“Caleb is Caleb,” said Joan. “He goes around with a smile on his face, works all the time, and volunteers as a fireman every spare minute he has. Everybody in town loves him, and everybody wants him to find a nice girl and start a family.” She smiled at Lauren and sighed. “I just thought it might be you. I was hoping when he went to the city, it meant something had happened between you.”
Lauren turned away so Joan could not see her color rising in her face. “Well, it didn’t,” she quipped shortly. “Come on in, Joan, and I’ll show you what I’m doing.”
Lauren led the way into the house.
“Oh!” exclaimed Joan. “I’m impressed! You’ve been busy!”
It was true. In the three days she had been there, Lauren had ripped up the old linoleum floor. She had taken all the hardware off the cabinetry and stripped most of the old white paint off the woodwork.
“I’ve had to keep busy.” Lauren laughed, recovering her good humor. “And actually, it’s been fun. I’m going to restore the house to a 1930s farmhouse with arts and crafts and art deco touches. I know the house is actually older than that, built in the 1860s, but I like the twenties and thirties, style-wise, and I think it will fit the house.”
“This is very exciting. Even in this state of restoration, we stand a better chance for a sale. People like to see work being done.”
“I agree.” Lauren nodded. “Now come out here in the yard. I think I discovered where the old milk house was, or something. There’s a floor of flat stones in a corner of the yard. I’m going to clear away the weeds and make it into a patio.”
Lauren led Joan out into the yard. Late as it was in the season, the Shasta daisies and phlox were still blooming, as well as the mints, oregano, and coreopsis. There was also a clump of deep red, late-blooming daylilies at the corner of the house. Joan paused and gently touched the blossoms. In a voice gentler than her customary gossipy tone, she said to Lauren, “I did know your grandmother, you know. She loved daylilies, and there are many on this property that she bred herself. One of her most successful varieties were these here. A lot of people in town would ask her for small rhizomes to plant, so they’re all over town. She gave me some, too, and I love them. She used to enter them in the county fair. She always won.”
“I remember that she really liked the garden and her flowers,” said Lauren as she gazed at the large, purple-red bloom. “I remember going to the fair with her a couple of times, but if we were living far away at the time, I’d be in school and we wouldn’t see her again until summer vacation.”
Joan looked up at Lauren. “You should enter these in the fair. It’s early in September. Starts Labor Day Weekend and goes for four days. The plants will still be blooming, and they’re just as beautiful as they were when your grandmother was alive.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I’m not much for county fairs.”
“Now, that’s just silly!” exclaimed the Realtor. “Everybody loves the fair! And we could use it as a selling point. ‘Prize winning garden.’ That would be different!”
Lauren knew it was futile to argue with Joan Halloran. Instead she said, “I’ll do it if you help me enter them.”
“Yes, I will! I’ll pick you up an entry form today at the town office. You will have such a good time. Really, it’s fun. The fair grounds are down on the main road between us and Windsor, right on the county line. It’s one of the last real fairs in the state with livestock, vegetables, quilting, and a midway. It’s the real deal. Fireworks. And entertainment. Last year, we had Keith Urban.”
“Really! Why would Keith Urban come here?”
Joan looked at her seriously for a moment and said, “Sooner or later, everybody who is anybody at all comes here.”
Chapter Ten
August gave way to September, and the weather cooled. Lauren began to truly enjoy her projects in the house. Each project required research, planning, the acquisition of materials, and lots of time. The rigorous schedule kept her grounded and seemed to sooth the anxiety and hurt that had occupied much of her thoughts since she’d terminated her engagement. She still thought about Caleb. After all, she was staying in the house where they had consummated their desire. When driving into town for groceries or materials, she couldn’t help but look around for his truck, or try to catch sight of him perhaps coming or going from McTavish’s. She had seen the fuel trucks on their rounds through town, and the plumbing vans, but he had not been behind the wheel. Her stomach knotted up when she remembered that, as the cool weather approached, she would have to call Cochran Plumbing and Heating for a fuel delivery. Well, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.
The painters were nearly done with the outside. Lauren bought new shutters — real wooden shutters — and painted them a deep, forest green. She also had the picket fence replaced and was appalled at the cost, but the fence showed the house and garden off to perfection, so it was well worth the expense. She did every project she could manage herself. For some of the heavy yard work, she found it necessary to hire a local landscaping company, but she kept the friendly boy with the lawn mower coming every week or so to keep everything looking neat and trimmed.
Inside, Lauren managed quite well. The table was stacked with do-it-yourself homeowner’s books on tiling, woodworking, and retro-style design. She found a huge old high-backed double-porcelain sink in the woodshed, ripped out the old stainless steel sink, and had it installed in the kitchen. She splurged on the faucet and was satisfied with the results. She had kept the kitchen island from her Murray Hill apartment and found that it fit nicely into this kitchen as well. It gave extra work space and didn’t interfere with the table. Lauren kept the old white enameled table, decorated with painted cherries. She remembered it from when she was a little girl, and it was really in very good condition. A varied collection of four chairs surrounded it, none of them matching. Lauren painted them all a deep red which tied them together and set off the table to perfection.
She was polishing the chrome on the old black wood-burning cookstove one afternoon when Joan knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she called, drawing her head out of the oven to see who it was.
“Your grandmother used to bake the most wonderful beans and bread in that stove. And you wait until winter. You can fire up that stove, and it’ll heat this whole downstairs. Do you have wood for winter yet? And don’t forget, you need to have the chimneys cleaned. In these old houses, a crack in the flue can mean a house fire. Well, maybe we won’t have to worry about the wood if we sell it by winter, but do get the chimneys cleaned and checked. Actually, I’ve got two parties to see it. One couple wants to come tomorrow. Is that all right with you?”
Lauren continued to polish the chrome, letting Joan babble on. “Oh, yes,” she said. “Just make sure you let them know I’m working in here.”
“I think that will just add to the appeal,” Joan replied.
True to her word, Joan brought prospective buyers through over the next two days. The first couple was middle-aged and wandered around looking at the ceilings and muttering about which walls they would take out. Lauren didn’t like them or the thought of them being in the house. The second showing was a young couple with two children who found the house in too much of a state of construction for their purposes.
“Don’t despair, dear,” said Joan after she had seen the young couple out the door. “We’ll find someone.”
Lauren was not despairing. She was enjoying her time in the house. She made occasional trips into town for groceries, but for the most part, she stuck to the business of restoration. Being trained as a museum curator, she was no stranger to hands-on work, and even the contractors were impressed with the results of her efforts. The constant work was therapeutic. During the day, there were always workmen of some kind on the premises, hammering and sawing or painting. They kept her from feeling too alone with their congenial conversations and their off-color jokes. It was the end of the day that was hardest for Lauren. When the workmen packe
d up and left each day at around four o’clock and she suddenly found herself alone, she always went through a period of worry and sadness. She talked to Kelly every day to bolster her confidence, but try as she might, she could not see what the future held.
Often, she sat on the top step of the old porch and sipped a beer, trying not to think of tomorrow, trying just to focus on the progress that had been made that day. Usually she was tired enough at the end of the day that she slept well, relatively uninterrupted by shadowy dreams of what might have been.
By the week of the fair, Lauren had finished tiling the kitchen floor. It had been a massive project. She cut black tile diamonds herself with a rented tile cutter and fit them between large, white squares. Even with rubber gloves, she had nearly taken the skin off her fingers, but the results were dramatic. Joan said so when she came to collect the daylilies for the competition of garden flowers at the fair.
“Why, Lauren! I am so amazed at you! You should go into the business! This is just beautiful. Black and white tile in this diamond pattern. How arresting, but subtle at the same time. Very, very well done.”
Lauren smiled her thanks. She thought so, too. They went out to the garden to cut the blooms. The stems had to be eighteen inches long, in a sturdy vase, and the bloom ready to open the next morning. They cut three specimens. Joan was excited. “This is terrific! Wouldn’t that be the best tribute to your grandmother? We’ll call this lily the Kate Hamilton, after her. Is that all right with you?”
Lauren was surprised at her own enthusiasm. “Oh, yes,” she exclaimed. “Joan, do you really think I might win a prize?”
“I do. I do indeed!”
That night when she called Kelly, Lauren told her about entering the daylilies. “Why don’t you come up?” she said. “Wouldn’t it be just a hoot to go to a real county fair? It would be like that old musical, State Fair! Honest, I’m not kidding. They have pigs and cows and everything. Tomorrow’s Saturday. It’s the day they judge the flowers. You can stay overnight and go back on Sunday after brunch. Wait till you see what I’ve done to the place!”
“Which,” answered her friend, “will be difficult because we don’t know what it looked like to begin with. However, you’re right. A trip to a county fair would be fun. As long as they have cotton candy, we’ll come.”
“I’m sure they’ll have cotton candy.”
“Then we will see you tomorrow morning.”
Lauren was excited to have her friends visiting. It grounded her, somehow. She made up the little room under the eaves where she and Caleb had spent that fantasy night together. There was a puffy duvet on the bed, a vase of fresh flowers on the bureau, as well as clean fluffy towels. The window was open, and the room smelled of sunshine. Kelly would adore it.
Since her arrival, Lauren had been sleeping in the bigger bedroom on the western side of the house. It had been her grandmother’s room, and Lauren found this particularly comforting. She had made the bed up with a cream and peach duvet and matching shams. On a trip to a local furniture store, she had happened across a painted bureau with a matching mirror. It was pale green, with depictions of wheat sheaves and birds painted in ecru, brown, and white. Lauren bought the pieces on the spot. They fit the room exactly, lending it a certain sophistication. To round out the feel, Lauren painted the old maple four-poster a matching green and copied the bird motif on the head and foot boards. The peachy color of the bed linens and the white lace curtains blended with the green and made the whole room restful and serene. Lauren thought when she started on the bedrooms, she would paper this room and add a rug or two. She set her vanity up in front of one of the two big windows. Each morning when she put on her make-up, she could look out across the wide back lawn and the rise of the green mountains behind it.
Kelly and Brian turned into Lauren’s driveway at about two in the afternoon. The sky was bright blue, and there was the first invigorating little nip of fall in the air. Lauren ran out and embraced them both. Her emotions at seeing her friends surprised her as her eyes welled with tears.
“I’m so happy to see you!” she admitted. “I’ve been so busy, I guess I really didn’t realize how lonely I’d been. Come on in. I’ll show you my plans for the house, and you can take your things up to your room.”
Kelly looked around. “It is lovely, Lauren,” she said honestly, dropping her usual sarcastic edge. “I’m surprised you haven’t sold it yet.”
“I’m expecting an offer from a couple next week,” she responded. “I didn’t really like them, though. They kept talking about taking out walls.”
“What a classic old porch!” said Brian, going up the steps. “Where’s the lemonade?”
Lauren laughed. “I’ve got some in the refrigerator!” she answered, opening the screen door and ushering them into the house.
Kelly stood in the center hall and looked around. “It’s much bigger than I thought.”
“Four bedrooms,” said Lauren.
“Hmm, plenty big for a family.”
“Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Lauren toured them around the house, explaining her plans for the renovation. The kitchen was the last stop. Kelly absently picked up one of the magazines while still taking in the room. “This is really beautiful, Lauren,” she said. “You’ve done a wonderful job. You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”
“I am,” admitted Lauren. “I almost don’t want to sell it before I complete it. I want to see all my plans come to fruition.”
“Don’t we all,” muttered Kelly.
“I know I’ve got to get back to the city,” Lauren said with a sigh. “I’ve sent out a few resumes. Haven’t heard back yet, though.”
“It’s a hard time to be trying to find a job,” Brian said, “but with your qualifications, you should be able to find something before too long.”
Kelly looked at Lauren. “You haven’t seen Caleb, have you?”
Lauren gave a brave little smile. “No, Kelly. I’m afraid your Lauren-and-Caleb reunion plan is not going to happen. It’s okay, though. I’m doing okay. I really am. I know I’ll get a job offer soon, and then it’s back to the city. Hopefully I can sell the house before that.”
“I don’t have any Lauren-and-Caleb reunion plan!” Kelly snorted indignantly.
Brian gave a little cough and changed the subject. “Let’s go to the fair!” he said in a rousing voice. “I haven’t been to any kind of fair since I was about twelve years old.”
They piled into Brian’s car and set off down the road.
The fair grounds were on a flat hilltop conveniently located where the three southern most counties in the state bordered one another. It was a traditional fair grounds, with a race track that was adaptable to either horses or cars, a grandstand, long rows of red painted livestock barns, a covered events building, a livestock show ring, and an exhibition barn. There was also a two-story round house where all the domestic competitions like cooking, gardening, preserving, quilting, sewing, and other handcrafting took place. The midway with its food vendors, games, and rides took up the wide center portion of the grounds.
Brian followed the directions of a scrawny, flag-waving little man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and parked the car.
“Where shall we start?” asked Kelly as she got out of the car.
“Let’s get something to eat,” said Brian eagerly. “I never get a chance to eat real fair food.”
“That’s probably a good thing,” remarked Lauren, starting toward the midway. The three of them stopped at the American Legion tent, which looked relatively clean and smelled delicious. Brian ordered a huge sausage in a bun smothered in chili and sauerkraut. He proceeded to dump mustard on top of that, ordered a beer, and took a seat at one of the old picnic tables which sat under a forest of large sun umbrellas. He began to eat without waiting for Lauren and Kelly.
“Well, there’s a gentleman for you!” Kelly scolded. She ordered her beer along with a large hotdog and some fried dou
gh.
Lauren stepped up to the Plexiglas window and said to the little gray-haired woman behind the food counter, “I’ll have a beer, please, and a small sausage grinder with onions and peppers.”
“Coming right up,” the older woman replied. Then she peered at Lauren from over the top of her glasses. “Are you that girl who’s moved into Kate Hamilton’s house?”
“Why, yes. Actually, I’m her granddaughter, and I’m getting it ready to sell.”
“Well, welcome to town, honey. My son’s one of the painters who’s been working on your house. Michael Thurston.”
“Oh, ah, yes,” said Lauren. The truth was she didn’t know any of them by name. “Thank you.” She took her food and joined her friends at the table.
“Looks like everybody knows you already. And your business.” Kelly laughed as she bit into her hotdog.
“That’s a small town for you,” said Lauren.
After they ate, they meandered along the midway. Brian took a couple of shots at a game but won nothing. They visited the poultry barn and the rabbits, went to see part of the horse show, and walked through the livestock barns where they saw children dressed in white shirts and jeans brushing and washing placid cows, pigs, goats, and sheep, getting ready for their various competitions.
“Well,” said Brian, “how about your flowers? Where are they? When can we find out whether you’ve won or not?”
“I think they’re in the round house,” said Lauren. “Joan, my real estate agent, entered them for me. Let’s go see what the judges thought.”
They walked into the round house. There were exhibits of prize winning pies, cookies, and cakes as well as competitions for various vegetables. Preserves were next. The judges were sampling jars of blueberries when Lauren passed them. At last they came to the flowers. There were many different varieties, but Lauren managed to pick out her dark red daylilies at the back of the display. Lying on the counter top next to the vase was a blue ribbon. First place.
Small Town Girl Page 17