basement first thing and turn them back on. Oh, and you’ll need to run the water ’til it clears. Sediment builds up in the pipes something awful. Now, what’s Brad’s number? I’m going to give that loser a piece of my mind.”
* * * *
When Jade made it back to the house, she was greeted with a cellophane-wrapped plate of snickerdoodles and a business card stuck between the sun porch door and the jamb. Tucking a Perfect Pita take-out bag under one arm, she plucked the card free. It was for Herald and Son Lawn Service. The handwritten message on the back said, I meant to give you this when you stopped by earlier. This service does a wonderful job, and they are affordable. All my best, Betty M.
“Okay, okay, I can take a hint.”
An hour into their visit, Grandma Nina had announced she needed a nap and told Jade to get some lunch and move her stuff into the house. Like the dutiful granddaughter she was, she obeyed to the letter. Once she’d dragged all her bags up to the master bedroom, which her grandmother had insisted she take, she headed for the shed out back to look for a lawn mower.
It would suck mowing a lawn in the hazy Vermont humidity, but after a three-hour drive, fast food, and the best snickerdoodles known to man, a workout was in order. Besides, it was weird being in the house alone. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been inside without her sister or her grandmother or Grandpa Earl. Mowing the lawn would give her time to work up the courage to stay in the big, old house all by her lonesome tonight.
The backyard used to be beautiful with its three acres of lawn sloping to the bank of a lily-pad covered pond. A screened-in gazebo near the bank made the perfect summer-night refuge for two little girls with sleeping bags and flashlights. Tall pines, maples, and birches blended with neighboring properties to create a magical woodland ripe for exploration. It had been a kid’s paradise.
Now the grass was patchy and knee-high. Weeds hid the lattice-skirt of the gazebo. Even the quaint red shed behind the house sported streaks of rust. Grandma Nina would flip if she knew how bad it looked. Good thing she would never know. Jade would get it ship-shape in no time.
The smallest of her grandmother’s keys opened the padlock on the tool shed. Jade let her eyes adjust to the dark then scanned the interior for a lawn mower. There. Huddled among the hanging, rusty yard tools was one of those push mowers with twisty blades. Those were rusty too.
“Well, damn it.” With the grass high enough to lose a toddler in, a rust-locked push-mower wasn’t going to cut it. Seeing as she didn’t owe Grandma Nina rent until she landed a job, she figured she could cover lawn care until she could afford to splurge on a mower from Sears.
Shutting out the heat with the kitchen’s sliding glass door, she dialed Herald and Son Lawn Service and listened to the voicemail kick in. The isolation of small-town life must have already started to sink in, because the friendly and masculine invitation to leave a message had her thinking about lazy hours around beer-stained pool tables. Shaking off the wistful longing, she left her message then went up to the turret bedroom to unpack.
When she’d come upstairs earlier, she’d only stopped long enough to drop her bags inside the master bedroom. It had been dark inside with the drapes drawn, but she hadn’t bothered with the lights. Now, as she pushed open the heavy, paneled door, she swiped the switch on the wall. Only when nothing happened did she remember she was supposed to flip the breakers. Which were all the way down in the basement.
Might as well unpack while she was up here on the second floor. Then she could go get the juice back on to the house.
A tug on each panel of brocade drapes brought in a flood of afternoon sunlight. Very warm afternoon sunlight. After shimmying all four turret windows up for air, she put her hands on her hips and assessed her
* * * *
When Jade made it back to the house, she was greeted with a cellophane-wrapped plate of snickerdoodles and a business card stuck between the sun porch door and the jamb. Tucking a Perfect Pita take-out bag under one arm, she plucked the card free. It was for Herald and Son Lawn Service. The handwritten message on the back said, I meant to give you this when you stopped by earlier. This service does a wonderful job, and they are affordable. All my best, Betty M.
“Okay, okay, I can take a hint.”
An hour into their visit, Grandma Nina had announced she needed a nap and told Jade to get some lunch and move her stuff into the house. Like the dutiful granddaughter she was, she obeyed to the letter. Once she’d dragged all her bags up to the master bedroom, which her grandmother had insisted she take, she headed for the shed out back to look for a lawn mower.
It would suck mowing a lawn in the hazy Vermont humidity, but after a three-hour drive, fast food, and the best snickerdoodles known to man, a workout was in order. Besides, it was weird being in the house alone. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been inside without her sister or her grandmother or Grandpa Earl. Mowing the lawn would give her time to work up the courage to stay in the big, old house all by her lonesome tonight.
The backyard used to be beautiful with its three acres of lawn sloping to the bank of a lily-pad covered pond. A screened-in gazebo near the bank made the perfect summer-night refuge for two little girls with sleeping bags and flashlights. Tall pines, maples, and birches blended with neighboring properties to create a magical woodland ripe for exploration. It had been a kid’s paradise.
Now the grass was patchy and knee-high. Weeds hid the lattice-skirt of the gazebo. Even the quaint red shed behind the house sported streaks of rust. Grandma Nina would flip if she knew how bad it looked. Good thing she would never know. Jade would get it ship-shape in no time.
The smallest of her grandmother’s keys opened the padlock on the tool shed. Jade let her eyes adjust to the dark then scanned the interior for a lawn mower. There. Huddled among the hanging, rusty yard tools was one of those push mowers with twisty blades. Those were rusty too.
“Well, damn it.” With the grass high enough to lose a toddler in, a rust-locked push-mower wasn’t going to cut it. Seeing as she didn’t owe Grandma Nina rent until she landed a job, she figured she could cover lawn care until she could afford to splurge on a mower from Sears.
Shutting out the heat with the kitchen’s sliding glass door, she dialed Herald and Son Lawn Service and listened to the voicemail kick in. The isolation of small-town life must have already started to sink in, because the friendly and masculine invitation to leave a message had her thinking about lazy hours around beer-stained pool tables. Shaking off the wistful longing, she left her message then went up to the turret bedroom to unpack.
When she’d come upstairs earlier, she’d only stopped long enough to drop her bags inside the master bedroom. It had been dark inside with the drapes drawn, but she hadn’t bothered with the lights. Now, as she pushed open the heavy, paneled door, she swiped the switch on the wall. Only when nothing happened did she remember she was supposed to flip the breakers. Which were all the way down in the basement.
Might as well unpack while she was up here on the second floor. Then she could go get the juice back on to the house.
A tug on each panel of brocade drapes brought in a flood of afternoon sunlight. Very warm afternoon sunlight. After shimmying all four turret windows up for air, she put her hands on her hips and assessed her
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