The Cottage on Juniper Ridge (17 page)

He snapped off the cap and took a long draw, then regarded her, stony-faced.

She closed the distance between them. “Please do this. For me? For us?”

He didn’t say anything.

“We’re drifting apart, Wayne. We’re all drifting. We’re in the same house but we’re not together.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he said in disgust. “Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“I’m not,” she insisted. “You spend more time on your laptop and your cell phone than you do talking to me.”

“That’s an exaggeration. And in case you didn’t notice, I’m almost always working on that laptop.”

She stepped away and threw up her hands. “That’s my point. And it’s really pathetic if you can’t unfasten yourself from that electronic leash for even a couple of weeks. Where does that put your family?”

“Oh, so now you’re going to guilt me into doing this?”

“I’m not trying to guilt you. I’m trying to make a point. Please, Wayne. All I’m asking for is two weeks.”

He took another slug of beer. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal.”

Uh-oh. “What kind of deal?”

“I’ll do this back-to-nature thing on two conditions.”

“Two!”

“Yeah, two.”

Boy, he was pushing it. “Okay, what are they?”

“One, next year I get to pick where we go.”

“All right.” She could do that. “What’s the other?”

“When we get back you stop nagging me about being on my computer.”

Nagging, that was rather a strong word. She didn’t
nag.

“I mean it, Ton. That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

If they came home and slipped back into their old routines, the whole vacation would have been for nothing. But if they didn’t get away, if she didn’t try to break the electronic leash, nothing would change. “Okay. Deal.”

“Fine.”

He was still looking miffed, so to soften the moment she suggested, “Seal it with a kiss?”

The stone face finally became human again and he smiled. “Good idea.”

“I still think this is a dumb idea,” he said later as they lay tangled in the bedsheets. “We’re city people. What are we going to do cooped up in some cabin for two weeks?”

Weren’t men supposed to have a sense of adventure? Where was her man’s? “We can hike and play games. And I signed us up to learn how to fly fish.”

Now he seemed interested. “Yeah?”

“It’ll be something different,” she said.

“You can say that again. You’d better hope we aren’t ready to kill one another after the first day.”

She suddenly remembered her daughter’s teenage wrath at Christmas. And that was over being cut off from her texting for only two days. Other than an occasional visit to town, Toni was about to deprive her for two weeks. And Jeffrey wouldn’t have his Wii games. Would he drive his sister nuts? What if they all got cabin fever?

Oh, boy. What had she done?

Chapter Sixteen

Sharing treasures can be even more rewarding than holding on to them.

—Muriel Sterling, author of
Simplicity

S
tacy’s grandmother was gone. As her mother and aunt worked their way through a long to-do list, she did her best to help. While they made arrangements with the cemetery and secured the church and minister, she put together the obituary, hired someone to sing and called friends and relatives to tell them about the memorial service.

By the time the day arrived she was wrung out. She walked into the church and was surprised to see so many flowers. The immediate family had requested that, instead of flowers, friends and relatives donate to her grandmother’s favorite charity, Samaritan’s Purse, an organization that gave food, medicine and other kinds of assistance to people in needy countries. They’d already received many notices of donations to that worthy cause, but Stacy was glad some people had opted to send flowers. They made her think of Nana’s garden in the summer.

The church was rapidly filling up, and it wasn’t just older people. She was happy to see all the members of her book club sitting in the row behind the one reserved for family. There was Juliet and Cecily, Chita, sacrificing a precious day off, and Charley, now married and sporting a wedding ring. Cass had taken time off work. Chelsea and Dot were there, as well, proving that although they weren’t coming to the meetings anymore they were still book club members at heart. Even Jen Heath, their newest member, was present.

“Who’s minding the store?” Stacy asked Cass as they hugged.

“We’re closed for the afternoon,” Cass replied.

Stacy was truly touched because she knew a closed bakery meant a loss of business. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Of course I should have,” Cass said. “Who lets friends walk through things like this alone?”

It seemed as if everyone in Icicle Falls (not to mention regions beyond) had felt the same way. During the service, many shared their memories of what her grandmother had done for them.

“She was my Sunday school teacher when I was in third grade,” one man said. “She brought cookies every Sunday and that was enough to make me look forward to going to church.”

“She was one of my favorite customers,” said Pat Wilder, who owned Mountain Escape Books. “She always had a plate of cookies for the staff when she came in.”

A woman Stacy’s age stood up. Stacy didn’t recognize her, but then a lot of names in Nana’s address book had been unfamiliar. “We moved away from Icicle Falls twenty years ago, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to see Erna,” the woman said. “But I’ll always remember Wednesday afternoons at her house, learning to quilt.”

Stacy felt tears welling up. Nana had taught her to quilt, too. Which reminded her... What were they going to do with all the quilts she’d made?

She had her answer to that question soon enough. Two cousins each took one, and she brought the rest of the quilts home with her, along with the Depression and carnival glass.

The quilts got piled on Autumn’s old bed. She stuffed the glassware in any closet or cupboard corner she could find. And even as she piled up possessions she couldn’t part with, she thought of her aunt’s words.
I don’t want to do this to my kids.

Things could be both a blessing and a burden. If she were to get hit by a truck and die tomorrow, she knew what category everything she’d saved would fall into.
You’re not going to be able to keep all this,
she told herself. But then what to do with it? She couldn’t just dump it.

The following week her mother phoned. “I got a call from your uncle Jack, who’s Nana’s executor. He found something she left for you.”

“Where? We emptied the house.”

“In her safe deposit box. It’s an envelope. He says it looks like it’s got cash in it.”

“But Nana didn’t have any money.”

“None to speak of,” her mother agreed. “She must have been saving this for some time. Apparently she had one for all four of your cousins, too. Anyway, Uncle Jack dropped it by the house, so whenever you want to come pick it up...”

“I’ll come by later today,” Stacy said.

And when she did and opened the envelope she was shocked to see ten hundred-dollar bills. Along with it was a note.

This isn’t much, my darling girl, but I hope you’ll use it for something as special as you are. I’m so proud of you and your creative ability and your sweet family. I wish I could stay around to see what wonderful things you do with the rest of your life, but even as I’m writing this note I know it won’t be long before I go to be with the Lord. I love you.

Nana

Stacy hadn’t thought she could cry any more but she’d been wrong. She gave her mother the letter and went to the bathroom for a handful of tissues.

“That’s lovely,” her mother said when she returned.

Mom had tears in her eyes, too, and Stacy passed her a tissue. “I have no idea what to use that money for, but Nana’s right. I should use it for something special.”

“Maybe a little trip for you and Dean?” her mother suggested.

“I don’t know,” Stacy said. Somehow, simply taking a trip didn’t seem like the proper use for her tiny windfall.

“Well, you’ll think of something.”

Two days later, she was driving down Center Street and saw the empty store sitting between D’Vine Wines and Tina’s Lace and Lovelies. Suddenly she could see that empty space full of beautiful glassware, homemade quilts, antiques and collectibles. She’d asked for a sign and had wound up with an envelope of money and more than enough inventory to stock a small shop.
What have you got to lose?
she asked herself. She parked her car and went into the wine shop.

Ed York was there, visiting with Pat Hunter, who owned the bookstore. “Stacy, how are you doing?” Pat asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. And she was—other than wanting to cry all the time. She turned to Ed. “I understand you’re the man to see about renting that retail space next door.”

“Did you have something in mind?” he asked, his smile encouraging her to share her idea.

So she did. “What do you think?” she asked when she’d finished.

“I don’t know about Ed,” Pat told her, “but I think that sounds lovely. And right next door to a shop that sells lace and china? Perfect.”

Ed nodded. “I agree.”

“Except I’ve never owned a shop. I have no idea where to begin.”

Ed put an arm around her shoulders. “Trust me. It’s not that hard. We’ll all help you get started.”

He gave her a lease agreement to look over and suggested she go home and talk about it with her husband. If she wanted to proceed she could call him. “I’ve had a couple other people ask about it, but I’ll hold it for you for the next twenty-four hours. How’s that?”

“That’d be great. I would like to talk to my husband.” But she was already pretty darned sure what her decision would be. She practically skipped back to her car. She’d wanted to know what to do next, wanted a sign. Short of skywriting, Nana’s gift, along with the available retail space, was about as clear a sign as she was going to get.

“Go for it,” Dean said when she told him at dinner.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“But I don’t think the money Nana left me is going to be enough to start a business. In fact, I know it’s not.”

He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “If you want to do this, we’ll come up with what you need.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. I think it’s a good idea.”

“And will you help me?”

“Of course. Hey, we’ll need to build some fancy shelving for that stuff,” he said, and she knew he was anticipating all the fun he’d have out in his shop in the garage.

“I was thinking more about the business end, like the bookkeeping.”

“That, too,” he said. “But you’ve got to have someplace to put things.”

“There’s a beautiful, old bookcase at the Kindness Cupboard,” she said. “And a vintage drop-leaf table. It’s been painted blue but I suspect there’s some nice wood under all that paint.”

“I’ll strip it for you,” Dean offered.

The more they talked, the more excited they both got.

“Let’s see the lease agreement,” he said, moving his plate aside.

She watched impatiently as he read through it.

At last he said, “This looks pretty standard.”

“And the location is great.”

“Well, then.” He raised his wineglass. “Here’s to my wife the entrepreneur. And to success.”

“To new adventures,” she said, and they clinked glasses.

She made her big announcement at the March book club meeting, right after Charley finished showing off pictures from her surprise wedding in Las Vegas.

“That’s wonderful,” Juliet said.

“A great idea,” Cass agreed. “And exactly the right business for you.”

“I hope so,” Stacy said. “I just hope I don’t fall flat on my face.”

“You won’t,” Chita said. “And when you have your grand opening we’ll all be there to shop.”

“I hope you make a ton,” added Jen.

“If I can pay the rent on the shop and have a little left over I’ll be fine. I know it’s going to sound funny, but I’m not doing this to make a ton of money. I want to match up pretty things with people who’ll really appreciate them. I don’t need to clutter my house with a lot of stuff my kids won’t want. I don’t want to clutter my house, period.”

She’d already packed up a lot of things to sell at her store and it felt good. The objects she still had actually showed so much better. That wasn’t the only benefit. “I feel...lighter. And I have less to dust.”

“That sure isn’t like my house these days,” Juliet said with a smile. “Baby stuff everywhere!”

“That’s fun stuff,” Charley said.

“It is.” Juliet nodded. “Our little guy is certainly keeping us busy. But I still want to have a veggie garden this year.” She held out a book with a basket of vegetables on the cover and a catchy title—
Just Beet It.
“This came into the bookstore a few days ago, and I thought it might be fun to read for April. It’s a memoir about a woman who decides to live off the land.”

“That goes hand in hand with simplifying your life. I’d be up for reading it,” Jen said.

Charley made a face. “Gardening. Ugh. I’ll read the book, but don’t anybody expect me to start growing tomatoes, not with a business to run.”

“And a new husband,” put in Cass. “You’ll have your hands full cultivating that relationship.”

“It might be interesting to read, though,” Chita said. “I’ve thought of doing a small garden with the kids. In my spare time,” she cracked.

“So, are we good with this book?” Juliet asked.

The others agreed and Juliet promised to order more copies when she went in to work the following day. “Someone can have this one now,” she offered.

“I’m not in a hurry for it,” Charley said.

“I’ll take it,” Jen told her. “If no one else wants it.”

“It’s yours,” Juliet said.

She pulled out her wallet and handed over some bills and that was that.

Stacy had to admire her. Jen Heath jumped into new adventures with total abandon. Well, she had her own adventure now and she could hardly wait to open the doors of Timeless Treasures.

* * *

The group broke up around nine, the women who had to get up early going home for a good night’s sleep and Charley probably going home for a good night of sex. Jen sighed as she got in her car. She loved Icicle Falls and she was glad she’d simplified her life. But parts of it were
too
simple. Her love life could be summed up in one word—nothing.

She needed to stop fantasizing about Garrett Armstrong and move on.

Still, Jen couldn’t resist wanting to visit with him when he came by to pick up the rent. She could envision herself making him lavender tea and giving him home-grown veggies from her garden. That wouldn’t be poaching. That would just be...sharing.

She opened the book to the first chapter. “My Love Affair with Dirt.” She frowned. She didn’t want a love affair with dirt. She wanted a love affair with Garrett Armstrong. But he wasn’t cooperating. And then there was Tilda, who’d probably beat Jen with her nightstick if she went anywhere near him.

It looked as if the only bed she was going to see any action in was the flower bed.