“Bob! Noble friend! Trusty sidekick!” She stood up, an elementary-age kid wearing leggings with rainbows and a T-shirt with a sloth on it. Her shiny hair was cut in a bob, and her face was filled with delight. She ran over and threw herself on Bob.

“Queen Clare,” said Bob, lifting her up and swinging her around. “How are things in the kingdom?”

“Fine,” she replied, looking at Laura. “Who’s this?”

“This is Laura,” said Bob. “She’s a new friend.”

Clare reached out and shook hands with Laura, her little grip firm. “Are you a gardener, too?”

“No,” said Laura, “I’m studying to be a physical therapist.”

Clare was interested. “What’s that?”

“She’ll help people who’ve been injured or sick or whatever,” said Bob, going back to grab tools from the back of the truck, “teaching them to walk, things like that.”

Clare’s eyes brightened hopefully. “Could you teach them to fly?”

Laura shook her head. “No,” she said, but then thought about it for a second and added, “unless they could fly before, I guess.”

“And if they could?” Clare was completely ready to pursue this line of conversation, viewing reality as, frankly, a creative impediment.

Laura shrugged. “Then, yeah, if they could explain how they did it before, I could probably help them do it again.” Laura wondered how she’d found herself saying this, but Clare seemed to take it in stride.

“That’s cool,” she said, filing away the information, “but today you’re going to help Bob?”

Laura nodded. “Gardening, not flying.”

“Right,” said Clare, sitting back down to continue her chalking. “Because he can’t fly anyway.” She seemed to think his feelings might be hurt by this extremely factual statement, and quickly added, “But he’s good at other things.” She waited a hair too long to add, “Probably.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Bob, pausing on his way into the house. “Is everyone here already?”

Clare shook her head and lowered her voice. “The people are nice, but the garden is too small for me to do anything except get in the way, my mom said. So she gave me chalk.” She looked up at them. “What shall I draw now?”

“A cat,” said Laura.

“You’re like my mom,” said Clare complainingly. “She always says draw a cat.”

Laura shrugged. “They’re cute, they’re easy to draw.”

“Do you know a cat’s whiskers help them not get stuck in things?” Clare started drawing a cat. “That’s what my friend Nina told me. She knows lots of things.”

“Nina from the bookstore?” Laura asked.

“Yes,” nodded Clare. “She’s going out with my uncle’s brother, you know.”

“I don’t think Laura’s interested in Nina’s love life, Clare,” said Bob.

Clare frowned at him. “Everyone’s interested in other people, Bob.”

Bob rolled his eyes at Laura. “Coming in?”