Mrs. Schroedinger shook her head. “That child is a dear. I’ll be here in the morning, same as usual, I ‘spect?”
“That’d be great, thanks.” Preston pulled the door shut behind them and helped her down the porch steps, then walked her to the end of their walk. There he waited, watching her until she made it to her own stoop. Only after she disappeared into her own home and the light flickered on inside did he head back in and lock up himself.
His first stop upstairs was Abby’s room. Though his daughter prided herself on being a big girl at eight, she still slept with a nightlight, a small round LED bulb that turned on automatically in the dark and cast a cool blue glow beneath her bed. It barely illuminated her sheets, or her slumbering face resting on the pillow, though for some reason, Preston could easily pick out the beady eyes of the stuffed bunny she cuddled with as she slept.