Eliza shook her head immediately. “No, sir. Together. That’s fine for us.”
That’s fine for us.
The words landed heavier than they should have.
I really saw them then—the worn sneakers, the dirt already lodged under their fingernails, the way they stood too straight for kids their age.
They weren’t asking for charity.
They were offering honest work at a price they couldn’t afford to set higher.
“Alright,” I said. “Deal.”
Noah smiled just for a second, like he didn’t want to waste it. Eliza’s face lit up completely, relief spilling over.
They got to work right away.
Watching Them Work
What followed surprised me.
They didn’t rush.
They didn’t cut corners.
They worked like the yard belonged to them.
Noah handled the heavier tasks—dragging branches, hauling bags. Eliza moved carefully but thoroughly, pulling weeds by the roots, sweeping corners most people ignore.
At one point, I noticed Eliza sweeping the sidewalk outside the fence.
“You don’t have to do that,” I called out.
She looked up, brushing hair from her face.
“It should look right,” she said simply.
Not good enough.
Not finished.
Right.