Someday Home (23 page)

No doubt they'd be eating out on the deck tonight, so she chopped and added the salad tomatoes, put the place settings and condiment basket on a tray, and carried it out. Judith stood up. “Here, I can set up.”

“Thank you.” Angela went back inside. She put the peas on, added the onion and mushrooms to them, and studied the stove. The meal was still plain. Mundane. They needed some little thing to jazz it up. She surveyed the canned goods in the pantry.
Aha! Cranberry sauce!
She opened a can and turned it out into a serving dish. She never made dishes with this many calories in her old home, and she reveled in her ability to at last cook large, so to speak. With élan and ritz.

The potato skins came off readily once they cooked. She skinned about half of the potatoes, leaving the skins on the rest as she mashed, then whipped them with the salt, garlic powder, a dollop of sour cream, butter, and milk.

Heaping them into a dish, she sprinkled a bit of dried parsley over the top just because. The peas went into a smaller serving dish, and the chicken, golden brown, looked elegant layered on a plate. She called the ladies to the table, garnering tons of praise as they tasted the food. And that satisfied her immensely. It was not like Jack's praise. He would offer praise, but there was always the negative add-on: “Nice, but you know we're both paying attention to our weight” or “Nice, but I bet you can do even better if you try harder.”

Hmm
, the potatoes really were very good.

They were cleaning up after the meal when Phillip showed up.

“I'll get my stuff.” Angela abandoned the kitchen and dug out her fishing equipment, her gift from kids who cared. The dishes would just have to do themselves tonight; the others abandoned the kitchen as well and headed down to the dock. Phillip had already piled the life vests, paddles, and oars on the dock.

Lynn explained, “Phillip is hyper-concerned about water safety. He got his kids drown-proofed before they were a year old. Now all three of them swim like otters. Wait till you see them.”

“Swim…but the lake is still terribly cold. Shouldn't it be warming up by now?” Judith looked over the dock edge at the water.

“I suspect the locals swim in it before people from, say, Florida would. And by September it's quite nice.” Lynn buckled into her life jacket. “Angela, let's you and I head out that way, and Phillip and Judith can go out that way.”

“Dibs on the rowboat.” Judith walked over and untied it. Phillip dropped the oars into the oarlocks and they crawled aboard.

If she had to go out in a boat, Angela would much prefer one that was not as tippy as a canoe, but well, here she was. She put her fishing gear in near the front, stepped into it, and settled onto the front seat. The canoe wobbled a little as Lynn put her own fishing gear in the back and climbed in behind it, giving Angela a bit of a fright. Just a bit. Angela pushed off as if she'd been doing this for years. In other words, smugly.

“Let's try that cove.” Lynn nodded to the right.

They paddled over and Angela got out her box of lures. “Which one do you recommend?”

“You never know this time of year. Try them until one works. I used this one last time.” With a practiced flick of the wrist, Lynn cast her line near a fallen tree. “You seem to be recovering beautifully from your old life. I am so glad.”

“Thank you. I would not have guessed this change of scene would be so healing. Charlie still waxes eloquent about the time he spent here with Phillip and Tommy. At last I can see why.”

“I hope now that they have an excuse, your children will come visit. It would be marvelous to see him again and meet your daughter.”

“I'm getting vague promises from them. I hope so, too.” Angela reeled the line in to change lures.

“Is your life here becoming more satisfying?” Lynn reeled her line in as well. Apparently she, too, had guessed wrong on the first one.

“Satisfying.” Angela thought about that. “I like the word. And now that my life is so different, I'm beginning to see that my former life was not really very satisfying at all.”

“For example…?” Lynn prompted.

“I'm finally no longer obsessed with making one more real estate sale; you cannot imagine how wearying that is. You land a sale and immediately you have to make another sale. And another. And I love not having to look gorgeous every moment. I see now that it was never my strong desire; it was Jack's expectation, even when we went to bed at night.” She paused, thinking. “On the other hand, I've noticed that I'm gaining a little weight.”

“It's not apparent.”

“Jack would have noticed, believe me. When the children were growing up, I was pleasingly plump, you might say. He let me know he didn't like that. So once the children went into high school, I really started working on my weight, on my hair, everything. I dropped the twenty pounds I'd picked up after we married and then lost ten more besides that. Unfortunately, I see I've gained back three.”

“So you can gain seven more is what you're saying and still weigh the same that you did as a bride.”

Angela laughed. “I hadn't thought of it that way.”

“And do you realize how many women would love to get back to what they weighed when they married?”

“True. It's not just the weight. All of it. Here I can wear flip-flops without getting some snarky comment.”

“Less pressure, in other words.”

“Exactly. And less judging. Shucks, no judging.” She cast out her line. “And volunteering in a library again, and it's not just kiddy lit in the school library, real grown-up books. Besides which I'm recovering my joy of cooking. That is very satisfying to me.”

“Well, we certainly appreciate it. You're a splendid cook. And you have the garden looking perfect.”

“It's fun. I don't—” Her bobber dipped and she drew the line aside. “I have one!”

Lynn grabbed the net and leaned forward, extending it close to Angela. The fish flopped into the net, and Angela could at last get a good look at it. “That's not a walleye. Is it a trout?”

“No, a whitefish. A nice one, too.”

Angela retrieved her lure and dropped the fish into the creel. She twisted around to look at Lynn. “Lynn, ‘satisfying' does not begin to describe it.”

T
hat was the most fantastic Fourth I've ever seen.” Judith took her coffee mug to stand in front of the window beside Angela. “Fireworks all around the lake like that last night, and today it is back to placid.” The sun had just leaped into the sky, making the blue even deeper as it traveled. While the men had picked up most of the debris from their own dock, the beach and lawn needed some more policing, decorated with pieces of red, white, and blue leftovers.

Angela would agree in spades. “I never tire of looking out over the lake, the sunrises like this, but all through the day. Always changing, no wind, puffs of wind, clouds, no clouds, birds, no birds.” They both caught their breath as a flock of honkers settled on the water, their big gray bodies and black arched necks visible from a distance.

“Did you see the mother the other day with her line of goslings behind her?”

“As I said about my own kids: they grow up so fast.”

They turned to grin at each other when the rooster crowed. His voice didn't crack for a change. “I think he's got it.” Judith sobered. “You know where Lynn is? She's usually right here enjoying the view by now.”

“Probably out in the garden. You going shopping to all the sales?” Angela asked.

“You have to be kidding. I do not go to any madness sales. Not after holidays and really not after Thanksgiving or Christmas. Melody talked me into it one time. I learned my lesson, and that was a fabric store. Women can get really pushy.”

Angela half smiled at the thought. “I used to. A friend of mine and I would get up before dawn and be in line to open the stores. Not anymore, especially on some of those sales, they open in the middle of the night. Even if the merchandise was free. Besides, there aren't any morning-after sales in real estate.”

“Maybe there should be. Like mattress sales to celebrate Washington's birthday.”

The rooster crowed again and this time he had an echo.

Judith giggled. “That red one thinks he should crow, too.”

“Phillip said it was about time to turn him into fried chicken. He's big enough.”

Judith turned toward the door. “I'm going to let the chickens out of the coop and feed them. Are you at the library today?”

“Not today.” Angela's cell did the two-toned signal for texts. She checked it and stuffed the phone back in her pocket. Jack. Her stomach clenched. When would she be able to get beyond reacting to these messages, let alone hearing his voice? The fury flared again, like a bonfire when someone threw on gas. She walked inside, dumped the dregs of her coffee in the sink, and went to stand in front of the fridge. “I feel like cooking. You want breakfast?”

“Sure,” Judith tossed over her shoulder on her way out the door, scooping up the pail of kitchen scraps they kept for the chickens.

Angela decided to bake muffins, so she got out the ingredients and turned on the oven. She was just sliding the muffin pan into the oven when Judith came back.

“Lynn isn't out there. Did you know that Homer likes to lie at the fence and watch the chickens?”

“Really? Is her SUV out there?”

“Yes. Besides, if she goes somewhere she always leaves a note.”

Miss Minerva announced her entrance with a demand for breakfast.

“Where's your mother?” Angela reached into the cupboard for the kitty food and poured the kibbles into Minerva's bowl. The cat strolled over, sniffed, and looked over her shoulder.

“No, you get the canned food at night. Kibbles in the morning. You know that.”

Another sniff and she crouched down to eat one kibble at a time.

“I'm going up to see if she's in her room.” Judith returned in a couple of minutes. “She's still in bed.”

“Is she sick?”

“I have no idea. But how anyone can sleep with the rooster crowing and the birds having a community meeting in that tree off her window…”

“Perhaps she just had a bad night.”

“Let's eat while the food is hot, and then I'll go check on her.” The two took a tray with hot apple muffins and scrambled eggs out on the deck, where Homer joined them.

“After breakfast, I'll go pick up the stuff down there.” Judith pointed toward the lake.

Angela shrugged. “That would be a good kid job.”

“True. I forget about child labor. You think I should call Maggie and ask?”

“Why not?”

Judith wagged her head. “I don't know, guess I'm not comfortable doing that.”

“All she can say is no. I know the guys are going somewhere this afternoon. Miss Priss is coming here so Maggie can sleep.”

When they finished, Judith cleaned up and Angela headed for the stairs. She paused in the doorway, to rap or not, decided not to, then tiptoed over to the bed.

“I'm awake.”

Angela leaned in closer. “Are you sick, Lynn?”

“Just had a bad night. Minerva came for me.” She threw back the covers and swung her feet over the side. Once she was sitting, the cat eased into her lap and patted her cheek with the paw tipped in white toes. “I know.” Lynn patted the cat and rolled her head from side to side. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Judith came up a while ago before she left for school. The muffins are still warm, and I'll scramble you some eggs, too.”

“I better take a shower and see if I can get going. I'll warm it up when I get down there.”

“You sure you're not running a temp or something? And by the way, you don't have to get up if you don't want to.”

“Thanks, I know, but Priss is coming over later and I promised to have cookie dough ready.”

“What kind? I'll start it. I'm in a baking mood today.”

“Jack texted again, right?”

“How'd you know?”

Lynn snorted. “You always bake when he tries to contact you.”

“Well, I guess that's better than hiding in bed. Tried that and it didn't help.” She shrugged. “You want roll out, drop cookies, or bars?”

“Roll out, I guess. Or…” She scrubbed her scalp. “I can't think clearly yet.”

“I should have brought the coffee up. I'll put a fresh pot on.” Angela found herself humming as she went back down the stairs. Stopping at the floor, she stared at the east wall. Humming. She hadn't been humming since she couldn't remember when. Years ago? Possibly.

She assembled cookie ingredients and was just starting to cream the butter and sugar when the mob descended. All right, so it was only one little kid, but the energy and noise generated equaled that of a pretty hefty mob.

Miss Priss hopped up on a counter stool on her knees and draped her top half across the counter. “Isn't G'ma gonna bake cookies?”

“Yes, she is. She'll be out shortly and she'll take over.”

When Lynn entered the kitchen, Angela abandoned the thought of baking cookies and just watched Lynn as she worked with her granddaughter. No, she wasn't working with her at all; she was playing with her, teasing, being teased, helping, being helped, loving, being loved.

The whirlwind departed a few hours later.

“I now know what being a grandma is like.” Angela set the dishwasher to running and turned to Lynn.

“That was a pretty good intro, but wait until you have them all together. Now that can get wild.” Lynn snapped the lid on the storage container full of cookies, some decorated with raisin faces, others with chocolate chips, red sugar sprinkles and variegated sprinkles. “She loves decorating cookies.”

“What a cutie she is.”

“True, but you didn't get a full dose of herself when in true princess mode. I read her the story of the princess and the pea one time, and all I could think was how appropriate. However, she can fish with the best of them and bait her own hooks, but she needs help sometimes getting the hook out. An outdoorsy princess.”

What would Angela's grandchildren be like? Would she ever get any? While Gwynn and Charles had married, neither couple had mentioned starting their families and now she found herself wishing they'd get started. Now there was a major, major change.
Major
change! Angela really was becoming new.

Oh, how Judith dreaded this! To be honest, thanks to Tom's coaching, she did not feel completely overwhelmed anymore by math. But today incompletely overwhelmed was no help at all. She slid into her plastic chair that was designed to keep students from falling asleep in it, laid her pack at her feet, and stretched her shoulders.

Here came Dr. Stern, the bubbly math prof. Derailed by half a dozen students waiting for her at the door, she answered questions, nodded, answered more questions…
Come on, Dr. Stern, we're losing time here.

Today was their first formal examination, and Judith would need every moment she could squeeze out of the hour. She opened her blue book and looked at it. A blue book. How long had it been since she'd seen one of these?

She got out four neatly sharpened pencils. Overkill? Not if you are so nervous that you break three leads. And she still had one pencil in her pack on reserve. She wrote the date, her name, and her ID number on the line on the cover.

Dr. Stern fiddled with her laptop. The overhead projector kicked into gear, and after a brief search (lower left corner of the screen), the title slide came on.

Judith would have made
blue
book
two words there, not one. And she giggled when she realized she was editing her professor's slide. She hunched her shoulders and dropped them down, tensing the muscles, letting up.
Here goes nothing.

The questions flashed up, three to a slide. Judith copied carefully and had time to double-check that she'd gotten it all exactly right.

A girl's voice called, “Dr. Stern! We haven't studied logarithms yet.”

The professor snapped back, “This is advanced math. You're supposed to come in here knowing what they are and how to deal with them.”

And thanks to Tom, who had drilled her on them, Judith did!

The screen went dark and Judith set to work, doing the problems she knew that she knew (including the one employing logs), then going to the tougher ones. She rejoiced that calculators were legal and she could punch the equations into her—Tom's—graphing calculator.

Moments later, Dr. Stern called, “Time. Close your books and pass them to the left.” The hour was gone, the whole hour! Judith had hardly touched one of the questions at all. And then Dr. Stern sent ice water through Judith's veins by calling her number. “Stay behind, please; I want to talk to you.”

Oh no, now what?

The professor's proctors carried the books forward and stacked them on the table beside the lectern. Judith waited until most of the others had filed out, then walked down to the lectern with feet made out of lead and encased in concrete.

“You asked me to remain behind.”

Dr. Stern smiled. “Thank you. Find your book, please. They're stacked in general order, front, middle, back.” She turned to address another student's question. By the time Judith dug out her blue book, the long line of students had dissipated.

Dr. Stern took her book from her hand and went through it, page by page, silently scanning each question. Nothing in her face betrayed what she was thinking. She could be a good poker player. Maybe she already was.

She flopped the book onto the stack and leaned forward on the lectern, both elbows. And she smiled. “Miss Rutherford, I was all prepared to ask why you thought you could handle this course. You failed the first two weeks and barely squeaked through the third. But I see you've scored at least seventy-five on this exam and probably higher. My aides grade the tests and we give partial credit, so you should come through this in the upper third of the class at the very least. I take it you're being tutored.”

“I am, by a man who really should be teaching math. He works miracles.”
And pours good footings.

“Please understand I'm not denigrating you in any way by saying this, but your performance today is indeed a small miracle. You've come a long, long way.” She stood erect. “Keep at it, please, Miss Rutherford. And incidentally, would you pass the word to your tutor that I will be looking for aides next semester? A good teacher would be a godsend.”

“I shall!” Judith's heart sang. “Thank you, Dr. Stern! Thank you very much.”

The professor turned away to address another student's question, so Judith left, her heart still singing. When was the last time it sang? She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
When?
The last time she was in college, all those years ago, and she aced world history.

Other pedestrians were pointedly walking around her, so she kept going to one of the memorial park benches and sat. With the sitting, she realized that thought made her howlingly angry. Her parents had been wealthy enough to hire the necessary help; Judith could at least have completed her bachelor's degree before devoting years to Rutherford House. She could be stepping right into master's level work now instead of starting out at the beginning again. Her parents had wasted her life and her brain and her dreams. They had minimized her, made her a servant, not because they could not afford servants but because—why? Why do this to their daughter? The fury burned.

But wait. Perhaps she had to reach middle age before she could appreciate success. She could at last pursue a dream, and she was in fact pursuing it. And succeeding against all odds. Even in math. Now there was a major, major change.
Major
change! Judith really was becoming new.

She stopped by Miller's Feed on the way home for some glass eggs.
Why?
To mess with her little chickens' minds! Yes, Judith Rutherford, high society dame, was psyching out poultry. She had read that you can put glass eggs in nests where you want your youngsters to lay when they start laying. Judith also picked up some laying mash, for her kids were getting to that age.