Be Sweet (16 page)

“It will work out. It always does,” Janni says. She slugs over to the coffeepot and pours him a cup.

He eyes Janni a moment. “You doin' okay, honey?”

“I'm fine.” Her body language says otherwise. She sits in a chair at the table and takes a drink from her coffee cup. That could be the problem right there.

Daniel turns to me. “How are you today, Char?”

“Can't complain.” If I did complain, it would be about the coffee, but in one of my rare moments of restraint, I keep my mouth shut.

“Since you get a reprieve from the sap, you ought to take time for a fun girls' day,” he says to Janni, surprising me.

“Hey, that's a great idea,” I say, turning to Janni. “You up for it?”

“What's there to do around here?”

“Oh, I don't know. I thought because you live in a historic town with quaint shops and cozy cafés that are mere miles from beautiful scenes of Lake Michigan that we might be able to come up with something.”

“It's too cold to enjoy the lake.”

“Oh come on, Janni. There's plenty to do around here. We could even go for a massage, if you want.”

“The boys are home. I don't want to leave them.”

“You don't need to worry about us,” Blake says as he shuffles into the kitchen, bed-head and all. “We can find plenty to do.” He flashes an ornery grin and wiggles his eyebrows.

My thoughts flit to Stephanie, and I'm wondering if she stayed warm enough last night.

“I know, but I want to spend time with you while you're here.”

“We thought we might go bowling later,” Ethan says, sauntering into the kitchen with Candy right behind him. He grabs a box of cereal. “You can go with us.”

Janni doesn't look interested. “I'm not in the mood to bowl.”

“Well, you can think about it,” Ethan says, sitting down at the table with his cereal in tow.

“Okay,” she says, as in, “whatever.”

“We'll take care of the animals this morning, Mom,” Ethan says. “Candy wants to see how we feed them.”

Blake gives me a glance and a nod as if to say they know about Stephanie being in the barn.

“Thanks,” Janni says.

We talk to the kids while they eat their cereal, then Janni fills her cup with another round of coffee and suggests we go into the living room. I'm wishing I had some of Ariel's cinnamon rolls here. Maybe I'll call her later and order some goodies to get me through this visit. Needing caffeine, I grab my cup of motor oil—er, uh, coffee—and follow Janni into the living room.

“You know, we had better call Stephanie and let her know she doesn't need to come to work today.” Janni settles into the sofa that kid-naps people. Still, when I glance at her disappearing thighs, I'm thinking the sofa could become my friend.

My brain scrambles for a response. “Uh, yeah.” Am I not great with words?

Janni reaches for the phone.

“You know, maybe we should have Blake call her so you can enjoy your coffee while it's still hot.”

She smiles. “He does seem drawn to her, doesn't he?”

“Blake,” I yell before she can change her mind.

He pokes his head into the living room. “What's up?”

“Your mom thought someone should call Stephanie and let her know not to come to work today since we're not sugaring.” Blake throws me a knowing glance.

“Oh, okay, I'll get ahold of her,” he says.

“Can you believe we're edging fifty, Char? We'll be senior citizens in the blink of an eye.” Janni stares glumly into her coffee cup.

I laugh. “What in the world brought that on?”

She looks up at me. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe going through the old pictures of Mom and Dad and seeing how fast the time has gone. Only yesterday, Mom was fifty.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Now you're starting to sound like Dad.” Her depression is sucking me in like a vacuum, but I'm resisting every step of the way.

“See what I mean? We're old.”

“Speak for yourself. I'm middle-aged, thank you very much.”

“Only if you plan to live until you're ninety-four.”

I blink. “Huh?”

“Forty-seven times two equals ninety-four. That would make forty-seven middle age for you. Frankly, I doubt if you'll live that long with the way you eat cookies.”

Reality hits me between the eyeballs. “I'm
past
middle age?” The words strangle me. A moment of desperation zips through me, but I roll up my sleeves and bulldoze it away. “I am not past middle age,” I hiss.

“You're in denial.”

Right now I'm ready to hurt her. “Before you go any further, I feel it's only safe to warn you that your Christmas present is on the line.”

“Fair enough. But it's still true.”

“Janni, what has gotten into you? Up until now, you've been one of the most upbeat people I have ever known. Is this your dark side?”

“Yes, I guess that's what you could call it.” She swirls her spoon around her coffee.

“Well, snap out of it,” I say with no compassion whatsoever. “Reminds me of Mom. You need some fun in your life.”

“That's just it. As I told you, I'm tired of all this.” Her hand sweeps the air.

“Is there something else you'd rather be doing with your life?” I take a sip from my mug and try to pretend it's a macchiato. It's not working for me.

“I don't know.” More peering into her coffee. Maybe she's noticing that car oil thing. “Bungee jumping?”

That little comment almost makes me spurt coffee from my nose.

She glares. “What? You don't think I'm adventurous enough?”

“I'm thinking a wild night of scrapbooking is more your cup of tea.” Maybe I should buy her a Hula Hoop. Excitement and exercise all in one package, saying nothing of the safety factor compared to bungee jumping. “It's hard for me to understand this, Janni. You have a perfect life. A Walton kind of life, you know? A family that loves you, lots of friends, security, all that.”

“That's easy for you to say. Miss I-own-a-cottage-on-the-beach-and-a-BMW-with-plump-leather-seats.”

Somebody
is bitter.

“Material things, Janni. They can't love you when you're lonely or help you when you're sick. But you—you have family.” Even as the words come out of my mouth, they startle me. The reality of the comment sinks in. That's me. I'm alone. Emotions lurk behind my eyeballs, and I'm thinking Janni's mood is affecting me big-time.

“It's not enough anymore,” she says in a whisper.

“Where are you in that whole perimenopause thing?” I ask.

Her head darts up. “I have no idea what you're talking about. I've got a long ways to go before I get into all that.”

“You are forty-five, Janni. Some women start as early as forty.”

“Well, I don't.” Her bark has a Doberman Pinscher quality to it.

“It's not a bad thing. It's a fact of life. Happens to all of us. Though I have to say, it's never bothered me much.”

“I'm too young.”

“Okay, whatever. One of the side effects is depression.”

“Who's depressed?”

“And attitude. Definitely attitude.”

“Who has an attitude?” she snaps.

“Come on, Janni, if I extended my hand to you, you'd bite it off.”

“I would not. Well, not the whole hand anyway.” She cracks a weak smile.

“Have you had any hot flashes?”

“What's that?”

“They say your body can shoot into flames out of nowhere. A total meltdown threatens you and anything within a fifty-mile radius.”

She stares at me, mouth gaping. “And you've experienced this?”

I shake my head. “I've just heard stories. The good news is, if you're lost in the woods, you can rub your hands together real fast and start a fire.” I laugh. She doesn't. But I'm on a roll, so I continue. “I have one friend who says her age spots are really singed skin brought on by hot flashes.”

“Why would I be in perimenopause if you're not? You're older than I am.”

I shrug. “Just lucky, I guess. Some people experience symptoms, some don't.” I try not to appear smug, but I have to say I'm quite pleased with this little twist of fate. From what I hear, attitude is a big thing with perimenopause, so maybe Janni will be stripped of sainthood and start acting like me.

Just then my cell phone rings. It's probably just as well that we end this conversation. Give her time to think about our discussion.

“Hello?”

Janni gets up and walks over to the window and peers out. “Stephanie's coming out of the barn. Wonder what she was doing in there?”

Adrenaline shoots through me as Janni walks over to put her shoes on.

“Is this Charlene Haverford, Realtor at McDonald Realtors?” the man on the phone asks.

“Yes, it is.”

“I'm Jeremiah Bell, and I am moving into your town. Lydia Harrington recommended that I contact you about a commercial property we're interested in just outside of town.”

Janni's tying the last knot in her shoe, and I'm worried she'll catch Stephanie with blankets.

“Yes, well, I'm out of town, and will be for several weeks. If you need immediate assistance, you could contact Peter McDonald, or I would be happy to help you when I return in a few weeks.” I give him the number.

“Well, we are in a bit of a hurry. Thanks for the number. It's a shame you can't help us. You came highly recommended.”

He then rambles off my attributes, which I'm tempted to linger on, but right now I don't have the time. Stephanie and Janni are about to collide. Janni's just not in the mood for this.

“Thank you so much for considering me, but I assure you that Peter can handle your real estate needs. As I said, he is the owner, and he has an eye for a good purchase.”

“That's good to know. I'll give him a call. Thank you for giving me your time.”

We hang up. Most likely, I've just lost the chance to make a lot of money, but there's more at stake here. Janni is mere inches from the door.

Stephanie will have some explaining to do.

thirteen

Just as I flip my cell phone closed and head
toward Janni, someone knocks hard on the upstairs bathroom door. My gaze darts from the front door where Janni's headed to the pounding upstairs.

“Who's up there?” I ask, hoping to divert Janni's attention from Stephanie.

She whips around. “I don't know. It must be Mom.”

We both run up the stairs.

“What's wrong, Mom?” I ask.

“Well, what do you think is wrong?” she snaps. “I'm locked in the bathroom, and I don't have a book.”

My mind just refuses to dwell on that.

“Okay, we'll get you out in a jiff,” Janni says, scrambling toward her bedroom and motioning for me to follow. She closes the door behind us once we're in her room. “Last night Daniel installed a new doorknob on the bathroom door,” she whispers. “I need to call him to see what to do.”

“You think he'll know what to do? After all, he put it on in the first place and it's not opening,” I point out.

She gives me a dirty look and picks up the phone. “He'll know. Probably something simple.”

Mom pounds again on the bathroom door, and I open Janni's bed-room door to shout down the hall. “We're working on it, Mom. Just a second.”

“At my age, I don't have a second,” she yells back.

Mom's never been big on patience. If memory serves me—and it does—she always had a migraine on the Sundays when Dad would cover that fruit of the Spirit. Now that I think about it, that explains a lot.

With a swivel, I turn to face Janni. “She's not happy.”

Janni sighs. “I know. I'm on hold. They went to get Danny.”

More pounding. Janni and I roll our eyes and giggle.

“Might as well enjoy it now. Once she gets out, we're in for it.”

Janni nods. “Hi, Danny. Listen, you know that doorknob you re-placed on the bathroom door last night? Well, it's not working. Mom's trapped inside the bathroom.” Janni frowns. “Daniel, it's not funny.” Pause. “She has no book.” Now her face reflects that Daniel gets the seriousness of the situation. “Uh-huh?” Janni listens, nods, and finally says good-bye.

“I guess there's some kind of tool that I need in a drawer down-stairs.” She sighs. “You can either go with me or stay and talk to Mom.”

“Well, that's a no-brainer. I'll go with you.” It's not that I'm scared of my mom or anything, but well, I could use the exercise of going up and down the stairs.

Janni throws a smile that says she totally understands, and we sneak past the bathroom in hopes that Mom won't hear us. A floorboard creaks beneath my feet.

“I'm growing mold in here! Somebody get me out.” More pounding. Mom's petite fists pack a mean wallop. I wouldn't be surprised to see her bony self come poking through the splintered door.

“Be right back, Mom. We're getting some tools.”

“Oh, for heaven's sake,” she says before collapsing into silence.

I clap my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing and hurry down the stairs.

“You know, we need to find a way to get her in for some help,” Janni whispers. “Since she cancelled the last appointment, we'll have to think of something creative. She just can't stay here. Dad is worried sick about her. His constant calling and her paranoia are making me crazy.”

“I know. We'll have to put our heads together to come up with something. Two brains are better than one—especially in our case.”

“Ha-ha.”

When we reach the cabinet, Janni opens two drawers. “You look through this one, and I'll look in here,” she says, already burrowing into the metal debris.

“What are we looking for?” My fingers shuffle through the tools, but I have no clue what I'm doing.