Page 17 of Every Star that Shines

Whatever the case, he would make the best of it. And maybe he could finally find a way to put his feelings for Delanie in the past.

But when he followed her, he could still feel the brush of her breath across his face.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Delanie stood impatiently on the wooden porch of Nan’s farmhouse with several nested empty cardboard boxes in her arms, waiting for her mother to unlock the door. The breeze had a bite to it, and she wished she had worn a warmer sweater.

When she followed Cheryl inside to the small entrance leading directly into the living room, the scents and sights plunged her into nostalgic memories. There was the same couch covered with a floral slipcover where she’d often whiled away an afternoon reading. There was the living room gallery wall, covered with framed school photos of Delanie and her sister, her cousins, uncles, and aunts, all surrounding a large photo of Nan and Pops taken on their fiftieth wedding anniversary. Pops had died a year later from a heart attack. Beneath the staleness of the air caused by the house being shut up for a week and a half, Delanie detected hints of lavender from the potpourri Molly kept on the coffee table and the pungent smell of dried roses from a shrivelled, dusty bouquet hanging upside-down near the photos.

She put down the boxes on the living room floor and set her purse—which she’d brought in to hold her phone and keys—on the bench near the door, then took off her calf-high leather boots. The floor was probably cold, but there was no reason to make it dirty and make more work for them later.

“The first thing we should do is go through her food,” Cheryl said, hanging her coat in the closet and bustling toward the kitchen. She had given up her typical slacks and blouse to wear a more appropriate ensemble of jeans and a T-shirt, but still managed to look as elegant as ever. Her blown-out short blond hair and full-face makeup helped. “I took the perishables home with me last week, but she has quite a few things in the root cellar already. And we’ll have to come back and dig up the rest of her carrots and potatoes soon before it freezes.”

“Sounds good.” Delanie touched a photo of her and Nan that had been taken after Delanie’s first opening night in the kids’ play. Delanie had been nine, the same age as Emma now, and still in her mouse costume. They had been doing Cinderella that year. Both faces in the photo were split in wide grins.

Oh, Nan, what advice would you have for me now? Now that she had messed up the only dream she’d ever had.

A row of photo albums on the bottom row of a nearby tall bookshelf caught her eye. Nan’s scrapbooks. Delanie chose one that looked particularly vintage and opened it, cradling it on her arm as she turned the pages with her other hand. Inside were photos of Nan in various roles next to programs with stiff pages that had yellowed with age—relics of her life before she had met Pops and given up acting to move to Peace Crossing. Delanie stared at a black-and-white photo of a young, vivacious Molly Wright in costume for the role of Anna Leonowens in The King and I on a Toronto stage, her voluminous ball gown accentuating her tiny figure.

“What’s that?” said Cheryl.

Delanie looked up to see her mother leaning against the archway leading to the kitchen. “One of Nan’s old scrapbooks from her acting days. Did you know she played Anna Leanowens once?”

“I think she mentioned it, yes.” Cheryl came and peered over Delanie’s shoulder at the photo. “She didn’t talk too much about her early days on the stage. She was always more focused on the present than the past.” She smiled. “Beautiful. You know, you look like her when she was that age.”

“I do, don’t I?” Delanie touched the plastic page protector, tracing the lines of Molly’s face. “Would it be okay if I kept this?”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll ask your uncles and Aunt Lily, but I doubt any of them will want it. Lily never took much interest in Mom’s acting career, and the boys . . . Well, Walter’s the most sentimental, but he’s not the type to keep photo albums around. I’ll probably end up putting most of these in storage in our basement.” Cheryl stooped and pulled several more albums off the shelf, piling them in her arms. She opened the top one. “Looks like this starts after Roger was born. You know, I think I’ll ask him if he wants it after all. But you can keep that one, for sure.”

“Thank you. I haven’t looked through this one since I was little.” Delanie closed the album and set it on the bench next to her purse. She could hardly wait to look through it later.

Cheryl grabbed one of the boxes and set it on the floor near the bookshelf, then put the pile of albums inside, propping them so the spines faced up. She pulled a few more off the shelf, glancing inside the front cover of each as she did, her face pensive.

“On second thought, I probably shouldn’t assume that everyone wouldn’t want these albums. They are our childhood, after all. I’d like to find the one from when I was born.” She looked at Delanie. “Would you mind going through these at home later and helping me decide who should get what? I’d rather not worry about that right now when there is so much other packing to do. We might even need to split the photos up if everyone just wants their own memories.”

“Sure, Mom. Here. I’ll do this. You go start in the kitchen.” Delanie took the stack of albums from her mother’s arms and placed them in the box with the others, then tucked the one she was keeping into the box at one end where it would be easy to find again. As tedious as divvying up family photos sounded, a part of her tingled with excitement to see what she might learn about her family, and her grandmother especially, in those pages.

“Thanks, honey.” Cheryl released a deep sigh, looking around the room with a flash of overwhelm on her face. She dabbed some moisture out of the corner of her eye with her finger before collecting the remaining cardboard boxes and bustling back into the kitchen. “Why don’t you take that box out to your car when you’re done, and check the shed on your way back in,” she called over her shoulder. “We’re going to need a lot more cardboard boxes.”

“Sure,” Delanie said again, glancing around the overstuffed room. She still couldn’t call Nan a hoarder, but her grandmother had certainly made use of every inch of available space. The books alone would require boxes and boxes to pack. “Do you think we should ask everyone if they want any of Nan’s other things?”

“Lily already came and took what she wanted,” Cheryl called from the kitchen. It sounded like she was already opening cupboard doors and pulling things out. “So did I. Beth said she and Roger didn’t need anything except Nan’s salad spinner because hers recently broke, so I put that aside already.”

That explained why there was a salad spinner sitting in her mother’s laundry room. Delanie had wondered.

“But what about the books? Uncle Frank likes to read.”

“He said Mom already let him take his pick years ago. And I brought Savannah over yesterday while you were at rehearsal. She took a few things, most of which are in my basement now.”

Given how small Savannah’s apartment in Edmonton was, that didn’t surprise Delanie. She had barely had time to catch up with her sister after the funeral before Savannah had headed back to the city yesterday, which was unfortunate. Maybe while Delanie was in Alberta, she would drive down to Edmonton to see Savannah again—and hope her sister had some time to spend with her while she was there.

Cheryl appeared at the kitchen door again holding an unopened jar of pickles, which she used to gesture around the living room. “I’m afraid most of this will just need to go in the yard sale. And whatever we can’t sell will be donated to charity. You’re welcome to take anything you like, of course.”

“Thanks. Not sure if there’s much we need either. Our apartment’s pretty small too. But I’ll take a look through the kitchen things.” Delanie put the last of the albums in the box, then stood and looked around at the possessions Nan and Pops had accumulated over a lifetime. They had held so much meaning and value to Nan, and now they had become castoffs to be sold as cheaply as possible. It made Delanie a little sad.

She stooped to put on her boots. “I’ll be back in to help in a few minutes.”

“Thanks, honey,” Cheryl said, turning away. Then she paused and gave Delanie a warm look. “I’m so glad you’re here. Thank you for agreeing to do this.”

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