Eyes on the Prize

by Sunni Jeffers

  “Somehow, I can’t picture Fred hobnobbing with the yachting crowd,” Alice said. She couldn’t picture Vera as a social butterfly, either. Her friend was down-to-earth and completely without guile or pretensions.

  “He hated it. Fortunately, he liked me enough to put up with my friends.” Vera sighed. “Up to a point, anyway. I almost lost him because of my social set.”

  “That’s hard to believe. Fred wouldn’t judge you for your friends,” Alice said.

  “You’re right. He didn’t judge me. I judged him.”

  “Surely not. I’ve never known you to judge anyone,” Alice said. She looked around the powder room, trying to picture Vera as a young woman, all dressed up, surrounded by socialites in beautiful gowns.

  “To get back to your aunt and the house, what do you think she’d say to taking out part of this room?”

  “Are you thinking we could install an elevator here?”

  “Exactly. I’ve known families who have done that. They make small lifts for homes. They aren’t cheap, but it would pay for itself in a matter of months, considering what your aunt would pay at an assisted living center. She’d need to have a live-in companion. The nurse at the rehab center—the one who’s so fond of your aunt—might be interested in such a position. Agatha wouldn’t need constant attention, but she’d need help with bathing, getting in that big bed of hers and generally having someone around in case she needed help. I have a feeling that if she thought she could come home when she’s more mobile, she’d start getting better quickly.”

  “It’d be worth checking out. Where would I begin?”

  “We could look for elevator companies. It would help if we had a computer to look on the Internet.”

  “Reggie has one in his office. I’ll ask him if I can use it. Oh, I hope this’ll work. What else would we need to do?”

  “We can make a list of all the changes you’d need to make. I think I’d find out about the possibilities before you mention anything to Agatha.”

  “Yes, of course. I won’t say a word. We mustn’t tell Reggie either. I can’t wait to start. First thing in the morning.”

  “There, that’s the last of them,” Louise said, putting a swirl of buttercream frosting on a pumpkin spice cookie Tuesday morning. She handed it to Jane, who piped the outline of a pumpkin on top of the cookie.

  Jane arranged the cookies on a large round platter. “I hope the children like these. Maybe it will give them a taste for pumpkins.”

  “Beautiful,” Louise pronounced. “I predict they’ll love them.”

  “Now to get the garden ready.” Jane removed her apron and washed her hands. “Let’s go put up the corn stalks.”

  “I’m right behind you,” Louise said, tying a blue paisley bandanna around her neck. “How do I look?”

  Jane gave her a once over. Louise had worn her only pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, and that she’d borrowed from Jane. “You look like you’re ready for Halloween,” Jane teased.

  “It was your idea to dress like farmers for the schoolchildren.”

  “Yes, and you have on the right clothes. Maybe after we roll around in the corn stalks, you’ll look more the part.”

  “No thank you. I’ll let you do that.”

  Louise thought about feeding the pumpkins, then decided that would have to wait. The children were due to arrive within the hour, and she wouldn’t have time to uncover the pumpkins and feed them.

  Jane handed her a couple of small pumpkins. Then she piled colorful dried gourds and Indian corn in a basket, which they carried out to the garden.

  “Somehow, this seems backward. First we carried all this in and now we’re bringing it back out,” Louise said.

  “Yes, but it’ll look terrific for the children,” Jane responded.

  Sam Bellwood had left a pile of cut, dry corn stalks by the garden gate. Jane brought gardening gloves and twine from the shed. They sorted through the pile, separating the stalks into piles.

  “If we use six per bundle, we’ll have enough for two corn shocks by the garden and several for the front yard,” Jane said.

  Louise held the stalks together while Jane tied twine around the middle. When they had two shocks ready, they arranged the bottoms of the bundles so that they’d stand against the fence on each side of the garden gate. They piled the small pumpkins, winter squash, bright yellow, green and red gourds and multicolored dried corn beneath the shocks. Louise had to admit, it made the garden look festive. After they’d harvested most of the produce, the garden looked abandoned except for her pumpkins and Jane’s flowers.

  “Let’s move the rest of the corn stalks, so the children don’t destroy them,” Jane suggested.

  “Good idea.” Louise grabbed a handful and carried them around to the shed. Jane followed with the remaining stalks.

  They’d just finished when a school bus pulled up to the curb in front of the inn. High pitched squeals and laughter erupted into the midmorning air.

  “Everyone line up single file,” a teacher ordered.

  “Are we ready?” Louise asked.

  Jane looked at Louise, then down at her clothes. She grinned. “Yup, and now we really look like farmers.”

  Louise looked down at her shirt and jeans. Bits of dry corn shucks clung to her clothes. She tried to brush them off, but they wouldn’t budge. Jane’s clothes were covered too. She reached up and pulled a piece of dry corn silk from Jane’s hair. “We look like a couple of hayseeds,” she joked.

  A line snaked its way around the driveway toward them. A teacher led the way, with three helpers herding what looked like a group of lively jumping beans.

  “Hi, Mrs. Smith,” a youthful voice yelled. Bill Green was a kindergartner and one of Louise’s beginning piano students.

  “Hello, Mrs. Smith,” Mandy Gardner, another of Louise’s five-year-old piano students, called and waved. She grinned and showed a gap where her front tooth had come out. Her twin sister waved too. When she laughed at something, she showed an identical gap.

  “Hello,” Louise called back, but she didn’t want to contribute to a disturbance. Jane had gone to speak with the teacher in charge. Louise didn’t recognize her, which surprised her. She thought she knew most of the school staff. She went over to join them.

  “We have snacks for the children and they can play games on the lawn while we take small groups into the garden,” Jane said.

  “Perfect. How many children can go into the garden at a time?”

  Jane looked at Louise. She raised an eyebrow. “Five or six? How many children are with you?”

  “We have twenty-nine.”

  They divided the children into five groups. The parent chaperones started a game of Duck, Duck, Goose, while the teacher accompanied Jane and Louise and six kindergartners into the garden. They lined up along the path, standing before the covered cage.

  Louise took one side of the blankets and tarp and Jane took the other. Together, they lifted and pulled the covering back, revealing the giant pumpkin.

  “Wow! I can’t believe it!” a little boy burst out. He put his thumbs and forefingers together to make circles and stared through them as if they were binoculars. Louise and Jane exchanged amused glances.

  “That’s a pumpkin?” another child exclaimed. “Are you going to make a jack-o’-lantern with it?”

  “Probably not. It’s too big,” Louise said.

  “Sure is. It’s so big it would cave in,” Bill Green said sagely. “That happened to my friend last year. Just went shmoosh,” he said, making a face and smacking his hands together to emphasize his point.

  “Can I sit on top of it and get my picture taken?” a little, dark-haired beauty asked. She gave them a toothy smile, as if already posing.

  “I’m sorry, but no one can sit on it. It’s still growing and it’s not that strong.”

  A woman stood off to one side, holding a camera. “You can stand there and I’ll take your picture,” she told the child. To Louise she said, “I thought I’d
take all of the children’s pictures, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Louise said.

  One by one, the children posed next to the wood-and-mesh cage while the woman took pictures. She wanted the children posed just so, but the children were getting restless, so Jane stepped in to speed up things.

  Out on the lawn, the other parents had their hands full with exuberant children running, shouting, pushing and yelling.

  After the first group filed out, before the second group entered the garden, Jane had all the children sit down on the grass, then she got the treats and passed around pumpkin cookies and small cups of apple cider. For a few minutes, the children were subdued as they ate their snacks. On cue from their teacher, a chorus of thank-you’s arose and grew louder and louder, as if someone had a volume controller and was raising the sound. The children were laughing and shouting and having a great time hearing their own voices.

  Louise said a silent thank-you to the Lord for sending the raccoons to the garden. Because of them, the pumpkins got cages and were safe and protected from nighttime visitors, frost and rambunctious children.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sounds of power saws, sanders and nail guns echoed and reverberated off the metal building and the cove in the warm, clear air. The marina looked deserted, but the boatyard was a busy place at ten o’clock Tuesday morning. Alice followed Vera up a set of outside stairs at the rear of the long, tall building. At the top of the stairs, she opened a door leading into a small, dim hall. Vera knocked on the second door.

  “Come in,” they heard. Vera opened the door and poked her head inside.

  “Morning. Are you busy? I was wondering if I could use your computer for a little while to go on the Internet?”

  “Morning, Vera, Alice. Sure. Come on in.” Reggie stood and moved from behind his desk. “Did you get over to the nursing home?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t call it a nursing home, but yes, we visited there yesterday,” Vera said. “If that’s what you’re calling it, no wonder Aunt Agatha is so upset.”

  Reggie winced. “I’m afraid I hadn’t thought of that,” he said. “I’d call it a five-star resort if it would make her happier. So what did you think?”

  “It’s a lovely facility. The campus is larger than I expected, but the assisted living apartments are small.”

  “I’m not sure what constitutes big enough. She doesn’t use most of that mausoleum she calls home now.”

  Reggie was right about Agatha’s house. Most of it was covered in cloth. Still, Alice understood the older woman’s desire to live in her own home, where she was surrounded by familiar rooms, furnishings and memories.

  “What we need and what we cherish aren’t necessarily the same thing, Reggie. At least not to a woman,” Vera said.

  Reggie shook his head. “Bunch of sentimental mush, if you ask me. You know how to get your mail?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He smoothed his hair back and put on a baseball cap. “I’ll be down at the dry dock if you need me. Just leave the computer running when you’re finished.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. If you want to wait around, I’ll take you to lunch at the yacht club.”

  “We can’t, but thanks for the offer. We have things to do.”

  “Suit yourself.” Reggie left them alone.

  “Pull up a chair, so we can look together,” Vera said.

  They searched and found a nearby company that sold and installed home elevators. They also found a local company that serviced local shut-ins with supplies. Agatha would be able to get meals delivered, a visiting healthcare aide and eldercare transportation to wherever she needed to go. By the time they finished searching, Vera had a long list of numbers to call for information and help.

  As they drove out past the yacht club, Vera didn’t even glance toward the wonderful, fanciful building. She drove into town and parked downtown in front of a medical supply store.

  “I thought we could check here first, then find someplace for lunch.”

  “Fine with me,” Alice said. She wondered if Vera was avoiding her cousin or the house in which she’d grown up. Alice was sure Vera had enjoyed showing her around Agatha’s house, but she hadn’t displayed any interest in her own childhood home.

  “Hello. I’d like some information about home healthcare options,” Vera told the young female clerk.

  “Sure. Let me get Lennie to talk to you.” She turned and called through a doorway to the back, “Dad, could you come up front please?”

  A tall, slender man with sandy-blond hair appeared. He was smiling. When he saw Vera, his smile faltered. “Vera Jamison?”

  “Hi, Lennie. I didn’t expect to see you here. How are you?”

  “Good, good. And you?” He stared at Vera as if seeing a ghost. “You look great.”

  Vera smiled. “Thanks. So do you. And this lovely young lady is your daughter?”

  He glanced at his daughter, who was entering data in a computer. “Oh. Yeah. That’s Zoe.” His daughter nodded and smiled at the visitors. “Come on back to my office,” he said, opening the door for them.

  Vera introduced Alice and explained to her that she’d known Lennie since high school. He offered them chairs and coffee. They declined the drinks, but sat down. He leaned against his desk to talk to them.

  “You still married to … a … Fred, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. We still live in Acorn Hill.”

  “Wow. I’m single at the moment. For the third time.” He shrugged. “Just can’t seem to settle down. How long have you been in town?”

  “We got here Saturday night. I’m here to help decide how to care for my Aunt Agatha. She broke her hip a month ago and is having a hard time recovering.”

  “That’s too bad. You moving her into Briarhurst?”

  “Not if I can help it. That’s why I’m here. To see what’s available so she can live at home.”

  “That can be a tough way to go. She’ll need lots of care. Are you moving back here, by chance?”

  “No. We’d have to find a live-in companion.”

  He shook his head. “That usually doesn’t work out. It’s hard to get good long-term help, you know. I can recommend a homecare agency. She could have someone come by daily to help her, but she’d still be living alone. Is she still at the big place next to the yacht club?”

  “Yes. We’d have to make some changes, like installing an elevator.”

  “That would help, and we can supply lift chairs, scooters, portable potty chairs, bath stools, walkers and all kinds of aids to make homecare easier. Here’s a brochure of available resources around Shelton Cove. We have a fairly large retirement population, so there are options if she decides to stay at home.” He paused and looked at Vera. “Just between you and me, I wouldn’t recommend keeping her at home. Not unless you want to move in with her to care for her. If you do that, I’ll be happy to help you all I can.”

  Vera stood. “Thanks, Lennie. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She held up the brochure he’d given her. “I’ll read through this.”

  He pushed away from the desk and stood, looking down at Vera, who was several inches shorter than he. “Let me give you my cell phone number, just in case you have any questions.” He took a card out of his pocket and scrawled a number on the back of it, then handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She took the card and slipped it into her purse.

  Lennie walked them to the front of the store. He glanced at Alice, then back at Vera. “Would you like to go to dinner while you’re here, just for old time’s sake?”

  “We won’t be here long,” Vera said. She smiled and said good-bye and reached for the doorknob.

  “Don’t hesitate to call me anytime, night or day,” he told her. “I know a lot of people. I can help you with your aunt.”

  Vera smiled and said good-bye, then sailed out the door. Alice got the impression she couldn’t leave soon enough.

  “Old boyf
riend?” Alice asked after they got into the car.

  “Not really. We went to school together. He asked me out, but I never accepted. Lennie thinks he’s a lady’s man, which is probably why he’s been married several times.”

  Vera drove through town, then turned south. She continued for a few miles until they crossed a bridge over a tributary. “I saw this place from the boat Sunday. It used to have good food. We can stop there for lunch.”

  Alice didn’t say anything, but she thought it interesting that Vera seemed to be avoiding places where she might run into old acquaintances or reminders of her past.

  Jane removed the last jar of Italian-spiced, stewed tomatoes from the canner and turned it upside down on a towel on the counter. That made three-dozen jars, half in quart sizes and half in pint jars. That would get them through the winter with a few jars to spare. She set aside some pints to give away. They were just the right size for a meal for two people.

  Removing the canner from the stove, she was pouring the scalding water into the sink when someone knocked on the back door. The steam from the water made it hard to see.

  “Come in,” Jane called, setting the empty pot on the counter. She pushed wisps of damp hair back off her forehead with her sleeve and removed her hot pad mitts.

  “It’s me,” Ethel said, stepping into the kitchen. She had an envelope in her hand. “Oh my, you’ve been busy.”

  “Yes, and I have some jars for you to take home.”

  “Wonderful. And I have something for you,” she said, holding up the envelope, which looked thick. Jane couldn’t imagine what was in it, but Ethel looked particularly pleased.

  “I was just going to take a break and have a cup of coffee. Would you like to join me?”

  “Yes, thank you. I don’t suppose you have a little something to go with it. I’ve been so busy, I missed breakfast this morning.”

  “Auntie, you mustn’t skip meals. That’s not good for you.”

  She dismissed Jane’s concern with a wave of her hand. “I had a piece of whole wheat toast with peanut butter, but that was early.”