by Nancy Naigle
* * *
THE NEXT MORNING, Liz cleared out the few things she had at the apartment and left the key under the mat with a thank-you card for Dottie and George. They’d been such a lifesaver. It would have been miserable burning up the road between here and Charlotte all week long.
She drove up the mountain to Angel’s Rest feeling like it was the first day of a whole new life. She was surprised when she pulled into the driveway. It was incredible how much difference even just a day made.
The dumpster had been taken away, and now she could drive back to the cabin. She parked, got out, and grabbed as many bags as she could handle. She was relieved to see that Matt had laid a solid wooden door that had seen better days over the trench as a makeshift bridge so she didn’t have to hop over the trench with her hands full.
It took four trips to get everything inside. Unfortunately, the clean cabin was now a mess again, filled with boxes and bags full of stuff lined up against the wall out of the path the folks from the antique shop would need to bring in her furniture.
She found the bag from the grocery store and emptied the contents of the dog biscuit box into a clear glass jar she could leave on the counter for when Elvis came.
No sooner had she put the lid on the jar, there was Matt’s familiar knock at the door.
“Matt? Come on in.”
He swung the door open and stepped inside. Elvis pushed past him and ran up to Liz. She loved on him, then went to the cookie jar, and tossed one in the air for him. He snapped it out of the air. “You do tricks.” She applauded. “Did you know that?”
“I did.”
“Well, how about that, you smart boy.” She rubbed his ears, then went back to putting away the cleaning supplies and paper goods she’d picked up.
She took a heater out of its box and handed it to him. “Can you plug that in over in the front of the room? It says it’ll heat a hundred and fifty square feet, so I bought one for each room. Once we get the central heat and air fixed, I can just use these for backup.”
Matt unwound the power cord and plugged it into the wall closest to the door.
She plugged another one in in the kitchen. “I guess this will test the circuit breakers.”
Both heaters started whirring. Matt held his hands in front of the unit he’d just plugged in. “It’s putting out some good heat.”
She did the same. “You’re right. I might get run out of here. At least they have thermostats on them. It should keep things comfortable.”
A truck rumbled outside. “That must be my furniture.” She jumped over a box and ran outside.
Four young men, maybe not even out of high school, were lined up at the door with the bed frame. “Come on in, guys.”
Matt slipped out while they moved in her furniture. She dug in her purse for tip money. It was the least she could do. She had no idea what Flossie was paying them, but they’d shown up on time and that was worth something.
The guys put the bed together, and it wasn’t thirty minutes after they left that the truck with the refrigerator, mattress, and box spring showed up.
The new refrigerator fit perfectly. She’d measured carefully, but the cabinets were years and years older than standard appliances were built for now and finding the biggest refrigerator for the space hadn’t been easy. She’d gone back and forth on what color to get, too. She was glad she’d gone with the white, because it also brightened that whole corner of the kitchen up. With so much wood in the cabin, any reflective areas were a bonus.
As she watched the delivery truck head out, she noticed Matt and his crew beginning to pack up too. Matt waved from the house.
She waved back.
He walked toward her with Elvis. When he got within earshot, he said, “We’re getting ready to head out for the day. Are you sure you’re comfortable staying here tonight?”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
“Call me if there are any problems. You know I’m just up the road. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
“I won’t need you. I’m a big girl.”
Elvis walked past her and plopped down in front of the heater in the living room.
“Someone is making himself at home.” Matt looked embarrassed. “Elvis. Get out here.”
Elvis didn’t even lift his head.
Matt slapped his hand against his thigh and whistled in an attempt to get the dog moving, with no luck. “They’re calling for snow again tonight.”
“They call for snow every day around here. Haven’t had much yet.” She walked over and wrapped her hands around Elvis’s soft muzzle. “Your daddy’s going to get jealous if you keep playing favorites.”
Matt shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Go on, Elvis. Time to go with your daddy.” She snapped her fingers, and the dog slowly got to his feet and headed for the door. “I’ll see y’all in church, or Monday morning.”
Matt lifted his hand to his ear.
“I know. I’ll call if I need you. Don’t worry. You’re like an old woman.” She was complaining, but she did appreciate his concern.
Once Matt’s truck turned onto the main road, she closed the door and locked it behind her.
She had everything she needed right here. She rummaged through the bags until she found the one with the new sheets. Robin’s-egg blue. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a winter color, but when she’d seen them she immediately thought of snowflakes and icy blue skies on a snowy day. And Matt’s eyes. It seemed perfect, and now that she was fluffing the fitted sheet to tuck it beneath the mattress, she realized it was even prettier against the deep wood tones of the timbers and contrasting chinking of the cabin than she’d imagined. Stunning, really.
She made the bed, hospital corners and all just as Gram had taught her all those years ago, then layered a thin cotton blanket, followed by the quilt she’d bought from Flossie. The bed looked fresh and inviting, and cozy enough for any season.
Knowing that a staged house sold much quicker than a lived-in one, she hadn’t hesitated one moment in raiding her own favorite things to bring with her. She hadn’t been sure where she’d use them, but removing a few lamps and a few special pictures and decoratives had made her house in Charlotte look even neater and hopefully would make this one feel homier.
She looked over the lamps she’d brought with her and settled on a tall colonial-style lamp for the bedside table. She’d be able to read until she was sleepy. No television meant no problem as far as she was concerned—she had some movies saved on her computer if she got bored.
Propping up the pillows on the bed, she folded back the blanket and quilt for later.
Liz walked to the door, then turned around. The ornate footboard brought an elegant balance to things without looking too feminine. If she were checking into an inn and staying in this room tonight, she’d be quite pleased.
An hour later she’d hung pictures in the bedroom and set up a plant stand under the southern-facing window, where her favorite violets could thrive.
All the furniture arranging combined with those little heaters had warmed the tiny cabin enough that she was glad she hadn’t gone ahead and tried to make a fire. It would have toasted her out of the place. Once she turned down the thermostat on the heaters, it was so quiet that all she could hear was her own heartbeat in her ears.
She wasn’t used to that, but she liked it.
She grabbed her jacket and walked outside. The sickle moon from the other night was a no-show, leaving only the brilliance of a new moon and a million vibrant stars. It seemed like the perfect night to spot a shooting star. “Gram, I love this place. I haven’t seen this many stars since the last time I was here with you and Pop.”
A shooting star crossed the sky, as if they were smiling upon her. “I love you too.”
That was all the reassurance she needed to go back inside and know that she was going to have a good night’s sleep.
She changed into a new pair of pajamas—a black long-sleeved top, and black yoga-style pants wi
th tiny golden polka dots—then crawled between the sheets, suddenly feeling weary from the busy day. She didn’t even bother trying to read, instead switching off the bedside lamp. The only light was a soft glow from the stained-glass night-light that she’d bought this morning on a whim.
Liz set her phone alarm to eight o’clock. If she slept in that late on Sunday, it would be the first time in years, but she didn’t want to risk sleeping the day away either.
She snuggled down under the covers and then reached up and turned off the alarm on her phone. She wasn’t on anyone’s schedule all weekend but her own. Sunday was supposed to be a day of rest. Maybe it was time she figured out her own body clock.
Back under the crisp linens, she was hit by the scent of warm snickerdoodles and bacon, even though nothing had been cooked in this cabin in years. It was just like Gram tucking her in and placing a soft whisper of a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open in the darkness. She knew it was her imagination, but it felt real in a very comforting way.
Her body relaxed and she fell asleep in her cabin beneath the beautiful Appalachian stars.
Chapter Twenty
A rapid rat-a-tat-tat at the door woke Liz. She jolted out of bed a little confused. Who could be here?
She raced to the door. After catching her toe on the corner of the new chest in the living room, she hopped the rest of the way to the door, grimacing as she swung it open.
“Hi.”
Two short round women stood side-by-side, grinning. They looked alike except for the color of their coats. The woman holding an old-school cornflower Pyrex casserole dish wore a forest-green coat, and the other clung to a huge plastic bowl the same color as her blue jacket. “Welcome!” they sang out.
The blue-coated woman paled. “Oh goodness. We’ve woken you.” Panic in her eyes, she swung her gaze toward the other lady. “I told you it was too early.”
Liz raised her hands. “No. It’s fine.”
“Are you sick?”
“No. I’m just getting settled in. I’m … uh…” Liz wasn’t sure what exactly the right answer was in this circumstance.
The woman wearing green offered a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’re beat with starting to get things moved up here and all. I’m Joe Don’s momma. He told me all about you and your plans to bring beautiful Angel’s Rest back to life again.”
“Hello,” Liz said. How that tiny little woman ended up with a boy the size of Joe Don was anybody’s wonder. Her husband must be a mountain of a man.
“Her name is Donna Beth, and I’m her sister Sonja, but everyone calls me Sonny. We brought you a little something for while you’re getting settled in. I made you my famous chicken and biscuit cobbler.”
Liz liked the sound of that. “Thank you.” She accepted the casserole dish from Sonny. “Please come in.” She shuffled back from the door and they stepped inside. “This sounds amazing.”
“Oh it is,” Donna Beth assured her. “Sonny makes the best chicken and biscuit cobbler around. Her biscuits are second to none.”
“Thanks, sis.” Sonny blushed.
Donna Beth made herself at home, walking right past Liz to put a bowl of beans on the counter. “I hope this will feel like a little taste of home for you, Liz. Pinto beans the way your grandma made ’em famous when she ran the inn. Not just fatback, but extra garlic and some jalapeños to give them a kick.”
Liz couldn’t believe it. “You didn’t!”
“Yes I did.”
“I’m not even sure I have that recipe.”
“We’ll get together and I’ll teach you then,” the woman assured her. “This was one of those recipes that made eating up here a special treat. I sure miss Josie.”
“Me too,” Liz said. “This is unexpected. Thank you so much. I’d ask you to sit, but as you can see I haven’t gotten that far yet. All I have is the trunk and the stools at the bar in the kitchen and they still need another good scrubbing. Can I offer you a cup of coffee? I do have coffee and cups.”
“No, thank you.” Donna Beth nudged Sonny. “We’re not going to stay. We just wanted to let you know how happy we are that you bought this place. That art gallery was never welcome in this town. That’s why they closed down, you know.”
“That’s not entirely true.” Sonny elbowed Donna Beth.
“It is,” Donna Beth said. “Ain’t nothing going to survive in this town if we don’t get behind it. You know that’s true, Sonny.”
A little jolt went through Liz.
“They were their own worst enemy,” Sonny said. “They didn’t really care about this town or being a part of it. It all worked out for the best. Even though it sure did take a long time. We’re so glad you’re here to put it back to right again.”
Why had she just assumed she’d be welcomed back? It had never occurred to her that she might not be. Thank goodness she seemed to be starting off on the right foot. A happy accident indeed.
“You and me both,” Liz said. “Would you mind if I get your phone number and addresses so I can be sure to get your dishes back to you?”
“We taped them to the bottom,” Donna Beth said. “You can just bring them to church on any Sunday morning if that’s easier. No hurry.”
Liz picked up on the unsubtle recommendation. Or maybe they were just probing to see if she was a Christian girl.
“That’s a very good point.” Liz followed as the two ladies let themselves out the door. “Thank you again. I know I’ll enjoy all of it.”
“You take care now.” The two sisters crossed the makeshift door bridge over the trench.
Liz watched them trek through a light layer of frost toward their car, looking like a couple of Christmas elves in their blue and green matching coats.
The aroma of the two dishes already filled the room. Her stomach growled.
She popped a butter toffee–flavored coffee pod in the coffeemaker and stood there still smiling from the thoughtful visit until the coffeepot gurgled. It took only a couple of big swallows for her to finally wake up. She opened up the goodies Sonny and Donna Beth had left for her. A quick bite from each had her remembering Grandma’s cooking. “Mmm. Good stuff.”
With her coffee in hand, she dragged one of the boxes from the front corner of the room and slid it under the light. The tape had lost most of its sticky and came right off. She pulled out the newspaper-wrapped contents one at a time. Carefully she unwrapped a cobalt-blue bud vase. The paper was an old copy of the Antler Creek Chronicle. She recognized the hardware store in one of the ads. The candle factory had been set to open the following year. It might be fun to decoupage something with some of these headlines. Rather than wad the paper, she smoothed the sheets and stacked them as she went through the boxes.
A lot of the items were just small knickknacks that could be sold down at Flossie’s, or donated to a church rummage sale. She unwrapped the next piece and sat back on her heels. She remembered the angel. Gram had used it as a table decoration, but the cone-shaped bottom made it easy to use as a tree topper. The angel was every bit of fourteen inches tall, and her clothes were still in good shape too.
Liz tugged on the fabric gown, straightening it.
The angel’s shiny blond hair hung straight. Liz could picture this angel sitting at the edge of the big wooden chopping block, reigning over Gram’s baked goods. Liz got up and carried the angel to her kitchen island. Until she had a butcher block of her own in the main house, this angel could live right here.
The sound from a diesel engine with some serious exhaust issues sent her rushing over to the window to see who was here. It didn’t sound like Matt’s truck.
She pulled back the curtain and peered through the slats of the blinds. A big four-wheel-drive pickup truck painted in camouflage rumbled right up the driveway toward the cabin. Only a local would even remember there’d been a roadbed that led back here at one time.
A big man in coveralls got out of the truck.
She grabbed her coat and tied the belt around h
er waist, then walked out to see what he wanted. “Hello?” She might consider buying a gun. There were crazies everywhere in the world. Walking out like this might not have been the smartest move.
“Hey there. Was hoping you were home.” His grand smile made his cheeks look rosy and red. “George and I used to hunt with your grandpa.”
A friend of George and Dottie’s. She relaxed a little.
The huge man had a well-trimmed beard that was graying and the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. “Really? That’s neat.”
“He was a good man. Fishing, hunting, that man could do anything and was happy to share his love of our outdoors here in the mountains with anyone who would give him the chance to share it.”
“I agree. I spent my summers up here fly-fishing with him.” She’d never gone hunting with him, though. Taking a deadly shot at Bambi didn’t seem fun at all. And sitting out in the cold for hours just to look at a deer wasn’t a good alternative. Besides, if you sat on the back porch at dusk you were almost always treated to a glimpse of a family of deer cutting through the property on the way down to the stream.
I haven’t thought of that in years. I’ve got to make a point to sit quietly out here at dusk. I bet there are still deer crossing this land every evening.
“Brought ya something to welcome you, and wish you good luck with this place.”
“Thank you.” How many casseroles could a girl eat? Good thing she’d ordered the big refrigerator.
He opened the back door to the crew cab, and his body half disappeared into the truck for a minute. Then he stepped out from behind the open door, and what to her wondering eyes did appear but the front half of a big old twelve-point deer mounted to a slab of wood the size of a good snow sled.
“Oh my?” escaped from her lips before she could hold it back.
“I know,” he said proudly. “It’s a nice one. Hard to part with, but it’s the first twelve-pointer George ever shot. He’s been keeping it at my place. We shot this on a trip with your grandfather. It belongs here at the inn.”
“Thank you.” “I couldn’t” was what I should’ve said, because what the heck am I supposed to do with this thing?