The Living Room by Robert Whitlow

scrubbed the floors. When she finished, Amy inspected her work with satisfaction but knew no member of the family would notice or thank her. A follow-up thought stopped her. What if Jeff noticed and used it as a reason to push the possibility of a part-time housecleaning job?
    After taking a shower, Amy dressed for lunch. It was a five-minute walk to Natalie’s house. It was a clear, cool day, so she pulled on a burgundy sweater on her way out the door. The air was crisp, and Amy was glad the stifling humidity of summer was gone.
    The developer of their neighborhood had installed narrow concrete sidewalks on one side of the street. The two hundred cookie-cutterhouses in the subdivision were built close together. The total population of Cross Plains was around thirty thousand people, so the neighborhood was one of the biggest residential areas in town. Owners of the homes ran the gamut from retirees wanting to downsize, to young professional couples just starting out, to families like Amy’s with the primary wage earner employed in a high-paying hourly job.
    An older woman walked slowly down her driveway to retrieve a rolling trash container from the curb. The woman looked familiar, but Amy couldn’t remember her name. There wasn’t time for Amy to make a quick detour to the other side of the street.
    “Good morning,” Amy said as she came closer.
    The older woman squinted at her through her glasses.
    “Oh, it’s the author,” she replied. “What are you doing out on a walk? You should be home writing another book. I loved your novel and bought a copy to send to my sister in Phoenix. She liked it, too.”
    Amy desperately tried to recall the woman’s name.
    “Thanks, Mrs. Brewster,” Amy said with relief.
    “Would you have time to meet her for a few minutes when she comes for a visit at Christmas? I don’t want to be a nuisance, but it would mean a lot to her.”
    “Uh, sure. Just let me know. You can stop by my house or I can come to you.”
    “That’s wonderful. She’ll be excited. She goes to a huge church and has loaned her copy of the book to all her friends.”
    Cecilia had told Amy that each book was read by an average of 2.3 readers. Extensive loaning hurt sales, but it also meant the message was getting out to a larger audience. That figure mattered the most to Amy.
    “Let her know I finished a new novel last week. It will be available early next year.”
    “I can’t wait to find out what happens to Ann Marie.”
    “It’s not a sequel. It’s a fresh story with new characters.”
    “But I really liked Ann Marie,” Mrs. Brewster said with obvious disappointment. “Her trust in God even when her husband wasunfaithful to her was so inspirational. And when he asked for her forgiveness, I cried like a baby.”
    This was familiar territory for Amy. Series were popular, especially with female readers, but both of Amy’s books were stand-alone novels. She often had to respond to similar comments forwarded to her website.
    “Me, too,” she answered. “But I think you’re going to enjoy the new novel. It’s called The Everlasting Arms . The title is taken from the first part of Deuteronomy 33:27: ‘The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.’”
    “Oh, I like that already,” Mrs. Brewster said, brightening up.
    “Maybe I can give you and your sister a sneak peek and share a page with you when she visits.”
    “That would be wonderful! But I’m not going to tell her. It’ll be a Christmas surprise.”
    Amy said good-bye and continued her walk. What a writing career lacked in financial stability, it made up for in personal satisfaction.

    Natalie’s house had a brick facing, which made it slightly different from Amy’s house on the outside, but the two houses had identical floor plans. It was odd walking into the same house and seeing it decorated so differently.
    Natalie’s husband worked as a professional photographer. Amy knew that their income