Sophie simply started appearing at our house at 7:20 every morning with her backpack.
I honestly didn’t mind.
She was a sweet kid—quiet at first, but funny once she relaxed.
Emma liked having someone to talk to during the drive, and the school was only about five miles away.
Besides, I had always been the parent people called when something went wrong.
If Greg had to work late, I drove his daughter Mia to soccer.
When Rachel broke her ankle, I handled school pickups for her two boys for almost three weeks.
I had turned around for forgotten lunches, gym clothes, library books, and even one miserable-looking science-project bean plant.
I never kept score.
Helping people had always seemed easier than watching them struggle when I was already going in the same direction.
