Kaylee spent her days helping the old people by the river lake, but this morning her baby wouldn't stop crying, and the elders were waiting. She stood in her small room, torn between two duties. A bed sat against the wall. Beside it, the baby's crib held her red-faced daughter. Kaylee wanted to grow into a mother who could do both, raise her child and still serve the people who needed her. Right now she could barely manage one. She picked up the baby and rocked her by the window. The crying softened, then swelled again. Kaylee's arms ached. She had promised the elders fresh water and warm bread before noon. She had also promised herself she would never leave her daughter alone. So she made a choice. She would not choose between them. She would bring both worlds together. Kaylee laid a blanket on the couch and set her diaper bag beside it. She warmed a bottle at the compact kitchen counter, then tucked the baby against her chest. The flowers on the side table brushed her elbow as she gathered a basket. She carried her daughter down and out toward the elders' cottages by the water. The old people looked up when she arrived with a baby on her hip. One woman set down her cane. Another reached out with shaking hands. "Let me hold her," the woman said, and her voice cracked with joy. Kaylee handed the baby over. The elders passed the child from lap to lap. While they cooed and smiled, Kaylee filled their water jugs and sliced the bread. She swept a porch. She fixed a loose shutter. The work went faster than ever, because she was not rushing home. Home had come with her. By afternoon, the baby slept in an old woman's arms. Kaylee sat on the step and drank the tea they poured for her. For the first time in weeks, she was not split in two. "You should come every day," the oldest man told her. "We can watch the little one. You do the work. She grows with a hundred grandparents." Kaylee laughed. It felt like an answer she had needed for a long time. But when she carried the baby back that evening, she found a folded note pinned to her door. The town council had written it. The elders' cottages sat on land the council now wanted to sell. The families had thirty days to leave. Kaylee read it twice. Her daughter stirred against her shoulder. She had just found a way to raise her child and serve the old people at once. Now someone meant to take the old people's homes away. She pressed the note flat and stared at the dark water. Thirty days.