next to him is a stack of bricks and a vat of wet cement. In picture after picture he takes his trowel, dips it into the cement, slaps a glob of cement on the edge of the brick and carefully taps it into place.
Excerpt from the book:
“She would surprise him, Abigail thought, waking up in the middle of the night. She’d sell the house and surprise him! She had never acted on impulse a day in her life and there she was, sitting bolt upright in the middle of her bed, deciding to sell. It was to be her Christmas present to Fred. Leaving her life and entering his, a gift she thought, what a wonderful Christmas gift!”
“A Christmas House” to be continued…