Memories from Acorn Hill

by Melody Carlson

  Chapter One

  Good grief, Jane!” Ethel Buckley exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. “You are covered in dirt.”

  Jane Howard peeled a sodden garden glove from one hand, then pushed a strand of dark hair from her eyes and sighed. “I've been mulching some fertilizer into the flower beds.” Jane peered up at the leaden gray sky. “Not that it's going to do much good if our weather doesn't cooperate a little.”

  “It's been a strange spring indeed,” said Ethel, who was Jane's aunt and neighbor.

  “It's hard to believe it's mid-May. It feels more like March to me.”

  “Yes, my joints have been aching. I hope it's not arthritis.” Ethel's tinted eyebrows arched, then she pointed a finger toward her niece's feet. “What on earth are you wearing?”

  Jane looked down at her bright orange rubber shoes. “Crocs. They're very popular.”

  “Well, I can't believe anyone would pay good money for those silly looking things.” She shook her head with firm disapproval. “They remind me of duck feet.”

  Jane held out a foot, pointing a toe upward. “I happen to like them.”

  “Tsk-tsk. It's bad enough you wear those overalls, but why do you want to walk around in duck feet?”

  Jane shrugged. “They're comfortable, Auntie.”

  “You are a strange girl, Jane Howard.”

  Jane had to control herself to keep from rolling her eyes. “I'm not exactly a girl, Auntie.”

  “You may be fifty years old, but I still think of you as a girl. And you're so pretty, Jane, such an attractive young woman… and to be out in public looking like… ” She held up her hands as if this was a hopeless case. “Like this.”

  “Working in the garden isn't exactly like being in public.” Jane studied Ethel for a moment, taking in her styled and sprayed Titian Dreams red hair, her carefully rouged cheeks and tinted lips, her neatly pressed burgundy wool jacket and knee-length tweed skirt, her faux alligator shoes and matching bag. It wasn't a look that Jane would choose for herself, but it suited her seventy-something aunt. And her aunt was right. Jane hadn't taken much care in her own appearance this morning. She had simply pulled her long, dark hair back in a ponytail and put on her gardening clothes. But one didn't usually dress up to spread fertilizer.

  Ethel gave her hair a pat. “I would think you'd want to play up your looks more, Jane.” She actually giggled in a coquettish way. “Goodness knows none of us is getting any younger, dear… and you just never know when Mr. Right might come ambling along. You might want to consider putting your best foot forward.”

  Jane stuck out a big orange Croc. “Here it is, Auntie.”

  “Just my point.”

  Jane forced a smile for her aunt's sake, then nodded toward the sky. “Those clouds are getting darker. Looks like the weatherman is going to be right about rain again today.”

  Ethel stood straighter, adjusted her purse and glanced upward. “Yes. And if I'm going to make it to town before it starts pouring, I'd better be on my way.”

  “Don't let me keep you.”

  Ethel frowned at her. “I do hope you plan on cleaning yourself up. I'd hate to imagine what your guests might think if they saw the inn's cook going around looking like a farmhand and walking like a duck.”

  “We won't be having any guests for… let's see, this is Wednesday… for a couple of days,” said Jane. “Not until Friday.”

  “More cancellations?”

  Jane nodded. She and her two older sisters, Louise Howard Smith and Alice Howard, owned and operated Grace Chapel Inn, which they had opened in their family home. The truth was Jane felt somewhat relieved for this lull at the bed-and-breakfast. Of course, at the same time, for her sisters' sakes, she wished they were booked right now. Normally, this was a busy time of year.

  “Poor Louise was beside herself when another couple called to cancel last night and the Chandlers went home two days early. It's just not very pleasant to take a vacation with the kind of weather we've been having lately. Everyone seems intent on finding signs of springtime elsewhere.”

  “Well, signs certainly haven't made an appearance here in Acorn Hill.” Ethel waved, finally continuing on her way down the sidewalk. “I'm off to town. See you later.”

  “You sure you want to go?” Jane called after her. “We might be having a deluge by the time you're ready to walk back.”

  “Don't worry,” she called cheerfully. “Lloyd will bring me home.”

  Jane tugged on her damp garden glove. Maybe her aunt really didn't mind getting stranded in town if the skies opened up again, and of course, rain would be a good excuse for Ethel to coerce her good friend Mayor Lloyd Tynan to drive her home, but Jane wanted to get her pansies potted before the next downpour. She hurried back to the garden area where two flats of multicolored flowers were waiting. Fortunately, pansies were hardy in this kind of unpredictable weather. It was the heat that could be their undoing.

  Jane picked up one of the heavy clay pots that she'd removed from the front of the inn earlier this morning and placed it on her potting table. After all these months of winterlike weather, she'd grown weary of ornamental cabbages. They were a welcome touch of color back in November when she'd first set them out, but it was mid-May and she was ready for something more cheerful. Yet, she'd been hesitant to plant anything else while it was still freezing at night. Just this week, the weatherman had said that this was the coldest May Pennsylvania had experienced in decades. It had snowed on Mother's Day and hailed just a few days ago. Farmers throughout their area were complaining that these unusual freezing temperatures were damaging crops. She glanced around her garden. Even with its freshly prepared soil, it still looked forlorn. In a way, she felt she had acted in faith by applying the fertilizer this morning.

  She emptied the partially frozen soil from the clay pot onto her compost pile, then refilled it with some fresh potting mix along with a scoop of the mulch, working the dirt until all was evenly distributed. It was not unlike combining the dry ingredients for a cake. Then she set the flat of pansies that she'd gotten from Craig Tracy's nursery a few weeks ago next to the pot. Craig, who also owned the town's floral shop, Wild Things, had assured her these hardy plants were probably safe to be outside. But Jane, worried about the unpredictable weather, had kept them in her potting shed. Still, she could see that they shared her longing for sunshine. One by one, she began tucking the pansies into the pot. Such pretty colors: purples, yellows, russets and blues. Pansies really did know how to put on happy faces despite the chill in the air.

  Jane thought she might learn a thing or two from these little blooms. She, too, could put on a sunny face. She didn't need to let her aunt's criticism about her appearance get to her. But the fact of the matter was Jane had been feeling dowdy lately. She wasn't sure if it was the result of this gloomy weather, or just a general weariness, or maybe it was something more. But she definitely had not felt like herself these past few weeks. Even Alice had mentioned it yesterday. Then to be chastised by her elderly aunt about her appearance… well, it had stung more than usual. And even that little bit about “Mr. Right ambling along” irritated Jane. Her singleness had rarely bothered her since her marriage fell apart a few years ago, but lately she'd been pestered by thoughts that being unmarried might be a permanent condition.

  Certainly, it was some comfort that both of her two older sisters were single as well. Louise, a widow, and Alice, never married, always seemed content with their state. It was only Ethel who carried on about Jane's need for romance. It didn't bother Jane that Ethel put so much focus on her relationship with Lloyd, but Jane felt it was unkind for her aunt to criticize her for being unmarried.

  She firmly pushed a yellow pansy plant into the already crowded pot, breaking off a fragile flower stem. She picked up the broken blossom and looked down at its sunny little face. With a sad sigh, she slipped the stem of the sacrificed bloom into the front pocket of her bib overalls, letting the head stick out. Then she carefully used her trowel to gently
loosen the soil as she rearranged the plant into a more comfortable position. No sense in taking her angst out on innocent flowers. Finally, she stepped back to admire her pot of pansies. It looked surprisingly cheerful—almost enough to convince her that spring really was around the corner.

  She set the finished pot back in the wheelbarrow and took up the second one. As she emptied the old dirt, she thought about her marriage. It wasn't something she normally thought much about—not because it had been so terribly unpleasant, at least not at first. She and Justin had their ups and downs, although toward the end it had mostly been downs. It was something of a relief when the marriage ended. Still, she didn't think she was bitter about the way things had gone with Justin. Really, she had no ill feelings toward him.

  Jane used her gloved hand to brush some loose soil off the surface of her potting table, deciding that these thoughts about her ex-husband were probably best swept aside as well. She started on her third pot. And, although the sky was growing darker now, her spirits were actually beginning to lift as a result of her hard work. If the weather wasn't going to cooperate with the season, then at least these flowerpots might help some. And when guests finally arrived, they would be cheerfully greeted by the work of her hands. Her plan was to put the pots in semiprotected places on the front porch just in case the frost didn't let up right away. She'd plant more annuals, and perhaps a few new perennials, along the front walk later.

  It was just beginning to sprinkle when she finally had all six pots loaded onto her wheelbarrow and was transporting them to the front yard. One by one, she hoisted them up the steps of the stately Victorian home and arranged them attractively around the front door. She was just settling the last flowerpot into place when she heard a car slowing in front of the inn. She stood and turned to see who it was, but the vehicle was unfamiliar to her. A pink Cadillac convertible with big tail fins that looked straight out of the fifties was parking in front of the inn, just past the front walk. Jane slowly went down the steps, hoping to sneak a glimpse at the driver of this rather unusual car. She spied a youngish-looking blonde woman peering up toward the bed-and-breakfast with a big smile on her face.

  “Hey there!” called the woman as she got out of the car and waved over the roof toward Jane. “Is this the hotel?”

  “Sort of,” Jane called back, pointing to the sign for Grace Chapel Inn the woman obviously missed. “It's a bed-and-breakfast.”

  The woman clapped her hands together like a little girl. “Oh, goody!”

  It was starting to rain harder, but still curious about this woman, Jane went closer to the car. “May I help you?” she asked, noticing that the car's custom license plate, reading Belle, was from the state of Georgia.

  “Do you work for the bed-and-breakfast?” asked the woman, her heavily made-up big blue eyes widening.

  “Uh, yes.”

  “I'm Belle Bannister,” said the woman with a distinctively Southern drawl.

  “Belle from Georgia,” said Jane, putting two and two together.

  “Why, yes!” Belle's finely arched eyebrows lifted with surprise. “That is exactly right. Just like everything else about this place.” A raindrop splattered right onto her pink cheek.

  “You mean everything but the weather,” said Jane with a wry smile.

  “Oh my.” Belle reached into her car, retrieving a shiny pink purse and a pink overnight bag. “A nice gal in town gave me directions here,” she said as she closed the car door. “Do y'all think I can get a room?”

  “I'm sure that you can,” said Jane, leading the pleasantly plump young woman up the front walk. “I'd offer to help with your bags, but I'm pretty dirty and—”

  “Oh, that's okay.” She hurried past Jane, trying to escape the raindrops and going so fast she seemed to totter in her pink high-heeled shoes. “I'll just take this little one inside for now and get the rest later when the rain stops.” She paused under the cover of the porch to peer up at Jane's family home. “My, what a pretty house. It's absolutely perfect.”

  “Go right in,” said Jane when they came to the door. “I'd go in with you, but I don't want to track mud inside. There's a bell on the desk—”

  “A bell for Belle,” giggled the woman as she opened the door. “Just perfect.”

  Jane stood there on the porch, watching as the front door closed behind this strange woman. She actually wished she could go inside and see Louise's reaction to their unexpected, chatty guest with a fondness for pink. Of course, a guest was a guest. And right now, they were running short of them. Besides, this Belle from Georgia seemed like an interesting person. She might even bring some color, albeit pink, into their cloudy gray world. Jane dashed down the porch steps. Grabbing the wheelbarrow, she pushed it through the rain, which was now coming down heavily. By the time she made it to the side door, she was thoroughly drenched. If Ethel could see her now.

  Once inside the inn's laundry room, she removed her garden gloves and muddy Crocs and set them in the sink to deal with later. Next she peeled off her soggy, dirty overalls, hung them on a wooden peg, then quickly pulled on a pair of black warm-up pants and slipped her bare feet into a pair of clogs. She did a quick washup and entered the house by way of the kitchen. The warmth of the cheerful kitchen hit her as soon as she entered. She tiptoed through the dining room, curious to see whether Belle had found Louise.

  “Oh, there you are again,” chirped Belle as Jane came around the corner from the dining room. “Louise just gave me a tour of the first floor.”

  Jane nodded. “I hope you liked it.”

  Belle pointed at Jane. “That's the gardener I was telling you about, Louise. She's the one who told me that you had a vacancy here.”

  Louise gave Jane a sly smile. “Uh, yes, that gardener happens to be my youngest sister, Jane.”

  Jane came forward and extended her hand. “I'm a little cleaner now.”

  Belle smiled warmly as they shook hands. She looked from Louise to Jane. “Well, I'll be. I never would've guessed you two were sisters.”

  Louise was fifteen years Jane's senior, and although she, like Jane, was tall and slender, her hair was silver and her manner and appearance were proper. In her blue-and-beige plaid skirt, pale blue cashmere sweater set and pearls, she looked very much a lady in comparison to Jane's casual attire.

  “And we have another sister,” said Louise. “Her name is Alice, and she works part-time as a nurse at the hospital.”

  “And y'all run this inn together?”

  “We do,” said Louise.

  “Well, that's just sweeter than sweet.”

  “What brings you to Acorn Hill?” asked Louise as Jane began to ascend the stairs.

  “A dream,” said Belle in a rather wistful voice.

  “Indeed?” Louise's tone had a slight note of skepticism in it, and she peered over the top of her reading glasses with a questioning expression.

  Jane paused on the stairs to listen to Belle's reply.

  “Yes,” said Belle, nodding with wide eyes. “God sent me a dream… to come here.”

  “You don't say?”

  “And here I am.”

  “Here you are,” said Louise, clearly puzzled.

  “Yes,” said Belle. “God sent me a dream. And through my dream, God showed me that I was to drive all the way up here, and that I was to relocate my business to your sweet little town, but that's not all.”

  “No?”

  “God also showed me, through my dream, that it was right here that I would meet the man that I am meant to marry.”

  “Truly?” asked Louise.

  “It must sound strange, I know,” said Belle, still perfectly serious. “But I know that it's for real. And so, here I am.”

  “Here you are,” said Louise for the second time.

  Chapter Two

  She said what?” Alice asked as Jane slid a muffin tin out of the oven. She set the blueberry muffins aside to cool, then turned back to look at her sister. Alice still wore her nurse's uniform as she s
at at the kitchen table, enjoying her afternoon cup of tea. Her hair, which was the shade of rusty driftwood, framed her face, and her expression as usual was sweet, although it was now laced with concern.

  “Belle said God showed her all this through a dream,” Jane said, and then she repeated the strange story about relocating and finding a husband.

  Alice chuckled as she refilled her teacup. “Hmm… I wonder who the lucky man might be.”

  “I've been going through my mental list of available men,” said Jane as she sat across from Alice. “I don't think it could be Kenneth,” she said, referring to Rev. Kenneth Thompson, the pastor of Grace Chapel.

  “You don't think our pastor is open to matrimony?” asked Alice as she put a modest dab of real butter on her blueberry muffin. The sisters had been watching their cholesterol, but Alice, sixty-two and fit, believed that a bit of butter wouldn't hurt.

  “I just don't think that Belle Bannister is Kenneth's type,” said Jane. The truth was that Jane felt protective of the pastor, who was her good friend and a widower.

  “There's Craig Tracy,” said Alice. “And Wilhelm Wood.”

  “And Jeff Beckett,” added Jane.

  “I thought you said Belle was youngish?”

  “Well, older men have been known to marry younger women. And, for that matter, the other way around.”

  “Yes, that's true. What about Joshua Bellwood? He's a nice young man.”

  Jane nodded. “A possibility, I suppose, but Belle Bellwood? That just doesn't sound right. Besides, I don't see Belle as a farm wife.” Then she listed off several other unmarried males of varying ages and occupations.

  “Goodness,” said Alice as Louise joined them in the kitchen. “I suppose I never thought of Acorn Hill as having such a broad selection of available men.”

  Jane chuckled. “Maybe our Belle came to the right place after all.”

  “Our Belle is completely worn out from driving,” said Louise as she poured herself a cup of tea. “Can you believe that she started out from Georgia yesterday, then drove almost nonstop to get here this morning?”