And she worried about them, because both her parents were in the more at-risk demographic for the pandemic. Since they came out to the construction site every day with the other construction workers, they had to be doubly careful.

“Hey, Mama,” Linnea said. “The house looks wonderful. It’s got the Rutledge stamp of style.”

Palmer beamed and turned to look again at the house. “I told you my daughter had an eye. Yes, indeed. It’s coming along nicely.”

“I love it,” Julia said. Then, looking at Palmer, “I wouldn’t mind moving into it myself.”

“Let’s not beat that ol’ horse again,” Palmer said.

“We might get more for the beach house,” Julia countered.

Palmer ignored that, and it was just as well. Everyone knew Julia was right. This house, as pretty as it was, set in Mount Pleasant would never fetch more on the market than a beachfront house on Sullivan’s Island. It went without saying that the beach house, no matter how much her mother hated it, was their ace in the hole financially.

“Have you had any delays?” Linnea asked, referring to the virus. “The news said everything was getting backed up.”

“Nope, knock on wood,” Palmer replied, tapping his head with humor. “I’ve got a right good team. They show up.”

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Julia said. “There are delays on deliveries of the appliances. And the lighting fixtures, the bathrooms. Pretty much everything I need to install.” She gave her husband a look of encouragement. “But we’ve got time for all that.”

They heard a short squeal, and all turned to see Hope holding a green anole by its tail at the marsh edge. Then, with a spasm, the little lizard leaped from her hand, leaving its tail in Hope’s fingers. She screamed, shaking her hands, as the anole fled back into the marsh.

Linnea hurried to her side. “It’s all right.”

Hope’s face twisted in distress. “I killed it,” she cried.

Linnea’s heart went out to the child and she hugged her. “No, you didn’t. That’s a special way the lizards escape. If another animal bites it, they can lose their tail and run away. It will grow back.”

“It will?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Hope wiped her eyes, mollified, still working it out in her mind. “Where did it go?”

Linnea’s lips twitched. “The anole or the tail?”

“The anole.”

“Someplace in the marsh to rest.”

“Oh. Okay.” Hope picked up her stick and walked off in search of more critters.

As Linnea walked back to her parents, she called out, “Don’t get your shoes muddy, hear?”

“Honey, that’s like telling a child not to breathe. Mark my words, you’ll be washing those sneakers tonight.” Her mother turned back and looked at Linnea with a bemused expression. “Look at you, being so motherly. I don’t mind saying, it looks good on you. You know, I was your age when you were born.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Mama,” Linnea said with a short laugh. “I don’t even have a boyfriend.”