Be Sweet Page 11

  With the way my heart is racing, I hope I can handle the stairs.

  It ’s hard to imagine Janni and I came from the same womb. Once I stepped into the kitchen, I would have scooped some hot chocolate mix in heated water and called it a day. Better still, I’d have gone to the local coffee shop and ordered a steaming cup. Not Janni. She has milk heating on the stove with a homemade chocolate sauce that could make Ben and Jerry sit up and take notice. Not only that, but also she’s prepared a batch of homemade maple bars. She’s a Martha Stewart wannabe.

  In the front room, the kids clamor through the door. Boots come off. Coats, scarves, and hats are dumped to dry.

  While Janni stirs the chocolate mixture on the stove and I gather some mugs, Blake comes into the kitchen, walks up behind Janni, and gives her a full-fledged hug. “Smells great, Mom.”

  Must be wonderful to be a mom.

  She shivers. “Thanks, but you’re getting snow on me and on my clean floor.”

  He laughs and backs away. “Okay, okay.”

  “It’s about ready, so if you want to gather the others, that would be great.”

  He nods, starts to leave then turns back to Janni. “You know, some-times we think things are going to be worse than they really are,” he says.

  Janni and I stare at him.

  “You having a deep moment, Blake?” I ask.

  “Well, it’s just that I thought this week was going to be a bust, what with Ethan having Candy here and all. I know that’s selfish. But I’m having a great time—with everyone.” He flashes a blinding grin—Russ must have worked on his teeth—and goes back outside.

  “Wonder if a certain young woman is why he’s changed his mind about this week,” Janni says with a wink.

  “Stephanie is cute.” We lift ladles of the velvety drink from the kettle and pour it into mugs.

  “Yeah, she is. I’m glad Daniel brought her here. She’s a hard worker.”

  Just then Stephanie walks into the room. “Can I help with any-thing?” She turns to Blake. “You’d better get those clothes off. You’re dripping all over your mom’s floor.”

  Blake grins. “You women are all alike.”

  It tickles me to no end that she’s so bossy with Blake when she hasn’t known him long. She’ll fit right in with the rest of us—well, me anyway.

  Janni smiles and puts a dollop of marshmallow creme on the last mug. “We were just talking about what a hard worker you are. If you want to help us set the mugs on the table, that would be great.”

  “Sure.” Stephanie walks over to the counter, grabs a couple of filled mugs, and carries them to the table while I grab napkins and plates. She puts the maple bars on a serving plate.

  Once the kids are served, we take a tray of mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of maple bars in to Daniel and Russ in the family room and place the tray on the coffee table.

  The kids’ laughter wafts from the other room, the fire crackles in the hearth, and the hot chocolate and sweet bars soothe while we enjoy each other’s company. Why don’t I do this more often? Though Peter and I have friends over occasionally, I don’t really stop to savor the moments. I fuss about how the house looks, whether the food will get cold before we eat—all things that don’t really matter if we’re having a good time.

  “This is so nice,” Janni says with a sigh as she eases into her chair.

  Daniel stretches his legs onto the ottoman in front of him. “I’m worn-out.” He looks at Janni. “I didn’t tell you, but Ralph Knight, the guy who retired last year? He’s working for me while I stay here to do the sugaring. He wanted a few hours, and I could use the help so I don’t have to go back and forth.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Janni says.

  I take my place beside Russ on the sofa and bite into a maple bar. They’re pretty good. Not bakery-good, but good. “Ariel’s Bakery in Maine that I told you about makes this fabulous double-fudge chocolate chip cookie. I should have some sent here so you can try them.”

  “I prefer homemade cookies, myself,” Janni says with a lift of her chin. “Specifically, oatmeal.”

  “That just goes against the laws of nature.”

  “What?”

  “Throwing something healthy like oatmeal in with a decent batch of sugar. It’s wrong, Janni. Don’t you ever do that.”

  She blinks but refuses to be deterred. “Homemade cookies may take more time than running out and buying goodies, but my family is worth it.”

  Is she rubbing it in my face—that I have no family? “I wasn’t putting down your cookies, Janni, I was merely stating that—”

  “I know what you were stating, Char. Money is too hard to come by in this family to go traipsing off to the coffee shop or bakery at our every whim.”

  “Money is hard to come by? I don’t think so. You said yourself that Daniel could retire if he wanted to.”

  “Hey, we’re going to play a round of Aggravation. Anyone want to join us?” Ethan asks.

  “A game of Sorry might be fun,” Daniel jumps in.

  We all get the subliminal message. There’s already enough tension in this room to choke a horse. Ethan gives us a strange look.

  “You kids go on without us,” Daniel says.

  “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with homemade stuff, Janni. But since I don’t cook or bake, buying from the bakery works for me.” Before she can rant about her Martha Stewart ways, I turn to Russ. “So, Russ, how are your parents getting along?”

  He blinks, obviously feeling caught in a familial war zone. “They’re doing great, really. Dad’s glad to finally slow down a little from the office. I think he might be driving Mom crazy, though.” He chuckles.

  “We know all about that, don’t we, Janni?” Daniel says, attempting to ease the tension.

  “What’s up?” Russ asks.

  “You don’t want to know,” Daniel says with a laugh. “Viney works for you. That should answer your question.”

  Russ’s right eyebrow shoots toward his hairline. “Oh,” he says with a nod.

  It’s obvious we don’t have to say another word.

  “She thinks Dad is trying to kill her,” I say, as my blood pressure calms down a bit.

  “Good thing she’s not here, or you’d be in trouble,” Janni says, slowly getting over her snit.

  “Have you seen our dad?” I ask Russ. “He’s as scrawny as some of Janni’s chickens.”

  “Hey!” Janni says.

  I’m not sure if she’s offended over the chickens or Dad. Most likely anything I say from here on out will rub her wrong.

  “You mean she’s staying here?” Russ asks.

  “You didn’t know?” I take another sip of chocolate.

  He shakes his head.

  “I thought she would have told you by now,” Janni says. “Maybe that’s a good sign. Means she might go back home.”

  “Soon, I hope,” Daniel says, and Janni hits him on the arm.

  “It’s not fit for man nor beast out there.” We hear Mom’s voice call-ing from the front room.

  “Speak of the devil.”

  “Char! She’s still our mother.”

  “Could have gotten switched by mistake at the hospital. I’m holding out for that one,” I mumble.

  Daniel laughs, then stops when Mom enters the room. We exchange pleasantries as Mom settles into her seat on the sofa. I’m just thankful we’re not in the living room. That sofa scares me.

  “You’re keeping my place nice and tidy, Viney. Thanks for doing such a good job,” Russ says.

  Mom brightens as though she’s been handed a bouquet of roses. “You have a nice place. Large condo with a small yard so you don’t have to mess with it.” She turns to me. “You need a place like that, Char.”

  “I have a place, Mom. Aunt Rose’s cottage is perfect for me.”

  “It’s too small. You have the money to get something nicer.”

  “It’s a cottage—not exactly a dump.” Shall we talk about Janni’s carpet?


  “Still, in your line of work you should be entertaining more, getting your name out there.”

  She’s such an expert. At everything. I sigh.

  “I love Char’s house,” Janni defends. “She lives alone, Mom. It’s not as though she needs tons of room.”

  Thank you for pointing that out. In front of Russ, no less.

  We discuss real estate, gas prices, and world economics. Just when I think my brain will explode, my cell phone rings. It’s a client.

  “I’d better take this. Good night everyone.” I smile at Russ.

  As I stand to leave, he catches my hand and gives it a quick squeeze. “’Night, Charley.”

  The brush of his hand causes emotions to tangle inside of me like an unruly vine. I can’t get to my room fast enough.

  Once I’m ready for bed and sink between my sheets, I think over the evening and Mom’s comments about my house. Seems no matter what I do, I can’t please her.

  Funny how after all these years, as a forty-seven-year-old woman, I’m still looking for my mother’s approval. Then there’s Janni with her constant reminder that I need to “let go.” I have let things go, haven’t I, Lord? I’m sure I have. It’s just that coming back here stirs up old memories. A pain so tangible, it haunts every breath I take. I can’t help that. It doesn’t mean I haven’t forgiven Linda and Eddie. It’s just hard to for-get. That’s all it is. I reach for my Bible.

  Forgiving is a process.

  Forgetting is impossible.

  eleven

  After picking up gold ribbon at the store, I stop at the bakery to pick up some more cookies. Just when I open the door, I see the unthinkable. Dad and Gertie sitting at a table together. They don’t see me, so I race back to my car. I suppose I should approach them, but I have no clue what to say. I need time to sort this out. Maybe Mom’s right after all.

  I head back to Janni’s house, step inside, and see Janni sprawled out on the sofa. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Totally zapped of energy,” she says. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth all the work.”

  With the threat of my maple syrup supply dwindling, my senses sharpen. “How can you say that, Janni? Why, maple sugaring is much more than the work. It’s tradition. It’s family. It’s—”

  “Tomorrow’s breakfast,” she says dryly.

  “Well, that too.” I pull off my gloves and jacket and put them in the closet, then turn to her. “Besides, we didn’t even make syrup today. Doesn’t it help when we get a day or two in between?” I make myself comfy on the rocker.

  “I guess.”

  “Maybe you’re staying up too late to work on that scrapbook. All that cutting and pasting. If you ask me, you’re a frustrated second grader.”

  “Oh, that’s cute.” She sits up and plumps her pillow, holding it tightly in front of her belly. She’s got that hair thing going on. It’s not Betty Bouffant, though, I’ll give her that. It puts me more in mind of a used Brillo pad. Funny how I notice those things. Must be a gift. “I’m pleased with what I’m getting done on the scrapbook. Some of those let-ters that people have sent are priceless.”

  “Which reminds me. Do you think Mom and Dad still have the topper from their wedding cake?” The gentle rocking in this rocker makes me think I could do the grandma thing—if I had any grandkids.

  “Yeah, they do. Mom showed it to me one day when we were going through some things at the condo.”

  “I thought it would be nice to use it on the cake for the party.”

  Janni nods with little enthusiasm.

  “Also, I wanted to ask you to choose some people who could share some favorite memories they have of Mom and Dad. You know the folks better than I do.” Flipping open my notebook, I make some notes. When I close it, I realize she hasn’t said anything, and I look up. “Is that all right?”

  “Whatever you want. Since this seems to be your party.”

  It’s just best to leave that alone. “Listen, Janni, I just saw something disturbing.”

  She stiffens. “What is it?”

  I explain about seeing Dad and Gertie at the bakery. “Is that weird?”

  “That is strange. If they were working on a project for church, wouldn’t he tell Mom?”

  “If you were him, would you tell Mom?”

  “Good point. Well, we’d better keep an eye on things.”

  I nod. “Still getting cards in the mail?”

  “Every day. Folks sure love them.”

  I stop a moment and scratch the heel of my right foot, which, by the way, is still recovering from Wiggles’s attack. I glance at the caged squirrel. Satisfied that he’s not going to bother me, I turn back to Janni. “Where is everybody?”

  “The boys took the girls to a movie, I think. Daniel’s over at the store. Mom’s at the library.”

  “Hope she doesn’t spot Dad and Gertie together or it’s hard to tell who will hurt whom.”

  “There has to be an explanation.” Janni yawns and stretches rather unenthusiastically, then slumps back into the sofa. The sofa, by the way. My fingers are mere inches from punching 911 on the cordless.

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Janni?”

  “It’s like my ambition is gone. I don’t care about much of anything.”

  “Are you pregnant?”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “It’s been known to happen to women your age, you know.”

  “It would take a small miracle at this point.”

  Oh, how I would have loved such a miracle a few years ago.

  Janni runs her fingers through her hair, and they get stuck in a curl, so her fingers work through it. She turns to me. “Besides, that kind of excitement never happens around here. I told you before, I have a boring life.”

  “How can you possibly say that? You’re one of the busiest people I know, always taking care of other people, seeing to their needs, watching over your boys, your household.”

  “You see, that’s just it. I’m tired of taking care of everyone else.”

  This is so not Janni.

  “I know that sounds selfish, but it’s true.” She stands up. “I’m sick of this stupid farm, the store, everything.” She throws the pillow onto the sofa, and I’m wondering if I should back out of the room and re-enter.

  “Why did you buy this place last year if you didn’t want to be here?”

  “You couldn’t understand.”

  “What’s to understand? I thought you loved this place and didn’t want the family to lose it.”

  “That’s exactly it. Mom and Dad love this place and didn’t want the family to lose it. For once in my life, I wanted to do the responsible thing.”

  “What do you mean, for once in your life? You’ve always been the responsible one, Janni.” This conversation has definitely taken a turn south, a direction in which I hadn’t planned to travel.

  Just then the front door shoves open. “Anybody home?” Mom calls out.

  “I need to go check on the animals,” Janni says.

  “I’ll do it. You just rest.”

  Janni’ s comments surprise me. She must be going through some midlife crisis, perimenopause or something. Daniel would be well-advised to hibernate for a year or two.

  Mr. Ed whinnies as I step inside the barn. I think he favors me because he gets his food and water quickly when I’m in charge.

  “Well, hello, Mr. Ed.” His ears perk forward, and he edges toward me. I give him some oats and check his water supply. Grabbing the pitchfork I poke at some hay in the bale Janni threw down earlier this morning. He nudges me. I want to think it’s his way of saying thanks, but the truth of the matter is he’s checking my coat pockets for sugar.

  We’re alike, Mr. Ed and I.

  I move forward to check on Elsie and Tipsy when I hear a noise. My heart freezes in my chest. I stop and listen. Nothing but Mr. Ed shifting in his stall and flapping his lips.

  When I’m about to move on, I notice hay drifting from the hayloft. Someone is up there
. My breath sticks in my chest.

  “Who’s there?” I call out. Yeah, right, like anyone’s going to answer.

  Clearing of throat. “Um, Aunt Char?”

  My body teeters. Taking a moment to steady myself, I then look up to see Blake leaning over the hayloft with Stephanie right behind him.

  My eyes grow wide. I know this, because I now see in a panoramic view.

  “Aunt Char, this is not what you think,” he begins.

  Yeah, whatever. “I thought you went to a movie.”

  “We didn’t go.”

  Okay, do I look stupid? “You shouldn’t be out here like this, Blake.” I’m irritated, and my voice shows it.

  They climb down the ladder. “We were talking.”

  “Let me handle this,” Stephanie insists. “I’m going to tell her, Blake.”

  “That’s not necessary, Steph,” he says.

  “Excuse me, let me be the judge of that.”

  “Don’t tell Mom, okay, Aunt Char?”

  “Tell her what?”

  “I’m going to talk to your mom too,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, brushing hay from her shoulders.

  “About what? Blake, we trusted you.” Though he’s not my son, I’ve always loved these boys like they were my own.

  “I didn’t do anything, Aunt Char.” He holds up his hands as though I’m Marshal Dillon, and he’s on the other side of the law.

  “See, Blake. I’m going to tell her,” Miss Take Charge says, causing my blood pressure to rise.

  “Would you please stop talking about it and just tell me?” My toe is tapping here, and it’s not a happy tap.

  “We were talking,” Blake says.

  “That’s the best you can do?”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Why not talk in the house?”

  “We wanted some privacy,” he defends.

  “You could have gone into the living room or the kitchen.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “It’s like this,” Stephanie begins.