“Naw,” snorted Ma, mortified that someone had seen her and Sunny dancing. And kissing.

“Yeah!” countered Marvalyn.

“I like to think we’ve still got it,” said Sunny, winking as he took the needle off the record, stopping the music.

“You do!” giggled Marvalyn.

“Pshh,” said Ma. “Listen, you better get down there and finish up. It’s after eight.”

All laundry had to be completed by 10 p.m.—house rule.

“Oh, I just have to switch stuff over to the dryer,” said Marvalyn.

“You got plenty of time, dear,” assured Sunny.

“Yeah—sorry if I interrupted anything,” said Marvalyn, and she started toward the door to the basement.

“You didn’t interrupt nothin’,” barked Ma. She knew this was a lie and was deeply disappointed that she and Sunny had been interrupted. But you sacrifice some privacy when you operate a boardinghouse.

“G’night, Marvalyn,” said Sunny.

“’Night!” called Marvalyn, and she headed down the stairs to the basement.

When she reached the staircase landing, she hung a left and entered the laundry room, a public, utilitarian space that had two washing machines, two dryers, two clothes-folding tables, and a bench in the middle of the room—and lots of signage, reminding people not to overload the machines and to clean out the lint filters. One of the signs read, “Ma Dudley isn’t your mother. So clean up after yourself.”

The washing machines weren’t quite finished with their cycles when Marvalyn arrived, so she turned on the radio that was on the shelf between some laundry detergent and some fabric softener and an old coffee can labeled “the pay-what-you-CAN.” And she tuned the radio to the country station out of Presque Isle. A song about sunshine, summertime, and six-packs came on, and Marvalyn turned it up and danced and wished it was summer. And then went over to the bookshelf to see what there was to read while she killed the couple of minutes that were left on the spin cycle.

Someone had added a magazine called YOU! to the magazine collection—probably the new girl who had moved in on the second floor a few weeks ago. Her name was Vivian. Or Vicky. Or Veronica. Or some weird name that began with a V. She seemed like a really nice person.

Marvalyn felt herself get all tingly when she saw what the cover story of the YOU! magazine was: “YOUR GUIDE TO A MARVELOUS LIFE: Be the Best YOU Ever!”

Because it seemed that the current issue had been written especially for her.

Marvalyn had always hoped she’d have a marvelous life. Her mother hoped so, too. That was why she had given her daughter her unusual name: Marvalyn. It was a name to live up to.

But Marvalyn hadn’t quite lived up to it yet.

But she still hoped that she’d be able to. And maybe the YOU! magazine article on how to have a marvelous life could get her back on track.

Marvalyn had just started reading when a buzzer cut through the country music on the radio and let her know her clothes were clean. She put her YOU! magazine on the dryer and unloaded her laundry from the washers and transferred the wet clothes to the dryers and threw a couple of fabric softener sheets into the machines, and then she closed the dryer doors and set the timers for thirty-five minutes and hit both start buttons. She put a dollar (for the use of the machines) and a couple of quarters (for the detergent and fabric softener she had used) into the pay-what-you-CAN, picked up the YOU! magazine, and started reading her article again, eager to see what she needed to do to make her life marvelous.