Be Sweet (7 page)

“Did you guys round up any more help for the syrup?”

“Nothing definite yet. But I think we'll be okay. We have Daniel—”

“In the evenings, after work,” I interject.

“Well, we have the boys—”

“Who won't be here until spring break and then only for a week.”

Janni frowns, hesitates, and then brightens. “There's always you and me—”

“And we'll be working in the kitchen to take food out to the workers.”

“What are you, the voice of doom and gloom?”

“I try.”

“So I've noticed.”

“Oh, and we have a kid from Tappery's General Store who wants to earn some extra money. Said he might be able to help us—”

“Also over spring break.”

“And don't forget Mom and Dad,” Daniel says. “When they're up to it.”

“Okay, let me see if I have this straight. We've got a part-time man, two part-time teenagers, one possibility, two retirees, and two kitchen helpers with no full-time crew to feed?”

Janni rubs her jaw and makes a face. “I see your point.”

“Well, the good news is most of the workers you have lined up know the business, so we'll get the job done.” My voice is upbeat and encouraging, but I have to wonder how we're going to pull this off. It's a skeleton crew for sure. Speaking of skeletons, I wonder if there are any lurking between those sofa cushions.

“We can handle it. Fifteen acres, about three hundred fifty taps, we'll get by.” Daniel smiles, he and Janni completely lapless as they sink further into the sofa. It could be one of those Narnia things. Instead of a wardrobe, they have the sofa where you sit down and slip into another world. If he disappears, I'm so not doing double duty on the maple trees.

“Okay, let's think this through. We need someone to drive the truck while others empty the bags of syrup into the pan on the back of the truck bed.”

“Yeah, then the real work begins down at the Sugar Shack.” Janni shakes her head. “Now I'm beginning to wonder how we'll get it done.”

“We really need to work in shifts when things start buzzing. Once that syrup is ready, it's ready,” Daniel says, heaving himself partially up, thereby bringing his thighs back into the light of day. He brushes some dirt from his boots and leaves debris on the floor. No wonder they have carpet issues.

“We'll figure out something.” No need to tell her I have major doubts. “You know what Mom always says, ‘Things could be worse.'”

“Mom could write her own book of quotes.”

Just then a rap sounds on the door, and Janni gets up. We enjoy a chuckle until Janni opens the door and Mom's standing there as big as you please, suitcase in hand.

Mom takes one look at Janni and says, “Well? You gonna let me in?”

Janni slowly steps out of Mom's way. “You didn't need to bring your suitcase over just to have dessert, Mom.” We're both practically holding our breath here.

“I need a room,” she says, matter-of-factly, closing the door behind her. She turns back to Janni. “I'm not living with that man another minute.”

five

“ Which room do you want me in?” Mom asks, already
moving toward the stairway. Janni and I lock eyes. Mom doesn't notice.

“Whoa, come and sit down. What's this all about?” Janni helps Mom move over to a nearby chair and get situated before she can unpack her clothes and fill out change-of-address cards.

She looks up at us with eyes as wide and round as pancakes. “I've tried to keep it from you girls, but the truth is, your Dad is—”

We scoot forward to the edge of our seats.

“He's—” She grabs a maple cookie from the plate on the coffee table.

“Yes?” I say, impatient for her to spit it out.

“Well, he's tryin' to kill me.” She falls back into her seat with a thump and bites into her cookie.

The silence that follows is deafening. I'm feeling quite proud of myself that I haven't rolled onto the floor in a fit of laughter. “You're kid-ding, right?”

“One kidder in the family is enough,” Mom snaps, then goes after her treat with a vengeance.

“Mom, you know Dad would never hurt you. What happened?” Janni asks.

“Lots of things, but the last straw was after our nap today. He said he was going to make us some coffee. I came into the kitchen, surprising him, and found rat poison on the counter not far from where he was making the coffee.” Her eyes are wide. “If that's not proof enough, I don't know what is.”

“Well, maybe he was trying to catch a rat.”

“Janni, you shouldn't call Mom a rat.”

Janni gasps, and Mom looks as though she has murder on
her
mind.

“I'm kidding.”

“Char, this is serious.” Janni turns to Mom. “Well?”

“The only rat in that house is your father. Now, I don't want to talk about it anymore,” she quips, nose upturned, lips pursed. “I'm going to bed.” She springs to her feet. “Where is it?”

“Well, since the boys are coming home for spring break, I'd better put you in the study. We have a daybed in there.”

Mom finishes her cookie and grabs another one. I get my cookie fetish honestly. “I'll go there now. I'm tired.”

“I'll come help you get the bed ready.” Janni turns to me and rolls her eyes before climbing the stairs with Mom.

Now, back in Maine they call me a workaholic because I'm at the office every day but Sunday, working long hours. But I have to say here that I'm more worn-out from watching my family for the last twenty-four hours than I have been working in the office for the past six years.

Janni comes down the stairs, shaking her head.

“What's that all about?” I ask.

“Who knows?” She chews nervously on her upper lip. “How am I going to work on that scrapbook with her hovering over me?”

“You might have to work in the barn,” I joke. Then I can eat my cookies in peace.

Janni brightens. “That's a great idea. We've got an old portable table we can stick out there,” she says excitedly. “Then if Mom walks in on us, we can throw hay over it. You're a genius.”

“Wait. Remember, you're on your own with this scrapbook thing. I'll have my hands full gathering table decorations and planning the food.”

“I still don't understand why you have to make this such an expensive production. We have nothing to prove.”

“I told you, I want it to be very special for Mom and Dad. It has nothing to do with proving anything.” What does it hurt to lavish some of my wealth on my family and the town?

“Janni, I'm going to call it a night,” Daniel says, when he enters from the back door.

“What have you been doing?”

“Checking on that broken hinge in the chicken coop. I'll get the hard-ware at the store tomorrow and fix that for you.” He climbs two stairs.

“Danny, um, there's something you should know,” Janni says.

He turns and looks at her.

“Mom's moved in.”

“I 've missed you, Char,” Dad says, giving me a
big hug, then a kiss on the cheek.

“I've missed you, too, Dad. Thanks for meeting us for breakfast.” Janni and I scoot into our seats in the booth, causing the vinyl to squeak in protest—and this
before
breakfast.

Dad's slight frame—though he's taller, his build is not much bigger than Mom's, really—slips into place across from us. His lips curve in a smile, but his face looks gaunt and wrinkly, reminding me of a dried apple.

I stretch out my hand and touch his arm. “You okay, Dad?”

“I'm fine, Zip,” he says, his gold tooth flashing front and center, compliments of a kick from our long-ago pet mule, Francis. Like the roots of a tree, Dad is the foundation for our family. The patriarch. This whole thing with him and Mom is a bit disconcerting, to say the least.

Just then the waitress steps up to our table, and we order our drinks. Janni and Dad get coffee. It amazes me that people can drink that cheap stuff. I opt for orange juice.

Dad looks at Janni and then me. “It's hard to believe you girls are all grown up.” He shakes his head. “Seems only yesterday I hauled you down to the general store for penny candy.”

“Boston Baked Beans, Lemon Drops, candy necklaces—”

“Wax lips, candy cigarettes.”

Janni gasps. “We weren't supposed to get those.”

“They were my favorite. Sorry, Dad.”

“Those were the days,” he says as though he didn't hear a word we said.

I decide to play along. “Remember how you used to throw us into the hay piles?”

Dad's mouth splits into a wide grin. “I sure do. Your mom would have a fit because she was always afraid there might be something in the hay to hurt you.”

“What's going on with Mom?” Janni asks, slipping out of her coat.

Dad shakes his head. “I don't know, girls. She's acting so strange. I'll look up from reading the paper, and she'll be staring at me. When I go into another room, I feel her presence behind me. She peeks at me through cracks in the door, and has even followed me to town.”

“What do you think it is, Dad?”

He shakes his head. “I have no idea.” No one speaks of the fearful possibilities.

“How long ago did it start?” Janni asks.

“I started noticing a couple of weeks ago,” he says.

The waitress brings a pot of coffee and places it on the table. Janni picks it up and starts filling her and Dad's cups. I take a deep whiff. Even the cheap stuff
smells
good.

“Why would she think you're trying to kill her?” I ask.

Dad's head jerks up. “She thinks that?”

“She mentioned something about rat poison,” Janni says, as though she hates to bring it up.

It does seem a little odd that he would have rat poison next to the coffeepot, but our family is a little strange, after all.

“I woke up from our nap before she did, so I thought I would surprise her with some coffee. I was trying a little multitasking. You know, take care of our recent mouse situation while fixing her some coffee. She took one look at the coffee, the rat poison, and drew the wrong conclusion. Is that what you're saying?” Dad wraps his hands around the coffee cup and gazes into it. “She has to know I would never hurt her.” He looks up. “Maybe she's just worn-out from our move and all.”

As we settle in to breakfast, we try to encourage Dad and then talk about the good old days. When it's time to leave, I pick up the tab, and we make our way out to our cars.

“She'll come around. Don't you worry. We'll get to the bottom of this,” I say. Janni nods in agreement. “And Dad?”

He turns to look at me.

“Get rid of the rat poison. I don't want you accidentally putting it in your coffee.”

“This car is awesome, Char,” Janni says, fiddling
with the seat controls when we get in my car. “I can't imagine riding in style like this on a regular basis.”

“You get used to it.” With a flip of the handle, I click the turn signal in place, and we hang a left. “What do you think about Dad and the rat poison?”

“Well, of course I don't think he's trying to kill Mom, but lately, he seems preoccupied, so I could see him putting the poison in her coffee without meaning to, and that scares me.”

“Sounds as though they both have issues that we'll have to iron out between now and their anniversary.” I sigh. “The stress of the party is enough without adding this.”

“No kidding.”

“Hey, I'm excited about your new coffee shop,” I say, pointing to the new building as we drive by.

“Yeah, I guess. As you know, I enjoy my own coffee.”

“I'll have to convert you,” I say with a laugh.

“Oh no, you don't. We can't afford it.”

“Yes, you can, and you know it. You and Daniel carry that frugal thing too far. Sometimes it does a woman good just to get out of the house once in a while. Especially with all the extra company you have these days.”

Janni sighs. “It does sound nice.”

“You sure you're all right?”

“Just tired of being pulled in so many directions.” She flips down the visor, checks her makeup, then flips it back up. “I know it sounds selfish, but I'm ready to do something for me.”

“We all need periods of refreshment. No one can fault you for that.”

We drive a little further, and I spot a house for sale. “That looks nice and roomy,” I say with a nod toward the house.

“You still spend Sunday afternoons going through open houses?” Janni asks with a chuckle.

“I admit it. I love to walk through homes, get ideas for layouts, all that. Since I've gotten more into the commercial side of things, I don't get to go through homes as much. I keep busy studying the markets, working with commercial buyers and sellers, all that.”

“Ever the workaholic,” Janni says as we pull up to a stoplight.

“I'm not a workaholic. I simply love what I do, so it doesn't bother me to work overtime.”

She shrugs. “Just think you would have more of a social life if you worked less.”

“Moving commercial real estate takes hard work and time. It's different than selling residential properties.” I'm hoping she'll ask me more about it, but she doesn't. Spotting our high school, it seems a good time to change the subject. “Wow, the old school sure needs a face-lift.”

“Yeah, they're starting renovations in the fall.”

“That's great,” I say, though I have to admit the chipped brick and gaudy graffiti fits my memories of high school. Flashes of homecoming, basketball games, Eddie, Linda . . . “So how are The Evil Friends?”

Janni turns to me. “You still call them that?”

“Doesn't it still apply?”

“Don't know. I don't run in their circles. Actually, I feel sorry for Linda.”