”“Hmm. Don’t forget to look at the view. It’s a feature of this apartment.”“View?” Moving to the sash window, Ruth held aside the nets. ...��A garden,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t expect that.”“It’s private.” A key was held aloft. “This lets you in.”“Wow!” Gazing out, Ruth imagined lazy mornings standing in her quiet apartment with the window flung wide to let in the sun. She’d sip fresh ground coffee while watching over her piece of Eden, right in the heart of London. Her mind drifted. It was another. “This ISN’T like my non-proposal with Adrienne.”“You sure about that?”“I’m sure.”“So ... you’re saying it would be better for you to cave in and become her boyfriend even if you don’t really want to.”“I DO want to.”“Yes, I can see that. But talk hypothetically with me here for a minute. Reverse the decisions for two seconds so that you want to get back together but she ultimately decides you should remain friends. How would you feel about that?”“I’d...” I paused, took a deep breath, and really. I found Mrs. Johansen and told her everything. I’d learned long ago that communicating with the customer was critically important. She had a few questions so we moved to the bathroom where I showed her rather than told her. I explained the mud was really concrete that would hold the tiles forever. “Most tile men use what’s known as backer board which is really a half-inch sheet of concrete that they glue the tile to. It’s good, but it’s nowhere as good as using wet concrete. Backer board. Without more than a seventh grade education, she was unable to get a good paying job but she worked many jobs that no one else wanted, even if they were minimum-wage tasks. She usually held two at any given time trying to make ends meet for her and her son. Still it just wasn’t enough. They moved from one run-down apartment to another, sometimes having to live in dirty back rooms of places where she worked. Although she usually kept him fed as well as she could, he had learned to scrounge for.