“What about the garden?” Ayn asked.
“For the hundredth time, Ayn,” her dad said, “they said they’d have someone come do the upkeep. Like with the house. Keep an eye on it.”
Leaving the garden to strangers felt like the biggest abandonment of her mom. She had loved tending the garden, and it showed. Their yard was like a paradise with lush plants growing everywhere her mom had been able to squeeze them in. Her mom used to say that the two things that kept her soul right and happy were one, being her mom and two, working in the garden. “Right,” Ayn said, looking away to hide the tears that threatened.
“Time to go,” her dad had said as a solar craft pulled up to the front of the house.
“No, Zoe, you have to stay,” Ayn said when the beastie tried to follow them. “We’ll be back soon.”