A Sticky Situation (5 page)

The woodstove was still smoldering away, keeping the place warm and the evaporator was chugging along doing its job of turning forty gallons of sap into a single gallon of syrup. There is a lot of excess water in the sap that needs to be boiled off. Educating the public about just what goes into making their syrup is one of the best parts of the job. Which is one of the reasons I love the maple festival so much. People come from all over the
country and oftentimes the world to see for themselves how syrup is made and to participate in some winter fun.

The Greene family has been helping to organize and facilitate the festival for as long as it has been happening. Every year it gets a little bigger and in my opinion, a little better. Just the street food vendors alone are enough to make the drive worth it. There are maple-glazed doughnuts, maple bacon wrapped hot dogs, maple popcorn balls. Some vendors sell maple soda, others make crepes they drizzle with the sweet stuff.

Even though the festival is full of fun and worth every minute invested in its preparation, it does come at the busiest time of the year for the sugaring business. I wished every year there was a way to spread things out a bit more but there wasn't. The festival had to occur when things were in high gear in order to let the visitors see the inner workings of the maple industry.

One of the things we do through Greener Pastures is to educate people on the importance of land stewardship and the environmental impact of their daily decisions. People start to think more seriously about their choices when they understand that global warming may mean the end of the maple syrup industry. What we take for granted as a yearly occurrence may indeed end up obsolete.

I was adding a note to drop a dead man's spoons off at the police station to my yard-long to-do list when my cell phone rang with the tone I had assigned to Graham's number.

“I didn't see you at the Stack. Does that mean you got out of lunch with Hazel?”

“If only. She insisted we go to the coffee shop at Loon Lodge.” Things were worse than I could have imagined. Loon Lodge was on the far side of Sugar Grove and it had a reputation as the place to go to rent a room on the cheap and on the sly.

“I am so sorry. Did you manage to stay put in the restaurant?” I hated to consider that my octogenarian aunt might have rounded more bases with Graham than I had managed to do myself. We had been seeing each other for a couple of months but they've been busy ones and I'm not a fast mover in the romance department even when my calendar is empty.

“It took some doing but I kept the both of us parked at a table in the center of the restaurant.”

“How did you manage to avoid a dark booth in the back?”

“I shook my head at the waitress and flashed my badge. There was no way I was climbing into a booth with her. After the way she behaved in the truck on the way over I'd rather be mauled by a bear.”

“She's got a bite like a pit bull. Once she sinks her teeth into someone almost nothing makes her let go.”

“The only way I managed to steer her away from some deeply disturbing suggestions was to encourage her to talk about her granddaughter Jade.”

“Good thinking. Jade is her Achilles' heel. How did you think to do that?”

“Fortunately, I read up on hostage negotiations in my spare time.”

“How did you manage to escape?”

“I texted one of the other guys in the department and had him call me with an imaginary report of snowmobilers chasing a bull moose.”

“Smart, but I bet she asked if she could ride along.”

“She did. The only way I got out of it was to tell her she would have to surrender her flask while on duty.”

“You really are a miracle worker.”

“I just got lucky. I think it would be best if I didn't drop by until after Hazel finishes her visit.” I felt my heart sink. I enjoyed it when Graham just popped in unexpectedly. The whole family seemed to love him. Which I guess was the problem. Some loved him too much.

“You're probably right. It may be awhile though. Hazel's visits tend to drag on.”

“We'll just have to sneak around. It might be kind of fun.”

“I've been thinking a lot lately about getting my own place. Maybe this is just the push I needed.” As nice as living at home could be between the great food, even better company, and easy commute, there was the grandparents' overnight-guest policy to consider. They loved entertaining but if Graham stayed over he slept in the guest room. And there were questions about where I was going to be sleeping if I stayed out overnight.

“That sounds drastic.”

“Drastic might be just what I need.” I meant it, too. For some time I had been thinking it was time to push myself out of the nest. After all, how could I complain that the family treated me like a kid if I never lived like an adult?

We chatted a bit longer then disconnected and I fired up the computer and began scrolling through apartments-for-rent pages. I pulled out a pad of paper and halfheartedly made a note of several and the contact information. I was definitely interested in an apartment but I didn't want to move out of town.

All the places listed were at least fifteen minutes away when the roads were good. Here in New Hampshire that comprised about three months of the year. Between snow, frost heaves, potholes, and construction, which slowed things down for the other nine months, I'd be looking at a half-hour commute if I was lucky. Giving up on the Internet I started racking my brain for people I knew in town who might have a place to rent but no one came immediately to mind.

I hadn't slept as well as usual. It seemed like half the night I dreamt about spoons rattling up against human bones. The other half I was holding the train of Hazel's wedding dress as she staggered down the aisle to meet her groom, Graham. What I needed more than anything was a walk in the sugar bush. Wandering among the trees always brightens my mood. Besides, during sugaring season the trees need checking every day.

I double-knotted my bootlaces, yanked my jacket zipper up to my chin, and pulled my hat down snug over my ears. Grandma knits up windproof hats from bulky wool so tight you can hold water in them. I was grateful for a new one in my Christmas stocking every year. Thus guarded against the elements I plunged out into the cold and stopped at the base of the sugarhouse porch long enough to strap on my snowshoes.

Crunching up along the trail to the woods I enjoyed the fresh air and the call of the blue jays announcing my arrival to all the other birds. Jay is the middle name of our police dispatcher, Myra. I wondered if it had turned her into the gossip she delighted in being.

My favorite birds, the chickadees, flitted here, there, and everywhere not even seeming to notice my appearance. I reached a tree with a plastic tube snaking round it and checked the line for flow. Everything seemed to be right as rain.

The month before the weather had been so cold the temperatures had never come close to above freezing. And that hadn't even taken windchill into account. The sun had been out every day for two weeks but the sap never budged a drop. It was simply too cold for anything to flow at all.

In order to make maple syrup you need cold nights and warm days. Now by warm I don't mean bathing suit weather, just temperatures a bit above freezing so the sap begins to run. Trees know when to wake up and I like to be there with a smile and a bucket when they do.

I had been out deep in the sugar bush for a couple hours checking taps and tubing when a twig snapped behind me. Knowlton was just standing there with his coat unzipped leaning up against a tree. He didn't look at me, which was unusual.

Generally Knowlton has to be beaten off with a stick studded with rusty nails and poisoned frog juice and even then he's hard to shake. But today, he didn't look
like he even knew where he was. As much as I wanted to be the sort of person who could just keep going and leave him standing there all alone I couldn't.

“What's up, Knowlton? You're looking a little lost.” I shocked myself even further by putting my hand on his sleeve. That managed to snap him out of his lethargy just a bit.

“Ma's not doing so good.” So that was the trouble. All the girls in the Greene family interest Knowlton but no one replaces Tansey in his affections. Which may be why he is still available, but it is sort of sweet, too.

“Was she badly hurt in the fall?” It had been quite a distance from the counter stool to the floor and Tansey was not a young woman. The bruising alone had to be slowing her down.

“She's a bit stiff and there's a lump the size of a new potato on the back of her head but that's not the trouble.”

“Well, what is?”

“You know how Ma always seems like she knows what she's doing even if she's got no reason to think so?” Knowlton asked. I nodded. Tansey was the sort who would think she could perform open-heart surgery on herself because she watched a twenty-minute video on the Internet. “She can't even decide what to have for breakfast. Yesterday she told me she was thinking about selling the farm and moving south.”

“Moving south? Tansey overheats by mid-April. She must have hit her head harder than anyone thought. Did they do any scans at the hospital?”

“She wouldn't let them. Said it would cost too much.”

“Why would she be talking about moving?”

“She won't say anything except that she wants me to have a good life. I told her I was staying here no matter what and she burst into tears.”

“Tansey was crying?” This was more than I could imagine. Tansey didn't cry any more than she wore stockings and poufy dresses.

“At the breakfast table, right before she spooned some fried egg yolk into her coffee. I don't know what to do.” Knowlton looked at me and his eyes were filling with tears. That was about enough of that. Work could wait.

“Come on. We're going to see your mother.” I grabbed him by the arm.

“I can't go with you. She'll know I was talking about her and she will get even more upset.”

“Fine. I'll go on without you. I'll tell her I'm stopping by on festival business. She won't know you spoke to me.” Tansey was one of the co-chairs of the festival and it was necessary to speak to her from time to time. If she was unraveling about something it was going to impact the whole project.

“Thanks, Dani. Knowing you're gonna talk to her makes me feel even better than the news about Jade coming home to stay.”

*   *   *

When I got back to the house I found Grandma in the kitchen peeling carrots into an enamelware pot we use for compostables. Her shoulders were pinned up around her ears the way they always were when stress made her gather
in on herself. Hazel has that effect on a lot of people. Hazel was nowhere in sight but the evidence of her was already piling up. Enough shopping bags to fill a covered wagon completely cluttered the kitchen table.

Celadon was reaching a broom under the kitchen table in an effort to sweep up the dozens of glittery foil candy wrappers littering the floor. Despite the mess, the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air. Even though most nights Grandma fixed meals like she was running a logging camp this was a bit early in the day for her to get started. I had to wonder if she knew about Jade's visit even if Jade thought she had kept it a secret.

I sidled over to the pie safe and peeked through the door. Sure enough, a lemon meringue with the mile-high meringue sat on the middle shelf. Lemon meringue—Jade's favorite. On the top shelf there was a triple chocolate ecstasy cake, Celadon's preferred dessert.

I squatted down to check the bottom shelf. It was hard to tell what I was seeing through the screen. I pressed my nose closer and inhaled. That clinched it. Gingerbread. My favorite. Grandma definitely knew about Jade. And being the grandmother she was she didn't want to show favorites with desserts. Sure, she could have made Grampa's favorite, crème caramel with a maple sauce, but she didn't. She was trying to sweeten us all up and make us get along. We were in trouble.

“Grandma, are you expecting even more guests for dinner tonight?” I asked, shooting Celadon a loaded look behind our grandmother's back.

“What gives you that idea, my dear?” she asked. The
fact that she had not answered my question had not escaped my notice. Nor had the fact she kept her back turned toward me as she posed one of her own instead. Grandma doesn't make a habit of lying as far as I have ever noticed but she never seems to feel obligated to tell truths she deems hurtful or none of your business. I wasn't sure which she felt the news of Jade's arrival would be but I was sure it was one of the two.

“You only make more than one dessert on special occasions. You only make this combination of desserts on particularly memorable occasions.” I pointed at the pie safe.

“Are you asking me a question?” This time, Grandma turned and gave me a firm stare. The stare that asked if I was sure I wanted to pursue my line of inquiry. It was the last chance she would give me before the gloves came off. Celadon saw it, too, and must have been in a charitable mood because she stepped up and took one for the team.

“What are you two talking about?” she asked.

“Knowlton says Jade is in town and that she's here to stay,” I said. “She's the one who bought the general store and she's opening up a winery.”

“A winery? If she wanted to run a winery, why not stick with the one her parents own in California?” Celadon made a good point. There were some wineries in New Hampshire but grapes aren't what the state is best known for. Staying where it was warmer should have made the most sense. Except for one thing.

“She's opening a sap wine winery. You know, wine
made from maple sap.” We'd made it at Greener Pastures a few times ourselves on a small scale. It was light flavored and refreshing. As much as I hated to admit it, Jade might be onto something.

“How did you know she was here? And why didn't you tell us?” Celadon was going to be the grandmother staring her family down one day, that much was clear. I could see a flicker of pride chase a flash of annoyance across Grandma's face.

“It would behoove you girls to remember very little goes on in this town that I haven't heard about before most other people. That goes triple for things relating to my own family. Wesley Farnum knows when to keep his lips sealed and when to open them back up again. Jade's project was a small one. The jobs here at the farm just keep cropping up.”

“And you didn't give us any warning?” Celadon's voice took on a plaintive note much like a peevish toddler. If I didn't know better I would have said we were still shorter than the countertop and being denied the chance to lick a batter bowl.

“Would it have made you happier to dread this day for the past few weeks? I think that I've done you both a favor.”

“But where will she stay? We should have had time to prepare a place for her before she just descended on us.” Celadon's voice tends to screech when she gets upset. My ears were starting to burn with the pitch of it.

“You make your cousin sound like a horde of locusts.”

“She does tend to make a lot of noise and leave a path
of devastation in her wake,” I added, not wanting to leave Celadon all alone to take on Grandma. It was foolish of course, but the novel pleasure of siding with my sister was too alluring to resist.

“That's enough out of the pair of you. You haven't grown up a bit, either one of you, when it comes to Jade. She's family and we will treat her as such. As a matter of fact I want you to go into town right now and make her feel welcomed. Let her know I'm making her favorites for dinner.” Grandma turned back to the carrots and left us to sort ourselves out. There was no court of higher appeal. Jade was here to stay and we would just have to lump it.