Back to McGuffey's. Liz Flaherty

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СКАЧАТЬ temporary position would give Kate time to make a decision about her future. Time to find passion. Time to stop saying, “Schuyler and Lund,” every time the phone rang. That had triggered quite a reaction when her old boss called her after the house fire to offer his sympathy and ask if there was anything he could do. The offer stopped short of giving her job back, though.

      “If it gets overwhelming, T. J. from over at Traveler’s Rest will be able to help you. He was a godsend when Frank died. It was amazing how much I didn’t know and I’d been here the whole time.” Marce still smiled, but sadness lingered in her eyes.

      Kate took a deep breath. “Let’s crunch a few numbers. See if we can afford each other for the summer.”

      They crunched, using the calculator on Kate’s phone and the paper napkins lying on the island, and by the time the dishwasher had stopped swooshing hot water around, they’d come to an agreement.

      “I can pick the girls up at college in Burlington and we can go directly to the lake,” said Marce happily. “Going on the hope we could do business, I’ve already cleared you out a closet and a dresser in my room and made space in the bathroom for your things.” She looked pityingly at Kate’s sweatshirt. “You’ll get some soon.”

      Kate picked at her faded shirt. “You talk as though I need them. You don’t think this is attractive?”

      “Come on,” said Marce, laughing, “I’ll show you the living quarters.”

      The bedroom, sitting room and bath had been created from the summer kitchen of the old house. They were comfortable and welcoming, opening into the three-season room accessed by the kitchen. Kate picked up a picture of Frank and Marce that sat on the bedside table. The couple sat together in a chair meant for one, and instead of smiling for the camera, they were smiling at each other.

      Kate felt like crying. “Do you think you’ll ever love someone again?”

      Her face softening, Marce looked at the framed snapshot in Kate’s hands. “Maybe. But not that way. I think you only get that once. On my good days, though, I remember how lucky I am to have felt that way at all. As time goes on, there are more and more good days, so it’s all right. It’s all right,” she repeated, as though trying to convince herself.

      The sound of the bell on the desk in the foyer made her lift her head. “That’ll be weekend guests. Come watch me check them in. You’ll have the hang of things in no time.”

      Kate watched as Marce greeted the newlywed couple from Indiana. They signed the old-fashioned guest register, then added their information to a card. On the way up the stairs, Marce told them about local attractions and explained the times and choices for breakfast. “There’s an elevator,” she added, pointing toward the end of the hall upstairs, “in case you visit Wish Mountain and find that a flight of steps is more than you can face at the end of the day. The elevator groans as though it’s on its very last lift up, but it’s well maintained and safe. We tell everyone it just makes that noise to add to the ambience of the place.”

      The bell sounded from below. “Kate,” said Marce, “would you attend to that please while I show Mr. and Mrs. Fallon how to open this window without breaking any nails?”

      “Of course.” Kate smiled at the guests. “Welcome to Kingdom Comer.” There, that wasn’t much different from saying, Schuyler and Lund. How may I direct your call?

      But there were no guests in the foyer, only Joan n and her mother. Before Kate could inquire what they were doing there and where Joann got the blouse she was wearing, the door opened, admitting Maeve McGuffey and her daughter. Morgan was a history professor at a small private college in Fionnegan even though she still looked like the homecoming queen she’d been in high school.

      Kate hugged Maeve and then Morgan. “How do you do it? Is it hard teaching students who want to take you out after class?”

      “I got Mom’s bones.” Morgan beamed at her mother. “And you know the rest—clean living and good liquor.”

      They shared a laugh, and Kate took a longer look at Maeve. The green eyes her son had inherited still sparkled, but she looked tired. Older. Kate shook her head at her. “You’re working too hard, aren’t you?”

      Maeve waved a dismissive hand. “Working’s good for the soul—just gets a bit hard on the body from time to time.”

      “Go on into the parlor,” Marce invited from the stairway. “Here we are, Kate. Now you can see how we handle parties. This is obviously an afternoon one, confined to the east parlor and the dining room—unless someone gets a bit rowdy. Penny’s catering it, so everyone will have gained ten pounds or so by the time they leave.”

      “That’s odd. She didn’t say anything when we talked last night,” Kate said, following the guests toward the parlor.

      The room, a well-lit expanse of cushy blue carpet, chintz slipcovers and lap-size quilts tossed over the backs of chairs, was full. More to the point, it was full of women Kate knew, all holding glasses and most of them laughing.

      “Well,” she said, feeling a little more hurt than she’d have cared to admit, “is this a meeting of the Fionnegan Women’s Club? More to the point, wouldn’t I have known about it if it existed?” She wanted to ask why she hadn’t been invited but was afraid she might not like the answer.

      Penny crossed the room to hug her. “We thought about telling you, but you’re not nearly well dressed enough to join.” She gestured at the crop pants and matching blouse she was wearing. “Joann handed this down to me after owning it only two years, making me the walking dress code for this group.”

      Meg Palmer, a paralegal from Schuyler and Lund, stood. “We decided that since you’d given roughly four hundred wedding and baby gifts over the years, it was your turn to have a shower. And since none of us can face that sweatshirt for one more day, we elected to make it a clothing shower.”

      Joann pinched Kate’s sleeve, wrinkling her nose. “Wasn’t this sweatshirt Penny’s in high school?”

      “No, actually it was Dan’s. Penny’s all had baby spit-up stains on them. But the jeans were yours somewhere near the end of the last decade. They should pass muster.” Kate narrowed her eyes at the insurance agent. “And if you want to keep collecting insurance premiums from me, you won’t remind me that the reason you gave them away was that they were two sizes too big for you.”

      “Sit down, Kate, and open your presents,” Marce urged, walking around the room with a bottle of white and a bottle of red wine, refilling glasses. “After Friday, when I leave you here, you won’t have that much sitting-down time.”

      Kate sat in the chair offered to her, then gasped with delight when Penny and Joann brought in armloads of gifts, dumping them unceremoniously on the floor in front of her.

      “Open mine first!” Penny sat on the floor with the gift bags and brightly wrapped packages and rooted until she found a box festooned with ribbons and covered in Christmas paper. “Michael wrapped it,” she explained.

      The present contained a pair of pajamas “for slumber parties,” a bottle of wine “also for slumber parties and you’ll always know it was from me because it was really cheap,” and a pretty green blouse: “Dan picked it out. It wasn’t even on sale!” Also in the package were two Blue Onion cups and saucers “for after the slumber party” and a replica of their senior year T-shirt СКАЧАТЬ