Her eyes widened like she was surprised he’d offered to help. “Okay,” she said. “He and Ellie had a late doctor’s appointment with one of the boys. I’ll tell him when he gets back.”
“Great. And could you give him this? I’m headed out of town for a few days.” He held up the envelope in his hand. “It’s the bid on tearing the barn down.”
Avery’s mouth flattened. “You know, just because something’s old, doesn’t mean that it’s worthless.”
“I never said it was worthless.” He laid the envelope on the counter beside the pictures that she had spread out. “But, now that you mention it, it’s funny the way a woman’s mind always goes to the money. How much is it worth?” He shook his head. Avery had that captivating energy about her, but he wasn’t fooled. All women, with a few notable exceptions, his mother being one, needed money, and plenty of it, in order to be happy.
“You want to tear it down! With a small investment that barn could be making Fink and Ellie a nice, tidy sum.”
“It’s an eyesore and it needs to go.” And he needed the money for his mother. Even more so since just this morning as he’d been walking out, he’d noticed the pink foreclosure notice on his mother’s desk. His throat tightened and his forehead throbbed. Surely, they couldn’t foreclose just because the home equity line was six months behind? But he knew they could, and would. If only his mother had told him. It would have been tight, but he could have paid those payments with his regular salary. Or close to it. But now, with a lump sum needed to stop the proceedings, he really had no choice but to convince Fink to tear down that barn.
“It’s not an eyesore. It’s an historic building that deserves the dignity of being restored to its former grandeur.”
Her cat glared at him with evil yellow eyes.
He ignored it.
“It’s just an old bank barn that has seen better days. They cost more to maintain than they’re worth.”
“Sometimes you think things are old and worn out, but they just need the right person to come along and show them some love.”
“We’re talking about an inanimate object.” He shook his head. She acted like he suggested shooting her grandmother. It was a barn, for goodness’ sake. It shouldn’t matter to her if it got torn down or not. He opened his mouth to tell her just that, when the door opened, little Christmas bells jingling, and a couple strode in. After a Christmas tree probably.
He had thought, for a few moments, that maybe Avery was different. Exactly what his lonely heart wanted to think. He stuffed down something that felt a lot like disappointment and strode back toward the door, nodding to the couple who looked vaguely familiar.
He wouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to tear the barn down. To get Avery on his side, he should have pointed out how much money Fink and Ellie would make from the sale of the old boards and beams. Too late. And he didn’t care what she thought. Not much, anyway.
“Mrs. Franks’ son must be some kind of super-craftsman if he made these in high school.” Avery replaced another burnt out light in the wooden cutout of a skier doing a flip. It was the last in a seventeen-cut-out line, which started with the skier on his feet heading downhill.
“A super electrician too, since Mrs. Franks swears that these things work in perfect time.” Jillian Powell sat with one ankle behind her head as she untangled a string of blue lights for over the walkway arch. Mrs. Franks’ entire large front lot was stuffed with motion coordinated Christmas decorations her son had made for her before he graduated and left home. They had yet to turn everything on and confirm that it all worked together, but Mrs. Franks swore it would.
“I like Christmas just as much as the next person, but this seems a little excessive, even to me.” Jillian dropped her leg from behind her head and stood, bending down and throwing one leg up in the air in a perfect split as she gathered the lights from the ground.
“You can never have too many decorations.” Avery started up the ladder under the arch.
“At least not at Christmas. You can’t look at all this and not smile.”
“And that’s what Mrs. Franks needs. Cheered up. A reason to be happy.”
“It should make her happy that her son is back from out west.” After hooking the lights on the end of her shoe, Jillian did a slow handstand, lifting the lights up to Avery.
With anyone else, Avery might assume she was practicing a routine or maybe showing off. With Jillian… Avery had decided you could take the girl out of the circus, but you apparently could not take the circus out of the girl.
“Have you seen him?” Jillian asked, her voice sounding perfectly normal, despite the fact that she was upside down and holding herself up with her hands.
“Mrs. Franks said he’d left for a few days. Something about a project he promised to do.” As she spoke, she remembered Gator saying he was going out of town for a few days and Avery’s gaze fell on the G. Franks printed on the underside of the arch where she pinned the lights. The same G. Franks that was on all the decorations in the yard. Her hands stilled. “Has Mrs. Franks ever said what her son’s name is?”
“Nope.” Jillian dropped her feet to the ground as Avery took the last of the lights in hand. “She says ‘my son’ this and ‘my son’ that.”
“She only had one child. And I know she’s described him as compassionate, articulate…”
“Don’t forget sweet,” Jillian said. “And kind. She uses that word a lot.”
Avery bit her lip. It couldn’t be. Sweet, gentle Mrs. Franks could not be the mother of that huge, uncouth mountain man. “Didn’t she say he was married?”
In the process of lifting one of her feet behind her head, Jillian whipped her head around so fast she stumbled. She quickly tucked her head to her stomach and did a summersault. She landed on her back on the wet, cold ground and blinked up at Avery.
“I’m not sure. Separated maybe? Odd question coming from the all-men-leave-for-younger-prettier-women-so-why-bother person.”
Avery leaned against the steps of the ladder and looked down at Jillian. “See? He’s separated.” She ignored the part of her that eddied in disappointment. “He’s already left his wife for someone younger and prettier.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It’s a safe bet.”
“I disagree with you, but I’m also going to say we all have our little hang ups and that one’s yours. That and your cat. Where is it by the way?”
“I left Miss Prissypants at home. Ever since she jumped out of her carrier when I was setting up the farm display for the Christmas celebration next week, I’ve been afraid I’d lose her, so I’ve not been carrying her off the farm.”
“I’m telling you, she jumped out because she saw the dog catcher. Animals hate him.” Jillian had tucked her elbows in and folded her legs and feet in such a way as to form her body in a ball. She rocked back and forth. “You mark my words. There’s bones in his basement.”
Avery snorted, but didn’t argue. They’d already had this discussion. Ellie had said that McKoy Rodning was a genuine nice guy. A local fellow, well-liked in the community, and good at his job. But nothing anyone said would convince Jillian that he was anything but Jeffery Dahmer’s evil twin. Jeffery being the good twin, of course.
Avery gave a silent sigh. Some people were just not meant to get along. “At any rate, Miss Prissypants is too valuable to risk losing her.”
The screen door slapped as Avery stepped off the ladder. Mrs. Franks, bundled in a heavy coat, with a long scarf wrapped around her bare head and neck, stepped out onto the porch.
“I was about to come in and get you,” Avery called, folding the ladder and carrying it to the porch where she leaned it against the railing. “We’re ready for the initial lighting.”
“I’m giving you the honor of flipping the switch, Avery.”
“Are you sure? I thought you would want to.”
“No. Tradition demands that the person who does the most work setting up the displays gets to fl
ip the switch. Usually that’s been my son, but this year, it was definitely you—you’ve been working for days on this. It was sweet of Jillian to come help you today.”
A little bite of guilt pinched Avery. Jillian had manned the Christmas tree sales counter so she could spend extra time helping Mrs. Franks. She deserved to flip the switch.
Jillian waved her hands. “No. I’m good. I wouldn’t have had the patience to replace all the burnt out lights and read the diagrams about where each piece of the display went in the yard. I can tell by your face that you think you owe me, but the little bit of untangling I did here today makes me want to go bury my frustrations in cheese fries and a chocolate milkshake.”
“So, it’s up to you.” Mrs. Franks’ smile was warm and sincere. She could not be Gator’s mother. Not Gator of the woman-eating dogs.
Avery and Jillian stood at the switch with Mrs. Franks, whose expectant smile never faltered. Avery reached for the black knob and flicked it down with a snap. Immediately, the yard and surrounding acreage illuminated with brightly colored lights.
White lights and red ribbons had always been Avery’s favorite Christmas decorations, but she had to admit the work had been worth it. The smile on Mrs. Franks’ face rivaled the brightness of the decorations in her yard.
“It looks just like it did ten years ago when my son lit them for the last time,” Mrs. Franks said breathlessly. Her cool, dry hand slid into Avery’s. “Thank you so much.”
“It was fun,” Avery said and meant it.
“Both of you come inside for some hot cocoa. I have those pictures you asked for, too, Avery.” Mrs. Franks slid her fingers out and turned toward the door.
Jillian moved toward the steps. “I can’t. I promised Ellie I’d be back at the counter by dark to help with the crowds.”
“But you can stay for a few minutes?” Mrs. Franks turned to Avery.
“Sure. I’m excited about those pictures. I really wanted to come up with some old pictures of the farm to copy and frame for Fink and Ellie for Christmas.”
“I’ll see you guys later,” Jillian said as she walked on her hands down the porch stairs.
“Thanks for your help, honey,” Mrs. Franks called to her before she gripped Avery’s elbow and they turned and walked in the front door. Lights from the decorations in the yard twinkled in the glass. “I wish I could pay you.”
“If you would have paid us, it would have been work.” Avery patted Mrs. Franks’ hand. “I’m glad we could do it.”
Fifteen minutes later, they sat at the old oak table in Mrs. Franks’ cozy kitchen, steaming mugs of hot chocolate in front of each of them and old pictures from the seventies and eighties spread out on the scarred wood surface.
“This is the courthouse where it sat on State Street before the flood of ’72.”
“State Street? In Love? There aren’t any houses there. It’s a park.”
“That’s right. They were all washed away. The remnants of Hurricane Agnes.” She tapped the picture with a thin finger. “No one died. That’s why we decided it was okay to make a park. I think it was the next year or the one after that when they built the levy and started having the Christmas celebration there.”
“They’ve been having it for almost fifty years?”
“Yep. And every year it gets bigger.” She tapped a picture that was almost all white. “There’s the blizzard of ’93. Three feet of snow. That’s the school.”
“The school? The same building the kids use today?”
“Yep. It was only about twenty or thirty years old in that picture. You can’t tell because the snow was so deep. That was a March storm. The whole town was shut down for almost a week. Roads were closed. Nothing could get through, not even the milk truck. Farmers’ tanks overflowed, and they had to dump their milk down the drain.” She tapped another picture and Avery’s heart jumped. It was her barn. “There’s Fink and Ellie’s barn. Of course, at the time it belonged to Ellie’s first husband’s parents, Sam and Marge Bright.”
It wasn’t her barn. She knew that of course. She pushed aside the little ache in her heart and pointed to the picture. “They must have had the area where Harper’s small apartment is now, planted in Christmas trees. I can see about a foot of the tops of the trees through the snow.” Harper, Ellie’s daughter, was now married and living in Chile.
Mrs. Franks laughed. “I do believe you’re right.” She considered the picture for another moment. Avery noted that there were no missing boards on the sides of the barn as there were now. The old milkhouse still stood in the picture, although it was half-buried in snow. All that was left of it now was the cement foundation and two feet of stone walls.
“Oh, my.” Mrs. Franks fished a picture out of the pile and held it up slowly. “I haven’t seen this one in years.”
Something in Mrs. Franks’ tone caused Avery to look at her face. Her top lip was pulled between her teeth and her eyes glistened with moisture. Avery glanced back at the picture in her hand. It was in full color and looked newer than the ones they had been looking at. In the photo, the women’s hair was big, very big, with frizzy, permed curls. A few wore knee warmers. None of the men had sideburns or any facial hair. At least two older people wore timeless ugly Christmas sweaters. Lights glittered in the background, illuminating bales of straw…
“That’s the inside of the barn! It’s some kind of party that was held in Fink and Ellie’s barn!” Avery tried to be dignified, but she knew her smile was big and sloppy and probably made her look like a five year old who had just met Santa Claus.
“Yes. It was.” Mrs. Franks’ voice seemed dreamy. Avery wondered if she even realized that she had spoken. She stroked the edge of the picture, then gently pushed aside the pile of photos.
“Here,” she said, picking up a similar colored photo with a young couple standing, arms around each other, smiling at the camera. The man towered over the woman and her left hand lay on his chest possessively. A small diamond twinkled on her hand.
“I just saw that man,” Avery whispered. His dogs had tried to eat her.
“That was the night Jake asked me to marry him.” Her voice wobbled. “We look so happy.”
They did. Despite the fact that a very disturbing thought had taken root in her brain, Avery couldn’t look at the picture without smiling back at the couple. “You look like you’re in love.”
“We were. That was a magical night. What I wouldn’t do to go back and relive it.”
You can never go back, only forward. Avery thought of the old proverb, but didn’t voice it aloud. Mrs. Franks’ face had a healthy glow and a beautiful smile. Avery hadn’t ever seen her this happy and alive. It was like the memories that swirled through her head had brought out the life that the cancer had tried to smother.
“He was killed not long after that picture was taken.”
“You never married?”
“No.”
“But…”
“I know. My last name is Franks. I changed it after he died. After his son, my son, came to live with me.”
Avery blinked, trying to figure out the puzzle Mrs. Franks had presented.
Mrs. Franks gave a laugh. “I can see the wheels turning.” She tapped the picture. “It’s a long story, but Jake’s first wife left him and their small son for another woman. He hired me to watch his boy, and well…” She shrugged. “We fell in love.” Her gaze seemed to caress the picture again. “I raised her son as mine.”
“Don’t these memories make you sad?” Avery bit her tongue. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked that question. There were a hundred other questions wanting to tumble out her mouth, the biggest and most pressing one being about the man, her husband, in the picture, who looked exactly like…
“I supposed they should. But I’m not sad anymore. It’s been thirty years. Looking at those pictures, remembering that magical night…all those feelings come back. The newness of being in love and the happiness as I thought of our life together. The lights and friends and
fun…great food, good times and the fairy tale of Christmas. No, there’s no sadness. Maybe the faintest longing for what might have been.”
“I see.” Avery studied the grain of wood on the table, hesitating to ask the question that lay like a tremolo on her tongue. She took a breath. “What’s your son’s name?”
“I guess you haven’t met him, have you?” Mrs. Franks lifted her head and looked at Avery, her eyes still sparkling. “Gator. His name is Gator. And I’ll have to arrange for you two to meet. I think you’ll like him.”
No. Avery wanted Mrs. Franks to take an interest in life. She wanted to cheer her and take her mind off her sickness, but she didn’t want to spend any more time in Gator’s presence than absolutely necessary.
She struggled for diplomacy over the extreme rejection she wanted to issue. “That’s sweet, but I’ve actually already met him. And his dogs. They were…” Avery paused, trying to find a word that wouldn’t scare Mrs. Franks.
“Just the sweetest dogs you’ll ever meet,” Mrs. Franks finished for her. “I know. They were from the last litter that Grandpa ever bred. They mean the world to Gator, but they have to be getting up in years. He slept with them in high school and they went everywhere with him. They were the only thing he took with him when he married and moved west.”
Gator was married. Of course, he was. Not separated. Not divorced. Just every time she saw him he was alone except for the dogs. Now that she knew for sure he was married, she would absolutely put him out of her mind.
“They don’t have parties like that anymore.” Mrs. Franks was looking at the photo again, tracing the edge with her finger. “That barn gave the party character.”
“Yeah.” And they were going to tear it down. Gator was going to tear it down. Not that she could say that to Mrs. Franks. Although, she bet he wouldn’t destroy it if he knew how much it meant to his mother. Or maybe he still would. It wasn’t like Avery knew him or the way he thought or anything.
“I wonder if Fink and Ellie would consider hosting another party there?” Mrs. Franks mused aloud.
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