Honeysuckle Hollow

by Jennifer Moorman

  Curiosity pulled Tessa to the tile work surrounding the cast iron mantel. She tiptoed toward the fireplace and whispered, “Please don’t fly out and kill me. I come in peace. I mean you no harm.” What am I, an extraterrestrial? Silence answered her.

  She reached out and rubbed the edge of her fisted hand against a tile in the top left corner. “Would you look at that,” she said. “A face appears.” Tessa watched as a bas-relief tile of a face peaked through the grime, looking a lot like Robin Hood. She used her fingers to scrub the tile in the opposite corner. As the beautiful face of a woman appeared, she smiled. “And Maid Marian. This is a fairy tale house.”

  Thunder bellowed and the chandelier in the foyer responded, throwing tinkling echoes throughout the front of the house. Tessa walked to the nearest window and peered up at the sky. Shadowy clouds billowed low and angry. She wandered into the large family room and crossed to the built-in bookshelves. On one of the lowest shelves sat ten leather-bound books with no titles on the spines. Tessa removed one and gaped at the title on the cover: Guests of Honeysuckle Hollow. The handwritten dates on the inside front cover dated back more than twenty-five years ago. Like the book the bats knocked from the mantel the day before, this volume was filled to the final page with guests’ scribblings. Each of the ten novels was bursting with the names and words of all the people who had found refuge in Honeysuckle Hollow. Tessa inhaled and pressed the open book to her chest. Her throat squeezed. This house had touched so many, and now it was suffering. She had to do something.

  A knock sounded at the door, and a voice called out a greeting from the foyer. Tessa returned the book to the shelf and walked up the hallway. A young woman, who looked to be Tessa’s age, stepped through the doorway. Her shiny, black hair was pulled into a ponytail. Even though she was dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants and a maroon tank top, Tessa saw she had the body of a ballet dancer—lithe and willowy. An umbrella was tucked beneath her arm.

  “Can I help you?” Tessa asked as she dropped the body spray into her purse.

  “I’m here to help you, I believe,” the woman said.

  Tessa smiled. “Oh, you must be the cleaning service,” she said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone until late this afternoon. Mrs. Lucy said all her help was tied up, but I’m glad you’re here. I hope you’ve brought the powerful cleaners. Did she explain to you the state of things here because—”

  The woman held up her hand, and Tessa stopped talking. The woman’s smile widened and displayed white teeth against her mocha-colored skin, making her even more attractive.

  “I’m not the maid,” she said. “I dressed as a French maid one year for Halloween—big mistake—but I hardly think that counts. I’m Charlie Parker.”

  Tessa’s mouth hung agape for a few seconds. “You’re a woman.”

  Charlie laughed. “Last I checked.”

  Charlie held out her hand, and Tessa shook it, feeling like an idiot. “I’m Tessa Andrews, the real estate agent working Honeysuckle Hollow.”

  “Oh, don’t look so sorry. It’s a common source of confusion that not only is a woman named Charlie, but that I’m also a contractor. But I can do the job, don’t worry.”

  Tessa nodded. “I trust Mr. Jenkins. Thanks for coming over.”

  “Good thing we’re meeting this morning,” Charlie said, tossing a thumb over her shoulder. “Looks like it’s going to downpour any second.”

  “It’s not going to rain,” Tessa blurted. Then she furrowed her brow. “It’s not,” she repeated as though arguing with herself.

  “Have you seen it out there? It’s darker than the Tar Baby,” Charlie said. She whipped out her umbrella and tapped it against her palm. “I hope you brought one of these. Is that your car out there? The orange one? Windows are down.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not—” Tessa paused. Going to rain, a voice finished. She bit her lower lip and tucked her hair behind her ears. Her eyes darted toward the windows. Even from her vantage point, she could see the darkness hanging above the town. How was it not going to rain, and why did she keep thinking it wouldn’t? She cleared her throat. “Let’s talk about the house.”

  “Mr. Jenkins said you’re wanting to fix up this place,” Charlie said, stepping into the living room, back out into the foyer, and then into the dining room. She lifted a sheet from a dining chair before dragging a finger along the chair rail encircling the room. “Gonna take a lot of work. You thinking total redo or touch ups here and there? What’s your end point?”

  “First, I want to make the house safe. Well, before that, I want to get rid of the infestation, and then I want to make sure the house is sound,” Tessa said. “Right now I need to figure out how much it will cost to get this place market ready, and I’m not sure what kind of repairs it needs. I’m hoping you’ll give me an idea. Let me show you around.”

  Tessa led Charlie throughout the house. While Tessa stood on the attic’s folding ladder, halfway in the attic and halfway still in the house, her cell phone rang. She shoved her hand into her pocket, pulled out her phone, and answered the call.

  “Hey, Mama,” she said. “I’m working right now—”

  “Have you seen the weather channel?”

  “No, ma’am—”

  “Hasn’t Mystic Water suffered enough? I can’t believe it’s calling for a massive streak of thunderstorms. How is everyone taking it? Are they in a panic? Have you decided—”

  “Mama, I’ve heard the reports, but it’s not gonna rain,” Tessa said, feeling more and more convinced.

  “How could you know that?”

  “I just know. Mama, don’t worry. It’ll pass right over us.” Tessa exhaled. “I’ll call you back, okay? I’m working.” She ended the call and shoved the phone into her pocket. She heard Charlie’s laughter from somewhere in the attic.

  When it came time to assess the exterior of the house, including the crawl space, Charlie offered to show Tessa what lay beneath Honeysuckle Hollow. Tessa had no desire to explore the darkness hiding under the abandoned house. Armed with a headlamp and flashlight, Charlie shimmied beneath the house and disappeared for long minutes.

  Tessa knelt down and stared through the crawl space opening. “You okay?”

  Charlie informed her there was a huge black snake in the far corner, and Tessa knew she’d made the smart choice to stay above ground.

  Charlie wrote extensive notes and sketched in a notepad she kept tucked in her back pocket. After nearly two hours of discussion, Charlie agreed to take on the project should Mrs. Steele want to move forward with repairs. Charlie felt confident she and a team could start work on Honeysuckle Hollow by the end of the week. Before renovations could get started, Tessa needed to call Mrs. Steele concerning the budget. She also wanted to make sure the exterminator and the cleaners finished their jobs.

  As they stood on the front porch, Charlie stepped into the front yard and looked skyward. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Still ain’t raining. How about I call you for a weather report instead of watching the news?” She marched across the yard toward her truck.

  Wind, heavy with moisture, whirled across the porch, dampening every space it touched. Tessa’s stomach clenched and her palms began to sweat as she inhaled the scent of thyme. She tucked her hair behind her ears. The echo of Crazy Kate’s words fluttered around in her mind like a lightning bug in a mason jar. If the garden could help her predict the weather, what else could it do?

  7

  Strawberry Pancakes

  After leaving Honeysuckle Hollow, Tessa slipped into her office, checked messages, and then looked over Charlie’s notes again. The house was salvageable, but extensive work was needed if it was to be returned to its former beauty. Tessa wasn’t sure how much money Mrs. Steele was willing to pour into the house, so she created a few different options. One option would be to repair the basics—electrical, plumbing, exterior and interior supports—and make the house market ready, but only as a property in need of renovation. The next option required mor
e upgrades—new flooring, windows, doors, paint, appliances, and other minor aesthetics. The final option would be to restore Honeysuckle Hollow completely, to recreate what the home had been when it was first built but with modern appliances and conveniences.

  Tessa called Mrs. Steele, and when she received no answer, she left a detailed message about what she’d found and about possible avenues to explore. She printed a few more listings for herself and texted Lily, Tonight? Lily responded, Be there at 7.

  Tessa met the cleaning crew at Honeysuckle Hollow late in the afternoon, but they weren’t prepared for the state of the house. Tessa walked them through the rooms and gave them directions on what to clean and what to leave alone until she had more information from Mrs. Steele. They arranged to return the next day.

  As the blazing red sun set, Tessa changed out of her work clothes and pulled on a pair of oversize gray sweatpants and her favorite gray Eeyore T-shirt. She bobby pinned her hair behind her ears and washed her face. Then she grabbed Mrs. Borelli’s recipes from the countertop and the strawberries from the refrigerator. She read through the recipe for strawberry chamomile tea. At the top of the recipe, Cecilia had written, For when you need to relax and rest. Surely she could make a batch of tea without causing world devastation. Tessa read over the ingredients. She needed strawberries, dried chamomile, honey, and lemons. She had everything, thanks to the Borellis, including dried chamomile from Cecilia’s garden.

  Tessa opened a cabinet and grabbed a mason jar full of the dried herb. She filled a pot with water and put it on the stove to boil. Once the water boiled, she dropped in a handful of clean strawberries. She tried to sprinkle the chamomile over the top of the strawberries, but the herb stuck to the sides of the jar. Tessa tapped the glass bottom and more than a quarter of the herb dislodged from the jar and fell into the water. Tessa winced. She hoped too much chamomile wouldn’t ruin the tea. She added honey and poured the mixture through a sieve and into a pitcher. Then she squeezed two lemons into the tea and added a pinch of salt. Tessa stirred the tea and sipped a bit from the spoon.

  She smiled. “It’s good.” First time ever.

  Tessa dropped in a few ice cubes to help cool down the tea before she found a spot for it in the refrigerator. Then she gathered the ingredients for the pancakes and put them on the kitchen countertop.

  Lily called a few minutes before she was supposed to arrive at the apartment and said two-year-old Rose had decided to smash spaghetti into Lily’s hair and she needed a quick shower. Tessa’s stomach growled. She could save Lily some time if she started cooking. After making tea, she felt brave and competent. If she could make tea, she could make pancakes, right?

  Tessa found the biggest bowl in the apartment for the batter. Then she tilted the strawberry carton and rolled the fruit onto a cutting board. No matter how hard she tried to cut the berries into uniform slices, the pieces were uneven.

  She found a measuring cup in a drawer and shoved it into the flour canister. Then she dumped flour into the bowl and followed that with baking powder. She dropped in two heaping tablespoons of salt, along with a dash of sugar. She gave the mixture a quick stir, and then she whisked the egg, milk, and vanilla in another bowl. After melting butter in the microwave, she poured the wet ingredients over the dry, added the butter, and stirred. The recipe said to fold in the cut strawberries. Tessa had no idea what folding meant, so she dropped in a few strawberries at a time and pushed batter over top of them. When she was finished, she stood back and smiled.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” she said, feeling accomplished.

  Tessa warmed a cast iron skillet on the stove. She speared a pat of butter on a fork and raced it around on the hot skillet. As the butter bubbled, it began to smoke, so Tessa went around and opened all the windows. A cool spring breeze eased through the apartment, ruffling book pages, and tickling the hairs on the back of Tessa’s neck.

  Using an ice cream scoop, she dropped three uneven blobs of pancake batter into the skillet. They sizzled and popped. As the batter heated, it slid toward the middle, creating one gigantic pancake. Tessa used a spatula to try and sever the batter into sections, but they reformed into one. When she thought it was ready to be flipped, she slid the spatula beneath one amorphous pancake and tried to turn it over. The underneath batter was too gooey, and batter flung all over the side of the skillet and over her shirt. She wiped the batter from her shirt with her fingers and popped her fingers into her mouth. The batter tasted odd, but Tessa assumed that was because the pancake wasn’t fully cooked.

  When she tried again to divide the pancake, she was successful. Three lopsided pancakes sizzled in the skillet. She made a pot of coffee and laid strips of bacon on a plate covered in paper towels and microwaved them. She poked the browned pancakes with her finger.

  “See, Lily, I can cook.”

  By the time the bacon was cooling, a stack of misshapen pancakes sat on a serving platter. Tessa grabbed syrup, butter, and the strawberry chamomile tea from the refrigerator and set the small table for two. At half past seven, Lily knocked. When Tessa opened the door, Lily inhaled and narrowed her eyes.

  “It smells like you’ve been cooking.” Lily stepped into the apartment and dropped her purse on the couch. “Is it safe to come in here?”

  “I made pancakes!” Tessa said, bouncing on her toes. “And bacon. And tea!”

  Lily walked to the table and eyed the stack. “All by yourself? Should I be frightened?”

  “I followed Mrs. Borelli’s recipes. I couldn’t possibly screw these up.”

  “Didn’t you say that about the meatloaf you made a couple of weeks ago?” Lily asked with a grin.

  Tessa frowned. “I didn’t know there was a limit to how many breadcrumbs you could add. It looked pretty when I was mixing it. But it was really dry.”

  “I almost choked on it. It lodged like a rock in my throat. And no one wants the Heimlich performed on her at a dinner party.” Lily sat at the table. “Dinner smells good. Let’s see how it tastes.”

  Tessa poured coffee into mugs and then filled two tall glasses with the tea. She forked a few pancakes onto Lily’s plate and then a couple onto her own. They smeared butter on the stacks and doused the pancakes in syrup. Tessa doled out bacon slices, and Lily lifted one and took a bite.

  She nodded and smiled. “This is good.” Then Lily cut into her pancake stack and stabbed the pieces with her fork. “Ready?”

  Tessa nodded, and they both shoved pancakes into their mouths. Once the taste of syrup melted away, Tessa’s first instinct was to spit the food back onto the plate. Her tongue shriveled in her mouth as all the moisture was leeched. She glanced across the table, and Lily’s blue eyes were large. They both chewed as quickly as possible and struggled to swallow. Tessa grabbed her glass of tea and gulped it down. Lily drank her tea even faster. Tessa’s eyes drooped slightly, and she blinked away the haze.

  “Why does it taste like I made them with sea water?” Tessa whined.

  “Too much salt for sure,” Lily said. “You followed the recipe?”

  “Yes,” Tessa said, snatching the recipe from the counter. “I added the flour and baking soda and—oh…”

  “Oh, what?” Lily asked. “Should I be calling the poison control hotline?”

  “I swapped the amount of salt with the amount of sugar.” She walked to the table and slumped into a chair. “Why am I such a disaster?”

  Lily chuckled and refilled her tea glass. “You’re not a disaster. Well, maybe only a little in the kitchen. The bacon is good, and the tea is great,” Lily said as she drank more tea. Then she yawned and covered her mouth.

  Tessa exhaled. “It’s been a crappy couple of days. My condo is trashed. I was attacked by vampire bats and threatened by a flea-infested cat. I smell-tasted urine and moldy carpet—” she waved her hand in the air when Lily’s eyebrows rose into her blonde curls, “—don’t ask. I had a bad conversation with Marty. And now, I’ve ruined dinner.”

  Lily wiped her mouth w
ith a napkin. “You know what will make it better?”

  Tessa glanced up at her, trying to keep her bottom lip from trembling. “What?”

  Lily pointed to the top of the refrigerator. “I see a box of Cap’n Crunch up there, and nothing makes a crappy day better than a big bowl or two of cereal.” She grabbed the cereal, bowls, spoons, napkins, and milk and motioned for Tessa to follow her into the living room. “Let’s watch something mindless on TV and eat cereal like we’re twelve.”

  “Soap operas?” Tessa asked, following her and then dropping onto the couch.

  Lily poured Tessa a heaping bowl of cereal, and a few Crunch Berries skittered across the coffee table. She reached out and popped them into her mouth. She passed Tessa the bowl and the milk before she prepped her own bowl. She settled into the couch and yawned again.

  “I must be sleepier than I thought.”

  Tessa dug her spoon into the cereal and made sure to cover each piece of cereal with a splash of milk. She spooned in a mouthful.

  Lily patted her cereal into her milk, making the berries bounce like beach balls in a pool. “Tell me you weren’t serious about smell-tasting urine,” she said.

  Tessa inhaled in an attempt to laugh, but she choked on her cereal and ended up coughing Cap’n Crunch all over her sweatpants. She stared down at her pants speckled with a rainbow of soggy Crunch Berries. Tessa felt a burst of emotion and rather than cry, she started laughing. Then Lily became tickled, and once they both started laughing, they couldn’t stop. She was a mess and practically homeless, but giggling with Lily eased the anxiety and sadness knotting in her chest.

  Three bowls of Cap’n Crunch and four reruns of the world’s most overdramatic soap opera later, Tessa slouched into the couch cushions and patted her stomach. “I’m stuffed, and the roof of my mouth is completely raw. I couldn’t eat another Crunch Berry even if I wanted to.”

  “I haven’t eaten this much cereal since that time in college when we stayed up all night trying to finish our English term papers,” Lily said, moving the empty cereal box to the coffee table. She pushed her tongue out through her lips and poked it a few times. “My tongue is definitely raw.”