Bitter Harvest Read Free

losing heat, and possibly leaking fumes.”
    Meg sighed: one more problem, and an expensive one, no doubt. “Do I have to do something right this minute? It won’t explode or anything, will it?”
    “It’s not life-threatening, but I won’t promise it will last the winter.”
    “There’s no patch job you can do?”
    He shook his head. “Nope. It’s a cast metal heating chamber, and once it goes, it’s gone. From the look of it, it’s had a good long run, but it’s reached the end of its time. Sorry, Meg.”
    “I guess I knew it was coming. Tell me, is the furnace more or less important than the roof? If I have to prioritize?”
    “Can’t say without taking a look at your attic and seeing if it’s leaking, or maybe I should say, how badly it’s leaking. Have you been up there lately?”
    “No. I don’t like it up there—it’s dirty, and kind of creepy. I took one look at it when I moved in and I haven’t been back since.”
    “I can check it out for you.”
    “Seth, I appreciate the offer, but you can’t do everything. You aren’t a roofer!”
    “But I know some guys—”
    Meg interrupted him, “Yes, and I’m sure they’ll give me a good deal.” When Seth looked hurt at her comment, she went on, “Sorry, I’m being ungrateful. It’s just that all these things that absolutely, positively must be done keep landing on my head, and I have no idea how I’m going to pay for them. That’s why I need to know if I’ve made any kind of profit this past year.”
    Seth smiled. “I know. Houses—and businesses—will do that to you. You can plan all you want, but there’s always something that sneaks up on you. At least you don’t have to worry about floods. Or earthquakes—we don’t get a lot of those in New England.”
    “Granford will probably be the epicenter for the first one in two hundred years, with my luck.”
    Seth drained his coffee and stood up. “I’ve got some inventory to check, and I’ll let you get back to your paperwork. Let me look into options for a new furnace for you.”
    There was no stopping him, the ever-helpful Seth. “Fine. Thank you. And thanks for catching the goats.”
    “My pleasure. See you later.”
    He headed out the door, leaving Meg at the table with her coffee and a warm and purring cat on her lap. On reflection, she realized she wasn’t devastated by the news of her ailing—no, dying —furnace; at least, not as much as she would have been a few months earlier. She’d proven to herself that she could cope with all sorts of crises, and at least this one had an easy solution, even if it was an expensive one. Funny, she’d left a job managing six- and seven-figure amounts of money for municipalities, and now she was worrying about a couple of thousand here and there.
    She looked down at a very content Lolly. “Hey, cat, I’ve got work to do. Want to come along? The lap goes with me.”

2
    Meg was enjoying breakfast the next morning when Bree stumbled down the back stairs that led from her room. Her slight frame was buried under layers; she had on a turtleneck under a heavy wool sweater, corduroy pants, thick socks, and even a hat jammed down over her long dark hair. “Morning,” Meg said. “Are you cold?”
    “Freezing. Is the coffee hot?”
    “It is. I’m sorry, apparently the furnace is on its last legs. Seth diagnosed it as terminal yesterday. Besides, I think your room”—Meg nodded her head toward the room over the kitchen—“was intended for the hired hands, and they didn’t need heat, right?”
    “Well, I do.” Bree sat down with a mug of coffee and wrapped both hands around it.
    “Then let’s hope it keeps going a little longer, because I can’t afford to do anything about it right now. Speaking of affording, how’re you coming with those figures?”
    “I’m working on it,” Bree said, avoiding Meg’s eyes.
    This was the part of being “management” that Meg really didn’t like. “Bree, it’s important. We’ve