“I’m doing his yard,” Noah announced.
“You should probably ask first.”
“He’ll say no.”
Five minutes later, Noah was pushing our mower across the street.
Mr. Vance stared at him for several seconds.
Then he simply pointed toward the side yard.
That became their arrangement.
Every Saturday from spring through fall, Noah mowed the lawn.
He never accepted money.
When I suggested that Mr. Vance should at least pay him something, Noah frowned.
“He can’t do it himself.”
Apparently, that was enough.
Their conversations were almost nonexistent.
