Aunt Ivy's Cottage: A totally gripping and emotional page turner

by Kristin Harper

  Zoey hurried inside the house and up the stairs to look in on Ivy, who was sleeping soundly. Since it was a cool, damp day for once, she covered her with a light blanket before going back downstairs and into the best room. She quietly walked over to where Nick was reaching up to skim his fingers across a section of wall near the opposite corner. He swiveled his head, grinning at her. How could he possibly be smiling still? she marveled.

  “Hi, Zoey. How did your interview go?”

  “A lot better than your afternoon went,” she replied apologetically. “Gabi told me you saved the day. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Just wait until you get my bill,” he joked.

  “Whatever you’re charging, it’s not enough.”

  “Actually, you’re in luck. I don’t think the flood affected this room. But I want to watch this spot for a few days. With sheetrock, sometimes it takes a while for the water to seep through, so I can’t promise you there’s no damage yet. If a stain shows up, I might have to remove a section of the wall and crown molding so you don’t develop a mold problem.”

  “I never liked that wallpaper anyway.” The once pink and red winding roses had faded to brown and maroon, and it was torn and peeling in several places. But in deference to her father’s wishes, Ivy refused to change it, just like almost everything else in the best room. “But what I meant was that I can’t compensate you enough for helping my family during another crisis. Especially for keeping an eye out for my aunt again.”

  “She was fine once she took her nitro pill. Well, not fine—she was kind of discombobulated, which is understandable considering all the chaos.” From the disgusted look on Nick’s face, Zoey knew he wasn’t referring to the bathtub overflowing.

  “Yeah, my niece said Mark was flipping out. Is that what triggered my aunt’s angina?”

  “Hard to say. She was already agitated because she’d left the water on, but I’m sure his tantrum didn’t help her heart any.”

  “It couldn’t have been pleasant for you, either,” Zoey empathized.

  “It’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”

  “Really?” She couldn’t imagine anyone spouting off the way Mark did when he was angry. Especially not in front of Nick, an unlikely audience for that kind of vitriol. “You mean you’ve heard worse from him or from someone else?”

  He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and gave her a sheepish look. “From him… the last time you weren’t here when he thought you should have been.”

  “Pft!” Zoey sputtered. “Is that what he was mad about this time, too? That I didn’t ask his permission before I left the premises?”

  “No, mostly he was going off about the cupboards being painted. Apparently, he’s not a fan of white.”

  “Then I should tell him it’s called alabaster,” she grumbled, eliciting a smile from Nick. Even when the house was literally falling down around her, she liked it that he appreciated her sense of humor. “I notice he didn’t stick around to give you a hand.”

  “Are you kidding? I was the one who suggested he should take a walk and cool down. Besides, Gabi helped me… until Moby escaped. Do you know if she’s located him yet?”

  “Shh.” Zoey touched Nick’s arm to quiet him. She heard a noise and wanted to determine whether Moby was hiding nearby or if Ivy was awake and moving around upstairs.

  He leaned toward her. “What’s wrong?” he whispered, his mouth enticingly close to her ear. If she turned her head toward him, just a smidgen, her lips would be—

  “When you’re done making out with the handyman, I want to talk to you in the living room,” Mark barked. Then he retreated from the doorway as abruptly he had appeared.

  Mortified, Zoey dropped her hand from Nick’s arm and stepped away from him. “My cousin is such a—”

  Nick covered his ears. “Please don’t say it. I’ve heard all the swearing I can handle for one day,” he joked, taking the edge off of Zoey’s embarrassment.

  Then he told her he’d left a fan running upstairs to dry the floor, but he had cut the electricity for the best room, bathroom and a portion of the basement. He’d be back to make sure it was safe before turning it on early the following morning on his way to his other client’s house.

  Zoey accompanied him outside and moved her car so he could leave. Since street parking was allowed after five o’clock, she didn’t pull back into the driveway again so she wouldn’t be blocking Mark. I wouldn’t want to delay his departure for even a minute, she thought.

  Once she was back inside she checked on Ivy again before dragging herself into the living room, where Mark was pacing in front of the fireplace. His clothes seemed to hang on him and his face was haggard. Concerned, she asked, “Hey, Mark, is something wrong?”

  “Uh, let’s see. I arrived here to find the bathroom flooded, Ivy in pain, Gabi in tears and you nowhere in sight. Not to mention the paint job in the kitchen looks like—”

  “I meant is something wrong with you. You seem to have lost a lot of weight in a short amount of time. Have you been sick?”

  “I’m sick all right. Sick and tired of what goes on around here.”

  Why do I even try to show him I care? “Could you please lower your voice? You’ll wake Aunt Ivy and it’s important that she gets plenty of rest these next couple of weeks.” Zoey thought Ivy had called Mark last evening to tell him about the surgery, but in case she was wrong she explained, “She has to have a minor procedure done soon and—”

  “No kidding. She told me last night. That’s what I came to talk to her about. I understand how a pacemaker will help her heart, but it isn’t going to help her memory.”

  Even though Zoey had concerns about her aunt leaving the water running, too, she knew better than to admit that to Mark when he was in this state of mind. He’d use what she said now to justify taking rash measures—in addition to whatever other scam he’d come here to put into motion—and afterward there’d be no going back.

  “We all have things that slip our memory from time to time. I’ve left the faucet on once or twice when I’ve been distracted. The only difference between Aunt Ivy and me is that I’ve got better hearing. So, whenever I’ve heard the water running, it has jogged my memory and I’ve turned it off.”

  “Excuses, excuses. First it was the gas. Then the water. What’s it going to take for you to see she can’t live on her own—a fire? Don’t you care about her at all?”

  Zoey was furious. “Don’t you dare act as if I don’t care about her when all you care about is her house!”

  “You’re right—I do care about the house. And I’m sorry if you’re so jealous that you’d rather see it burn to the ground than to see me inherit it. But I’m not going to stand idly by and let that happen.” It seemed like an afterthought when he added, “Or watch Ivy get hurt or die in the process.”

  Before Zoey could respond, Gabi burst through the door with Moby in her arms, bawling. “It’s my fault, Aunt Zoey. I did it. I left the faucet on. Aunt Ivy asked me to draw a bath for her and I-I forgot. I was on the phone. I’m really sorry.” Her shoulders were shaking so vigorously she nearly caused the cat to tumble to the floor.

  “You have got to be kidding me. Is everyone in this house utterly oblivious?” Mark jeered.

  “I’m so sorry, Aunt Zoey,” Gabi repeated. “I-I was afraid to admit it because you’re already upset with me about not telling you what I’ve been doing after school. I thought you’d get even madder when you found out about this and you’d want to send me home. Please don’t do that. I have nine hundred and thirty-one dollars in my savings account. I’ll pay for the damage, I promise.”

  “Exactly what have you been doing after school?” Mark butted in. When Gabi refused to answer—refused to even look in his direction—he advanced toward her and threatened, “Maybe I should call your father and tell him about the trouble you’ve been causing here.”

  Zoey swiftly stepped in-between them. Positioning herself in front of Gabi like a shield, she glared up a
t her cousin. Then, in the tradition of her great-aunts—first with the policemen, and then with Mr. Witherell—she demanded, “Leave her alone or leave this house.”

  Mark slammed the door on his way out.

  Over the weekend, Ivy wept nearly as often as in the days immediately following Sylvia’s death. She readily forgave Gabi, who apologized profusely for letting her take the blame for the flood. However, it was no consolation to Ivy to discover that she hadn’t been at fault.

  “Don’t you see?” she cried to Zoey. “I should have been able to recall that I wasn’t the one who turned the water on. Whether I forgot to turn it off, or forgot that I didn’t turn it on, it doesn’t matter. Either way, it shows there’s something wrong with my brain.”

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely accurate. I think you’re tired and you’ve had a lot of things on your mind. But after you get more rest and after you’ve recovered from the pacemaker procedure, if you’re still concerned, we’ll talk to your regular physician,” Zoey suggested, but her reassurance did little to improve Ivy’s mood.

  Mark’s presence in Hope Haven certainly didn’t help, either. Fortunately, he didn’t stay at the house overnight: this time he used the excuse that the pollen from the trees and grass was bothering him. He’d never mentioned having allergies before, but Ivy fell for it. Zoey suspected her aunt was paying for his room at The Harborview, but she kept her comments to herself. It’s not my money, so it’s not my business. The last thing she wanted to do was create any more tension between herself and her cousin, primarily because it would have upset Ivy.

  Mark had already troubled their aunt by telling her that Zoey had made him feel unwelcome on Friday afternoon. He didn’t explain in detail, because then he also would have had to admit he’d chosen to leave rather than to dial down his anger, but he said enough for Ivy to know there was conflict between them. She was so anxious about it that Zoey overheard her telling the portrait of Denny, “The kids aren’t getting along and I don’t know what to do about it, Captain.”

  So Zoey went out of her way to be congenial to her cousin. It was no small challenge, especially after he ridiculed Ivy’s kitchen design, calling it a cross between a checkerboard and an elementary school bathroom. After that, Ivy seemed to lose interest in the remodel and declined Zoey’s offer to browse through samples of cupboard and drawer pulls online. Nor did she want to help Gabi bake another strawberry-rhubarb pie. Although she rallied long enough to prepare brunch for Mark on Saturday morning, she was so exhausted afterward that she took a three-hour nap. On Sunday, Mark actually invited her out to brunch, a gesture Zoey intuitively mistrusted. But she didn’t rock the boat by suggesting it might have been better if their aunt relaxed at home while Mark made her breakfast there.

  That evening, as Ivy was half-reclining in bed, twisting her hair around a roller, Zoey reported that Nick had left a message for her saying he planned to remove the tiles from the backsplash on Tuesday. “Isn’t that exciting?” she asked, hoping to spark her aunt’s enthusiasm about the remodel again.

  “Yes, it’s fine,” Ivy flatly replied. She had been complaining all afternoon that she was too hot. At first Zoey was worried she had a fever but when she took her temperature, it was normal, so she’d opened the windows wide, including those in her aunt’s room. The surf was rough and she could hear it slapping the shore across the street.

  “Aunt Ivy, is anything wrong?”

  She set her brush on the nightstand without putting the rest of her hair up. “I’m just tired. Please stop fussing and turn out the light. I’m getting up bright and early tomorrow.”

  Zoey was going to ask if that was because she intended to invite Mr. Witherell in for some of the pie Gabi had made on her own—her second attempt was nearly perfect—but Ivy had already closed her eyes and rolled over. So Zoey went to bed early, too. She didn’t feel very tired but she was eager for the day to end. Even if it was irrational, she felt as if they were racing against the clock and if they could just make it to the following Monday, when her aunt’s surgery was scheduled, everything would be okay.

  Meanwhile, she took comfort in knowing Mark was catching the 10:22 a.m. ferry back to the mainland tomorrow. She never did figure out what it was he truly came to Dune Island to discuss with Ivy, but Zoey assumed it had less to do with her health than with his needing money. It usually did. But that wasn’t her business and as long as he departed on schedule, she no longer cared why he’d arrived.

  She must have been more tired than she realized because she didn’t wake until her phone rang at 9:30 the next morning. It was the library director calling to offer her the role. Even though the salary was more than she’d been making in her former position, Zoey asked time to consider it. The director sounded disappointed, but she agreed Zoey could have a week to make her decision.

  Eager to share news that might cheer her aunt, Zoey whisked down the hall. Ivy’s door was slightly ajar and Zoey was pleased to see she was dressed and her hair was combed—the day was already shaping up to be a good one.

  “Congratulations, dear. I’m not surprised they’d snatch you up,” her aunt said when Zoey told her about the offer. “When did you tell me they want you to start working?”

  “It would be sometime in August, but I haven’t accepted the position yet. I told them I needed to think it over.”

  “Why would you hesitate? You remember what I said about not putting off—”

  “Yes, I remember, Aunt Ivy,” she interrupted. “But it’s common professional practice to take time to consider an offer. It’s not as if they’ll rescind it just because I didn’t jump at the chance to work for them.”

  Ivy’s eyes welled and Zoey immediately regretted her sharp tone. She’d only meant to prevent her aunt from worrying she’d lose the offer. As she turned to get Ivy a tissue from the nightstand, she noticed a small, open suitcase on the bed. “Are you packing?”

  “Yes. For my trip to Boston.”

  Zoey was flummoxed. She appreciated that her aunt had been expanding her horizons lately, but an excursion to the city? She must have been pulling Zoey’s leg. Either that, or she was planning ahead, giving herself something to look forward to after her surgery. “Boston?”

  “South of Boston. Plymouth? Plympton? I forgot. That’s why Mark said he’d tell you—because I can’t remember all the details. Didn’t he discuss it with you?”

  “No.” The only legitimate reason Zoey could imagine for him taking Ivy on an off-island trip was that he wanted to get a second medical opinion about whether she needed a pacemaker. Still, Zoey wished he had given her a heads-up, too, so she could have gone with them. “Why does he want you to go off-island with him?”

  Her aunt zipped her rollers into a cosmetic bag and sat down on the bed. “So I can spend the night at an assisted living facility. Just to see what it’s like.”

  Don’t react. Don’t react. Stress is bad for Aunt Ivy’s heart. Zoey repeated the mantra to herself before asking, “Is now really a good time for that? You’ve already got an outing this week—your pre-op screening. Couldn’t you wait until after you’ve had your surgery to go to Boston?”

  “I suppose.” Ivy’s palm was pressed against her cheek, signaling her ambivalence. Obviously, Mark had strong-armed her into this trip. “But it might be two months before I feel well enough to travel.”

  “Two months isn’t very long.”

  “No, but by then the unit that’s opening up in September might be rented out.”

  September? Zoey was losing her battle to keep calm. “You’d move in September?”

  “If I move, yes, September would be an opportune time for everyone. But I certainly haven’t decided anything yet.”

  “I don’t understand. We just started the remodel. And you love this house, Aunt Ivy. Almost all of your memories are here.”

  “Yes, but you’ve said it yourself—my memories run deeper than superficial reminders. Besides, this place is getting too hard for me to keep up. I’m
too weak. Too forgetful.”

  It was as if Mark’s words were coming from her aunt’s mouth. As if she’d been brainwashed. So this must have been what he was harping on during his phone calls to Aunt Ivy and why he’d visited her this weekend.

  “That’s why I’m here—to help you. When I leave, I’ll arrange for someone else to do the things I’ve been doing, like shopping and taking you to your appointments. Carla’s eager to return to do the housekeeping and we’ll get someone to help you with whatever else you need.” Zoey paused, letting her words sink in. “You may feel weak now, but Dr. Laurent told us a lot of his patients noticed an increase in energy once they got their pacemakers implanted because their hearts don’t have to work so hard any more.”

  “But what if I don’t get stronger or feel better? What if I feel worse?”

  Oh. Now Zoey got it: her aunt was frightened. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. But if it does, we can consider other options then.” Zoey sat down beside Ivy, relieved she seemed to be getting through to her. She repeated, “You’ve got a lot going on right now. Don’t you think it would be a better idea to rest up before your surgery?”

  “I would prefer that, yes, but I’ve already told Mark I’ll go and he’s made all the arrangements. He’s on his way over from the hotel to pick me up any minute now.”

  “I’m sure it’s not a problem for him to reschedule.”

  Mark came into the room just then. Either he had been eavesdropping from the hallway or his timing was uncanny. “Actually, it is a problem. I had to call in a lot of favors for this. If Ivy she doesn’t stay overnight now, she might lose her position on the waiting list of prospective residents.”

  “If she decides she eventually wants to move, there must be dozens of other places she could consider.” Like one that’s closer to Providence, so I can visit her as often as she wants me to.