Angela giggled and scratched behind his ears. “You sure learned a lesson here. You just tell us what you think, okay?”
“He probably will. We have two extremely verbal animals here.” Lynn half shrugged and her hand automatically did as Miss Minerva fully expected. The purr motor did not start until the petting did.
Judith just shook her head and went on into the house.
So here Judith was, a bit less than forty-eight hours after she arrived back in Barnett Lake, prowling a hardware store again. This was apparently going to be a major feature of her new life. Not that she was a stranger to hardware stores, but mostly in the past she had scoured vintage hardware stores seeking replacements for small broken pieces in Rutherford House. This farm hardware store was hardware writ large.
Riding lawn mowers and three-gang garden tillers had taken over the front of the store. And so many grills. Simple ones, elaborate ones, gas grills, charcoal grills.
And a chicken coop.
Judith stopped cold, transfixed. Lynn continued to the plumbing aisles without her. A chicken coop. Skids beneath it to keep it above the dirt. She raised the door latch and opened it halfway. It did not swing out or swing shut. Well-hung. She stepped inside. Head high if you scrunched down, with nest boxes, roosts, and a smooth composite floor. Two vents. An actual ceiling fixture, not just a naked lightbulb hanging there. This was not a coop; it was a chicken mansion.
She went back out and latched the door.
A saleswoman in the store’s cargo vest smiled at her. “You seem interested. We have a special on these. This week only, the coop comes with a waterer, that feeder trough, and enough poultry netting to enclose a six-by-eight-foot yard.”
“You deliver?”
“Anywhere within the county, twenty-five dollars.”
Judith didn’t even ask the price. She handed the woman her credit card and followed her to a register. Her cell rang. She answered.
Lynn in the back of the store. “Can you please bring me a flatbed?”
“Right away.” She signed the slip, grabbed a flatbed, and pushed it to plumbing. Reality had returned. That night in bed she realized she had not mentioned her purchase to Lynn. She had figured to.
A deep-voiced horn beeped the next morning as Judith, Angela, and Lynn sat around the breakfast table discussing the Fourth of July. Homer barked helpfully.
“Already?” Judith hopped up. “I believe that’s for me.”
It was! As she jogged out onto the porch, the driver was just climbing out of the hardware store’s stake-side truck. Her coop and poultry supplies had arrived! But where to put them? Where would they be least conspicuous? Probably beyond the garage.
She glanced behind her. Lynn was standing on the porch step gawking. “Harry? Harry! Wrong address! We didn’t order this.”
The young man frowned at his invoice. “Says here you did, Lynn.”
“It’s mine,” Judith said quickly. “I was thinking maybe behind the garage.”
“But…but…it’s a chicken coop. Chickens. We don’t…chicken coop.”
Never had Judith seen Lynn so flustered, not even when two dozen guests dropped in at once. Was her chicken idea—her chicken dream—so wrong?
Angela hopped down off the porch. “Chickens! What a great idea! Fresh eggs, little chicks running around. I love it. What kind are we getting?”
Lynn shook her head. “We’re not. This is a mistake, a…a…”
The driver named Harry turned to Judith. “Credit card payment here says your name is Rutherford. Any relation to the Rutherfords in the town of that name?”
“Direct descendant, yes. Rutherford House is now a public museum. Take your family and visit sometime.”
The young man grinned. “Hey, I will. Gotta get a family first. I’ll tell my girlfriend. Where do you want the coop?”
Beside Judith, Angela giggled. “Don’t forget to tell her why.”
Judith pointed. “Beyond the garage.”
“Can do.” Harry headed back to his truck.
Lynn had changed from agape to angry. In fact, she seemed very angry. “Judith, no! The three of us discuss things like this first. We’re one household, not three separate kingdoms!”
Angela butted in. “Lynn, you must have said it a hundred times: ‘This really is your home. You are not just renting a room.’ All right. It’s our home. But we are not your children. We’re adults and sometimes we follow our drummers, not yours. Did you see how happy Judith looked when she heard the truck horn?”
Judith broke in. “My mother and I both loved chickens; this is a dream for me, Lynn. Please let me follow my dream.”
“Besides,” Angela added, “with three of us, feeding chickens, gathering eggs, and all will not be a burden on anyone. We can share the work.”
Lynn’s scowl had not softened. She turned and marched inside.
Judith drew a deep breath. “I may have made a huge mistake, Angela.”
Angela shook her head. “This has been coming ever since we got here; I could feel it. I don’t think she expected to have to share her matriarchal position.”
“Matriarch.” Judith smiled sadly. “She sure is that.”
“Here?” Harry called, so Judith hurried around behind the garage, with Angela right behind her.
Angela stepped forward. Good! Angela was a Realtor. She knew where to put things. “If we set up the building there and paint it a cool brown, it will blend in well, hardly noticeable. Run the yard out this way with a gate there.”
“Looks good.” Harry frowned. “Is Miz Lundberg all right?”
“If she isn’t, she will be. Do you need help with the coop?”
“Nope. Got the forklift right here.”
Judith watched, fascinated, as the young man—surely not out of his teens yet; he still had a few pimples—casually threw some planks down between the truck bed and the ground. He walked up them to a big yellow blob of a machine like one of those riding lawn mowers. Ah. This was the forklift. He hopped on; started its engine; and expertly slid the forks under the coop, raised the load, and drove down the planks.
Angela was standing beyond some bushes, indicating exactly where to place Judith’s dream. And she was right. Paint it brown and one would never notice it. The coop settled into place.
Harry used the forklift to unload the rolls of wire and big cartons with the poultry equipment. He drove it back up on the truck bed, blocked its wheels, and tied it down. All that heavy lifting, and one callow young man did it by barely raising a finger. With a cheerful wave from the driver, the truck rumbled away.
Judith grabbed the top flaps of one box and tugged. It took her and Angela together to rip the box open. She lifted out the shiny aluminum dome of a brand-new waterer. She laughed. “Some assembly required!”
“Wait.” Angela raised a hand. “I have an idea. Let’s pause on this until Lynn cools down and then get her to help. Get her involved from the very beginning. I’m hoping she’ll feel a little better about it if she’s in on it from the start. Almost the start.”
Judith didn’t have to think about that for long. “Good idea, Angela!”
Her cell rang. She answered.
“This is Phillip. Mom tells me we’re in the chicken business.”
“Phillip! I’m glad you called. I’m sure she told you I bought a chicken coop without a household conference. That’s true; it was an impulse purchase. I wanted to call you just now and didn’t know how to do it. You see, I am not looking for allies in a war, and I was afraid you’d get that impression. No, I’d just like to know the best way to approach Lynn. You’ve known her your whole life. Any suggestions?”
She thought she heard him chuckling. “Well, Judith, you have an ally anyway. I think when Mom got this house-sharing idea, she pictured two complacent people with no personal needs, desires, or opinions and they’d think exactly like she does. I won’t tell her, ‘I told you so,’ that’s for sure. But I can think it. Is your coop on skids?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t mark off a fence or anything yet. Tom and I will come over late this afternoon and pour some cement footings to get the skids up off the dirt. Did—”
“Oh, dear. It’s big; the young man unloaded it with a forklift.”
Phillip chuckled. “They’re not the only ones with a forklift. Did you get chickens?”
“I have absolutely no idea how to go about getting chickens.”
“Hold off on that. Did Harry deliver steel fence posts?”
“No. Big rolls of wire. Poultry netting for a six-by-eight yard, the invoice says.”
“Yard gate?”
Judith studied the jumble of materials. “I don’t think so.”
“Tom and I will come by with what you need. See you later.”
“I…Thank you, Phillip.” She swiped the line closed. He had not offered any advice on how to approach Lynn. Oh, well. If the chicken coop killed this whole deal, maybe it was God’s will. Lynn seemed to read God’s will pretty well. But Judith no longer had the slightest idea how to recognize it, let alone respond to it. It certainly had not been manifest to her lately.
Angela motioned. “I’m going to dig up the geranium bed out front; it’s what I was going to do anyway, before all this.” She left.
Well, then, into the lion’s den. Judith went indoors and paused outside the kitchen. Lynn had her back turned to her. She was mixing up a huge amount of dough of some sort; almost violently, it seemed. Quite likely she was getting started on hot dog buns for the Fourth. This was probably not the best time for a cooking lesson.
Who would know everything she needed? The hardware store. She got in her car and drove there.
The young woman who had first approached her was still working the front of the store. Judith flagged her down as soon as she pointed out the gardening section to an old lady.
“Where do I obtain chickens and supplies, like feed?” Judith asked.
“Miller’s Feed. You go out of town on—”
“We bought cat and dog food there, I believe.”
“Good. That’s where. They sell farm supplies.”
Judith got back in the car and drove out to the feedstore. And she noticed that this area was not quite the strange place it had felt like when she arrived. She was starting to know her way around. Was her increasing comfort perhaps a sign of God’s will?
She spent a few minutes in the feedstore simply walking up and down aisles. What an amazing place. There was nothing quite like it in Rutherford. This store also sold chicken coops, both full-size and table high, but their coops cost more and they had no specials on. Judith felt a little better about her purchase. The toy section was almost all green tractors and yellow trucks and a huge case of miniature farm animals. And here were aisles of food. Dog, cat, rabbit, hamster, goldfish, koi, horse, calf, you name it—and yes, chickens. But not just chickens. This bag was for chicks; that one was labeled “laying mash.” Judith had expected—you know, just plain old chicken feed.
She returned to the front and got a cart. She pushed it over to an older man stocking shelves. “Excuse me. I’m going to be getting some chickens and I’m not certain just what to buy in the way of supplies.”
“Have you raised chickens before?”
“Not since early childhood.”
He smiled and walked off toward the feed aisles. “Do you have the chickens yet?”
“No. We’re pouring footings for the coop this afternoon.” Oh, my, that sounded as if she knew what she was doing! Ha. She tagged along behind.
He nodded. Maybe she did know what she was doing. “Do you have a brooder?”
She thought a moment. “For babies? No.”
“I’d suggest checking want ads for grown chickens for starting out. Get a brooder and raise chicks after you’ve gotten your feet wet.” He slapped a bag. “This is very good for hens, and it’s a little cheaper than the name brands.”
“I always thought chicken feed was cheap, as in ‘that ain’t chicken feed.’”
“It goes a long way, especially if you have an outside run.” He laughed and slapped his hand on bags. “This stuff is good for chicks, and I recommend this laying mash if they’re producing eggs. It provides minerals and amino acids they need. Just a side dish of it, so to speak.”
“Thank you!”
“We have sawdust out back. If you spread sawdust on the coop floor you’ll find it’s easier to keep clean. My wife also lays down newsprint.”
As he continued, Judith tried to keep it all straight. This was a far more complex process than she remembered. But then she thought about their pretty little speckled hen and the barred Plymouth Rocks, and…and…and she got excited all over again.
She wouldn’t get feed yet, but she would get the sawdust and paper now. Assemble the waterer and feed trough. Have the coop all ready for its denizens.
On the way out she passed a huge corkboard with notices tacked all over it. Oh! There was a picture of very pretty, plump, tan chickens. Buff Orpingtons, it said, three years old. Free to a good home! The picture and caption took up the top half of the notice; the bottom half was cut vertically into strips and each strip had a phone number. Judith tore off one of the strips and pocketed it. She would call when she got home.
When she got home. That surprised her; she was thinking of this as home already. But what if Lynn was angry enough to kick her out?
The paper came in a heavy roll that nearly tipped her cart over. She managed to lift it into the backseat and toss her big bag of sawdust into the trunk. A few more forays like this and she would be ready to compete with weight lifters.
When she drove into the yard and parked in front of her garage bay, another dilemma: Where to keep all the supplies and such? She could put the paper and sawdust in the garage for now and ask Phillip later.
In the front yard, empty pots and flats were scattered all over. Angela, on her knees, was just putting in the last of several dozen geraniums. They lined the front porch, a modest row of red that, in a month or so, would not be modest at all.
And out back, a Paul’s Plumbing pickup was parked and the coop sat on the forks of a forklift even bigger than the hardware store’s. Tom and Phillip were pouring slurpy cement into narrow rectangular footing holes lined with boards.
Phillip did some final magic with a shovel and stepped back. “These will be ready tomorrow. We brought another sixteen feet of netting to lay on the ground; we’ll wire it to the vertical netting so that nothing can dig under the fence to get your chickens.”
She almost had tears in her eyes. “I am so grateful, Phillip. Tom.”
Tom joined them, grinning. “Actually, this looks kind of fun. Know what kind of chickens you want?”
“I have a phone number here offering Buff Orpingtons. Apparently, getting grown-up chickens is easier.”
Tom nodded. “We can set the posts this afternoon and stretch the netting after the coop is in place. That’s quite a nice little chicken shack. I saw the price. We probably couldn’t build it for that. Good buy.”
“Thank you. I wish Lynn thought so.”
Phillip stepped in front of her and looked her in the eye. “My mother has always run the show. This housemate thing was her idea, but she didn’t think everything through. In this situation she can’t be the only queen on the throne, but she’ll adjust. She always does, even when Dad died. Still, it will be hard for her.”
Tom chimed in. “You have serious adjustments to make. Angela’s are even more difficult; she’s been dumped. Rejected. That’s always tough. Give Mom and Angela the room to make their adjustments, and make your own. We will support all three of you.”
“Thank you.”
The men went back to setting steel posts, squaring off corners.
Judith noticed that the coop had looked much larger in the store than it appeared here, nestled behind a bush. No matter. It was a good start to a dream come true.
When people say “a dream come true,” they surely
don’t realize how difficult and painful realizing dreams can be.
Chapter Twenty-One
Good morning, Lynn.” Judith entered the kitchen to find Lynn already baking something. And it wasn’t even breakfast yet.
“Good morning, Judith.” No smile, no cheer.
Judith thought about this. Actually, she had been thinking about it almost constantly, and she could not see a clear direction to go.
She walked over to the stove and stood right next to Lynn. “When I was growing up—in fact, when I was an adult—my father would announce his decisions. There were never discussions, or meetings, or even him asking what we felt or wanted. Meetings and discussions are foreign ground to me. I didn’t think of them and that offended you. I am very sorry. Will you forgive me?”
Lynn met her eye to eye for a long, long moment. “Yes. You are forgiven. Of course.” And she turned, picked up an oven mitt, and peeked inside the oven.
Funny, Judith didn’t feel forgiven. But she had done what she could and she had done it sincerely. She really was sorry she hadn’t stopped to think. She opened the refrigerator and got out two eggs. Hen fruit. Cackleberries. Chickens. She smiled in spite of herself. Lynn’s displeasure was the only cloud in her sky.
Lynn was indeed making hot dog and hamburger buns. She pulled two big sheets of buns out and put them on cooling racks.
Judith poured some coffee, leaned on her elbows, and watched Lynn.
Lynn paused to look at her.
Judith waved a hand toward all the buns. “I’m thinking about cooling racks of all things. Your cooling racks get the most traffic of any cooling racks I’ve ever heard of. Cook only had one and she only used it for pot roast. Hot dog and hamburger buns came from supermarket shelves, not Grandma’s oven. And I’m rejoicing in how different my life suddenly is.”
Lynn smiled, but it was not her usual cheery smile. “So much is different, that’s for sure. For all of us.”
“Lynn, I truly am sorry I acted impulsively. I’ll try not to do it again.”
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