by Lynne Norris
“Love you, too,” Emma said and ended the call.
The homecoming was not at all what she had hoped for and her anger flared when she thought of her conversation with the realtor who had shared none of this with her on the phone.
Emma worked late into the night cleaning the bedroom she was going to sleep in. Between washing the walls and vacuuming the carpet she made multiple trips out to her car and carried in her belongings. At two o’clock in the morning she collapsed exhausted onto the bed, still in her clothes, and slept.
The next day, Emma drove to the local hardware store and purchased some cleaning supplies and contractor bags. She spent two days collecting and throwing out trash that the tenants had left behind. She scrubbed the bathrooms and left all the windows open during the day despite the hot and humid August weather to air the house out. By the fourth day she started to work on repairing the holes in the walls. Although she wasn’t great at spackling she gave it her best effort trying to remember what the man at the store had told her about feathering out the edges. Her arms ached and she couldn’t stand to look at another black contractor bag.
There was nothing else to do while she waited for the spackle to dry. Emma needed a break and took the opportunity to drive back to Manhattan. Being back in the city was bittersweet. She spent time lingering in some shops in the financial district. In the past she would buy what she wanted without a thought as to what the item cost. Now, her eyes went to the price tags first and she mentally shook her head wondering how she could have been so naïve and foolish.
She stayed overnight in the apartment, ate Chinese food out of a takeout container for dinner and had the leftovers for breakfast while she walked through the rooms for one last time. After she packed her belongings in the car, Emma called Kate. She wasn’t surprised when she didn’t answer her phone and assumed she was screening her calls.
“Hi Kate. I won’t need the apartment past the end of this month. If there’s anything else you want you’ll need to make plans to come get it. I’ll be turning in the keys to the leasing company on the thirty-first.”
Kate called her back in fifteen minutes and Emma knew immediately by the tone of her voice she was pissed. “That’s not enough time for me to get up there, Emma.”
“You’ve been gone two and half months. I told you I had a monthly lease when I was in Florida and was looking to move out.”
“Where are you moving to?” Kate asked.
Ah, the real reason emerges Emma thought. She hesitated and then answered. “I decided to move to my father’s lake house in Massachusetts.”
“So you aren’t staying in the city after all.” Emma heard the accusation in Kate’s voice and bristled.
“It’s a better option for me. The house is paid for so I might as well take advantage of the free rent.”
“I need more time to move my things out.” Kate’s voice reminded her of earlier times in their relationship when they would fight over trivial things.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not paying another month’s rent for your convenience. Why don’t you ask one of your friends to come with you?” Emma couldn’t help herself when she added, “I’m sure Stephanie would jump at the opportunity to come to New York with you.”
Kate sounded unruffled and asked without skipping a beat, “What if I gave you a list of things to ship down? Would you do that for me?” Kate’s voice turned husky when she asked, the one she always used when she wanted something from Emma.
Emma found herself almost answering yes, but stopped. “No Kate, I won’t. You have until the end of the month to get your things out. Ralph will be happy to let you in until then.”
“What happens if I can’t get there?”
“Why don’t you call the management company and find out what they can do. Maybe you can work something out with them,” Emma offered.
“That’s not very nice of you.”
“Nice has nothing to do with it, Kate. You’re the one who left. You made it perfectly clear when I was down there that we were over and probably for much longer than I even realized.”
“You were the one who didn’t want to move.”
“Oh, so it’s my fault?”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“No.” Emma raised her voice. “Don’t even try and make this about me not moving down there with you. I can’t believe that after everything—all the time we’ve been together—you could just pick up and leave. This wasn’t about the money or me not moving down there with you. Was it? Tell me. When did you decide to leave?”
“I don’t want to do this, Emma.”
“Why, because it makes you uncomfortable? Too bad! I want to know.” Emma was shaking she was so angry and hurt. “You at least owe me the truth.”
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
“A little late for that. When did you decide to leave?” Emma demanded.
There was a long silence then Kate said, “Six months ago.”
“Is it because of Stephanie?”
“Emma,” Kate implored.
“Just tell me, dammit. At least allow me to move on knowing the real reason and not this bullshit story about an art dealer and not wanting to start over.”
“Yes. I met her at the Black Hound on one of her business trips.”
“Jesus.” Emma felt ice cold slither down her spine and she could hear the thudding of her pulse in her ears. That was about the time that Kate started picking up extra shifts or at least that’s what she told Emma. She didn’t want to imagine Kate flirting with Stephanie like she’d done with Emma all those years ago. She didn’t want to see them together in her mind, but her brain went there anyway.
It was over.
Done.
Finished.
Emma wanted to sink down and cry, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it on the phone with Kate listening to her.
“I guess there’s nothing else for us to say,” Kate said.
“No, there isn’t. Just goodbye.” Emma ended the call before Kate could say anything else. She didn’t want to hear her empty platitudes about the good times they had. She started to throw her phone, but held back. An angry shriek ripped through her turning into a mournful wail as she sank to her knees and wept.
She cried for the loss of her lover.
Cried for the loss of her future.
Cried for the certainty she had believed in all these years.
EMMA RETURNED TO Massachusetts and spent the next few days filling out online applications and sending her resume to brokerages throughout the Northeast and as far west as Chicago. It was a tedious and time-consuming task. By the end of her marathon she felt completely disillusioned. She was proud of the work she did at the brokerage. She spent the better part of her adult life dedicating her time and efforts to making money for the firm and its clients. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered she would be unemployed and so disconnected from her life.
She was still in shock that SMB Capital had suffered such catastrophic losses that it shut its doors and let all their employees go. There were moments when she thought she might wake up from this nightmare and find her life restored to what it was before. Her rational mind reminded her that wasn’t possible and that wish meant Kate would be back in her life. When she thought about Kate simply leaving, Emma decided that she was better off regardless of whatever else happened going forward.
With a sigh, Emma closed her laptop and slid it into its canvas case. Filled with frustration and anxiety she grabbed her keys and locked the door behind her on her way out. She drove ten minutes into the downtown area to buy groceries. She’d been living on take out and that needed to come to an immediate stop if she was going to make her money last longer.
Thirty minutes later, Emma walked out of the grocery store with two bags of food, enough to last her for at least a week. The parking lot was half full of cars, but few people were around, most lingering in the air-conditioned stores.
Heat rose off the macadam in
shimmery waves. Leaves on the trees hung limp and still with not even a scant breeze to offer relief. Intrinsic to the month of August was the unique and loud sound of cicadas belting out their high-pitched mating song.
Off to Emma’s right, a man sidled in her direction. Scraggly, limp, oily hair and an unkempt patchy beard stuck out from underneath the brim of his floppy sweat stained hat. A drab olive shirt clung to his slender frame.
He muttered to himself, but Emma couldn’t make out what he was saying. All she knew was that he was headed in her direction and his presence was already making her uncomfortable. The man reminded her of the panhandlers that gathered at choke points in New York City and tried to wash the windows of cars while their hapless drivers were stuck at a light.
“Wipe your windows for a dollar,” the man rasped as he approached.
Crap, Emma thought. She didn’t want to be rude, but there was simply no graceful way out of this. “No thanks,” Emma said firmly as she unlocked her car door and set her bags on the floor behind the driver’s seat. When she looked again he was standing on the opposite side of her car. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath.
“I’ll clean your window for a dollar.” He pulled crumped newspaper out of his pocket and leaned across the trunk to wipe the window.
“Look, just take this.” Emma’s hands shook as she dug into her pocket wondering what he could possibly buy for a dollar. She heard an engine with a high-pitched squeal pull up next to them. A horn blared and Emma nearly jumped out of her skin. “Great!” Emma said. “Now we can be even more of a spectacle.”
“Robert!” A woman hung out the window of a black Ford F-150. “Leave the lady alone.” When he didn’t respond, Emma heard the engine shut off and a muffled curse. “Robert. I said leave her car alone.”
“I ain’t doing anybody no harm,” he shot back and for a brief moment Emma saw fury.
“Except that you’re scaring the hell out of her.” The door opened and the woman stepped down from the truck. Almost the same height as Emma, she was sturdy with graceful curves and shoulder-length dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail beneath her baseball cap. Her bare arms showed the definition of someone who spent more than a little time working out. By the bronze tint to her skin, Emma was certain that most of the woman’s time was spent outside doing physical labor. Threadbare jeans hugged the curves of her hips and stretched across her muscular thighs. Emma still couldn’t place the woman, but had the sense that she knew her from somewhere.
“I just want to buy a cup of coffee,” Robert said as he continued to wipe Emma’s rear window.
“You can get coffee downtown.”
“I don’t want to go downtown. I want to buy my own coffee,” Robert insisted.
“Here,” Emma said holding out a five dollar bill. “Take this and go buy what you want.”
“No. Put your money away. Robert you’ve got one last chance before I call Officer Cierello.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’re harassing the lady and you’ve gotten in trouble for being a public nuisance three times in the past month. Go down to the kitchen and get your coffee there.”
Emma waited, unsure of what to do. From the back of the pick up truck two German Shepards peered out at her. Tongues hung out of the sides of their mouths as they panted in unison. Emma swore they looked like they were laughing at her. One circled and ducked his head disappearing from view. When the dog reappeared its snout was wet and water dripped from its jowls. He, at least Emma thought it looked like a male, with his broad snout, whined and let out a high-pitched attention seeking bark.
“Max, quiet!” the woman snapped. Emma couldn’t help but smile when Max grumbled a deep-chested protest at the verbal correction, but sat on his haunches nonetheless.
“Go on. Mike and I will be down later and you can help us unload the truck.”
That information seemed to draw the man’s attention. “Don’t let any of the others help. They don’t unpack the boxes right.”
“We’ll be there around one. Don’t go wandering off or you’ll miss the delivery.”
“All right.” He shoved the wrinkled newspaper into his pants pocket and ambled away. With each step the sole of his right sneaker flapped loosely, threatening to fall completely off.
Emma watched him limp across the parking lot. His worn blue jeans hung precariously low around his hips, threatening to slip down completely if not for the worn leather belt cinched tightly around them. She still held the crumpled, now sweat dampened, five-dollar bill in her hand. Self-consciously, she tucked it into the pocket of her shorts.
“Sorry about that.”
“Thanks for stopping. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get him to stop. Who is he anyway?” Emma asked trying to see the face hidden behind the mirrored sunglasses and the shadow of the baseball cap.
“He used to work for a local company until they shipped all their jobs overseas. He lost his job, his house and drank himself half stupid in the process. He’s relatively harmless unless he goes off his meds.”
“What happens when he goes off his medications?” Emma asked, wondering if she really wanted to know at all.
“Last year he stole a car and took it for a joy ride. He broke into a house about thirty minutes from here. He ransacked the place, drank himself into a stupor before the family came home and found him passed out in one of the bedrooms.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.” A reckless grin lit up the woman’s features. “The police arrested him and threw him in jail. The judge sent him to a psych facility. He was out in less than thirty days.”
“That’s it?” Emma shook her head in disbelief.
“He’s never hurt anyone.”
“He just roams around during the day?”
“Pretty much. There’s a shelter that he goes to sleep at night, but that’s all there is.”
“There’s no place else for him to go?” Emma asked incredulous that someone could just be simply wandering the streets when they were so desperately in need of help.
“No. Some of us look out for him, but nobody can watch him twenty-four hours a day. He picked you out because of your fancy car and out of state plates.”
“Lucky me.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Emma.”
“I know who you are.” A crooked smile played across the woman’s face as she lifted the glasses away. Glacial blue eyes glinted with a hint of amusement and Emma realized she was staring into them.
Suddenly, it struck Emma and she was mortified. “Grace? Oh my God! I feel like an idiot.”
“Don’t,” Grace said, “I wear these because the sun bothers my eyes. It’s been a long time since we saw each other. The last time I saw you was the August after our graduation.” Grace pushed the brim of her cap back. “Mom mentioned she talked to you last week.”
“She was working when I stopped by the store.” Emma wondered if Mrs. Moretti told Grace she was laid off from work.
Grace looked just like Emma remembered her, strong and vibrant. Pretty was not a word she would use to describe Grace. Her strong cheekbones, full lips and high-bridged nose made her striking to look at. Emma’s mind seemed to get muddled and she found herself struggling for something to say. “I heard about your father. God, I’m so sorry.”
Grace’s whole demeanor changed as if a weight settled on her shoulders and Emma immediately wanted to smack herself for bringing the subject up. “It was touch and go for the first couple of months.”
“She said he had an accident with the tractor.”
“He doesn’t remember what happened. He was driving up the same hill he’s driven for the past fifty-five years. I don’t know how he lost control, but he ended up driving into a ditch and the tractor tipped. His leg got caught under the side of it when he fell off. The doctor’s said he may have passed out right before it happened. They were able to save his leg, but it took a lot out of him.”
After a moment’s awkward h
esitation Emma said, “I heard you came back to help run the farm.”
Grace shifted and her eyes took on a far away look. “Something along those lines. Mom couldn’t run the farm all by herself and take care of Dad.”
“They’re lucky to have you,” Emma said.
Grace straightened, watching as a blue Dodge Charger rolled past them. “I should get going—don’t want to block traffic.”
“Thanks for helping get rid of that guy.”
“No problem. I have to bring water to the guys running the booth at the farmer’s market today. Good to see you, Emma.”
Reluctant to end their conversation, Emma blurted out as Grace turned away, “You mentioned a kitchen and a delivery. What were you referring to?”
“There’s a soup kitchen down on the corner of Hatfield and May. My brother and I bring food by once or twice a week depending, on what we have left over from the farmer’s market.”
Chapter Four
THE MORETTI’S FOUR hundred and fifty acre farm in Massachusetts was nestled between the Berkshire Mountains to the West and the Connecticut River Valley to the East. The farm had been in Grace’s family for generations. Her great-great-grandfather built the big frame house her family lived in now, in 1863. The barn, with its fieldstone foundation, was built the same year.
When Grace returned to the farm, Michael helped her convert what used to be extra storage above the barn into a one-room efficiency apartment with a separate entrance. It was Spartan, but the space served its purpose. It gave her a space to sleep, shower, cook a simple meal and store her belongings.
The land itself was mixed. Part of it was wood forest offering well-managed hard woods for timber use. The rest was rolling hills and gently sloping pastures with streams and creeks that traversed the land.
In the winter months they tapped the maple trees in the forest for syrup. Out in the fields they raised cattle, pigs and poultry for meat using a rotational grazing paddock system. This kept their external grain requirements to a minimum.