Page 9 of Threat of Danger
Zelda’s face lit up. “Three weeks is a start. And then you’ll come back again.”
“Three weeks at thevery most.” Jess wasn’t ready to commit.
“You can’t come and then leave immediately.” Zelda looped her arms around Jess’s. “You’ve been gone too long, child. You have to let my poor heart have its fill.”
Jess nodded. She knew when she was sunk.
They walked through the front door together. The inside of the house had changed little. The yellow living room was the same, down to the old flowery curtains. All the old clutter remained.
Her father, Burt Taylor, rescued and repaired antique furniture between sugaring seasons. More, he hung on to all of it, as if the pieces were adopted rescue kittens. But the overall look wasn’t cute. The ancient pieces made the house look like it was drowning in the past.
Back in the day, Jess had barely noticed the congestion. Now she thought,Fire hazard.In an emergency, her mother and Zelda couldn’t even get out of this place.
She dropped her duffel by the couch and took stock, a good excuse to disguise that she wasn’t ready to go farther in. She knew most of the pieces—the sideboards, the sofa tables, the blanket chest—while others were new, like the rolltop secretaire. Many more antiques than the room needed.
Keeping an eye on sugaring wasn’t the only thing she’d have to do during her stay. “If you don’t mind,” she told Zelda, “I’m going to try and make the house livable for Mom while I’m here. She’ll have to use a walker for weeks if not months to come.”
“That’d be good.” Zelda headed to the kitchen, looking over her shoulder in invitation. “I just made myself a cup of tea. Water’s still hot.”
“Thanks.” Jess followed, scanning the space as she went.
Here too nearly everything remained the same, save for the updated appliances. Right now, in this moment, she felt as if no time had passed at all, as if she’d only been gone a week. As if she’d just dreamed LA.
She made herself a cup of Earl Grey, then sat at the table with Zelda, not because she wanted tea, but because she needed a moment to settle into the idea that she was back at the farm.
She sipped. “How are you?”
Zelda gave a resigned sigh. “Not gettin’ any younger, that’s for sure. Knees givin’ me trouble. Blood pressure’s havin’ a fit. Borderline diabetic, doc says.” She grumbled at her cup. “Can’t even have sugar in my tea anymore.” She sighed. But then the smile popped right back on her face. Her good humor never stayed away long. “Other than that, I can’t complain.”
“How’s sugaring?”
“Chuck says we’re havin’ a good season. Already sold to the last gallon. All goes to Vermont Sugar Works.”
They discussed the maple trees and the business as they drank their tea. The price of syrup was going up, to the great relief of everyone in the industry. Folks around town tracked the exchanges as closely as OPEC tracked crude oil.
They talked about that until both cups sat empty.
Jess stifled a yawn.
“You wanna go to bed early and get some rest?” Zelda asked. “You look exhausted. Or would you like to eat somethin’ first? What can I get you?”
Jess glanced at the clock on the microwave—a little after eight o’clock. By the time she showered and settled in, it’d be close to nine. Shewastired. But no way could she fall asleep as early as that. She was a night owl, always had been.
“Let me look around down here first.” She washed both her mug and Zelda’s, turned them upside down in the dish drain, then walked back into the living room. “It’s even more crowded than I remember. I don’t think Mom will be able to move around with a walker.”
Zelda came up next to her. “Rose won’t be able to go up the stairs either. I can barely do it when my arthritis acts up.”
Jess glanced toward a closed door next to the TV. Her heart twisted. “We could turn Dad’s old office into a bedroom for you down here.”
Zelda waved that off with an expression ofDon’t you start fussing over me. But then she turned thoughtful, glancing at the door and back at Jess again. “We should do that for Rose. When she heals and doesn’t need to be down here anymore, maybe I could take over.”
“We could set up the dining room for Mom. Anybody ever eat there?”
“We eat like we always ate. In the kitchen. Workers eat in the barn. We have that catered now. Angie from the diner delivers the food.”
Jess absorbed the information that her mother didn’t really need help with cooking, but didn’t get worked up over the small white lie. Her mother wanted her to stay, and Jess took the maneuver in that spirit.
She’d have other work to do: a living room to declutter and two rooms to repurpose. She didn’t mind some heavy lifting. If she were to stay, she wanted to stay busy. While she was here, she didn’t want more time to think than she could handle. She wanted something to do, preferably every minute of every day, so she could fall exhausted into dreamless sleep every night. That way, maybe she could survive the visit.
