More renovation talk

Mom was in her hydroponic garden, watering her plants. I'm told she insisted on having the garden when she moved in with dad. Mom is big on gardening, and she's also big on growing our own food. I think, ever since Bassy and I were small, other than my trips to Egypt, I've never really eaten anything that wasn't home grown. She kept us on a really, really strict diet. And there are more than enough fresh fruits and veggies in the fridge to sustain us should the unthinkable happen.

"How are the renovations coming along?" she asked.

"Well there are a couple of possibilities," she said. "Dad's already looked at the work of a couple of architects and he's trying to choose between them."

"I see. Well, you know there has to be space for a home garden."

"Yeah."

"And at least three bedrooms."

"Yeah."

"And a workout room, art studio, and a basement for nectar."

Mom, I get it. You're particular.

"Vanna, I -- I just want to tell you how really impressed I've been over the last few weeks."

"With what?"

"With you, with how much more responsibility you've assumed in the household. Including firing maids."

"How'd you know about that?"

"Donovan Blalock's brother told me at work. Why'd you do it, Savannah?"

"If you'd have seen him, you'd have done the same thing, admit it."

"What was he doing?"

"He was taking the faucet off the shower. He was probably going to have the gold smelted and sold for cash."

"How do you know he wasn't just cleaning it?"

"Mom, nobody cleans faucets with a screwdriver." I left her in the garden with that little morsel.

Speaking of mom, her recent studio portrait shows a woman totally at ease with her lot in life. She clearly likes the idea of being wealthy now, even though, like my father, she wasn't born to it. She is still quite a beautiful woman, though some of the photographs that exist of her when she was younger reveal she was a knockout.