“You’re not married.” He released her hand with what Roxie thought of as some reluctance.
“No. Ah, we came to find a rug for my mother’s office.”
Oh, Loren, wake up. You can at least smile.
“Sorry. Of course, come this way.” He dropped his salesperson mask back in place and motioned toward the rugs hanging on frames on the back wall. “Did you have something particular in mind?”
Good man. Roxie silently cheered him on. And kept her mouth shut—a bit difficult to do, but he’d looked at her daughter with interest. A bevy of questions bombarded her mind. He was not wearing a wedding ring but that didn’t mean a lot in this day and age. Millennials were a whole different breed of cat than earlier generations. Please, Lord, let the rug be gone, anything to keep us here. What else could we be looking for?
Loren turned from looking over the rugs. “I don’t see the one we wanted, Mom.”
“Perhaps if you describe what you were looking at, I could help you?”
Loren glanced at her mother, who sent it back. Ah, the telepathy of mother-daughter glances. Loren rolled her eyes and turned back to Nathan.
“What were the colors and the size?” he asked.
“Square rug, geometric pattern, shades of burgundy, dark blues, and gray.”
“Ah, yes. Sorry, that sold the other day. I could order another one. It will take about three weeks. What size did you need?”
Loren looked at Roxie. “What, eight by eight?”
Roxie nodded. “Do you have anything else that is similar?”
“I think so, let me bring a couple of things from the back.” When they both nodded, he left through the door between the rug racks.
“What, you don’t want to wait for an order to come? We could just order it and leave.”
“I know but perhaps there is something I’d like better.”
“And you’ve been looking for a rug for how long?”
Roxie shrugged. “He seems really nice.”
“He sure isn’t the same round geek I remember.”
“People have a way of changing, growing up, you know?”
“I guess.” They turned as Nathan rolled in a dolly with several rugs on it. He lifted one off the pile and spread it on the stack by them.
“This has similar colors.”
“The blocks are bigger.” Roxie studied the rug. “Now I wish I had the other to compare with.”
“This one has tan rather than gray and the burgundy is more rust.” Loren flipped through the pictures on her cell phone to the one she’d taken. “See?”
Roxie nodded.
They both shook their heads at the next one he flipped out. “Too busy.”
“So what have you done since high school?” Nathan asked.
“Associate’s degree in library science and now working at the library.”
“Will you go on for more?”
“I don’t know.” She turned to her mother. “What do you think? Look at more or order?”
Oh, Loren. Ask him a question. At times Roxie felt like shaking her daughter—and now was one. “I think order. That other one is too perfect.”
“So, what have you been doing since high school?” she asked Nathan since her daughter didn’t.
“Got my degree in business so I could be a better help for my dad.” He led the way to the counter.
“Your dad owns this store?”
“Actually, we have a chain of four stores around the area. I manage this one, my brother manages the one in Green Bay, Dad the one in Madison, and my sister the one in De Pere.”
“That’s great, a family-owned business that has grown well.”
“My grandfather started it back in the forties. He and a friend of his made furniture and needed an outlet. No one’s made the furniture since then, but we make sure we have good quality at a decent price.” He pulled out an order form. “Name?”
Roxie handed him her business card. “This is easier.” While he filled out the form, she nodded at Loren. “See that lamp over there?”
“Unusual.”
“I know. How do you think that would fit in the living room?”
Loren shrugged. “I like the one we have.”
Nathan laid the form on the counter and showed Roxie the information. “How would you like to pay for this?”
“Credit card.” She drew out her wallet and extracted the one she used for much of their living expenses, then paid off before it came due. She had another one she used for her real estate business. She had been the money manager in the family from the get-go although Greg, her husband, had been equally money conscious. Money had never been an issue between the two of them. Surely there had been areas of conflict between them, but these years later, he had been burnished with hero qualities. She’d never cared to find someone to take his place. He was too hard to measure up to.
Except for her children. Good thing her brother had taken on the role of strong male in their lives. The two older ones were off and growing their own lives, but little Loren, the baby, had yet to find her niche in life. Or to really want to, or so it seemed to Roxie. She brought herself back to standing in front of the counter at the furniture store.
“I’ll call you as soon as they notify us it’s shipped.” Nathan was nodding and smiling. “Now, is there anything else I can help you with today?”
Roxie bit her tongue to keep the words from tumbling out. You could fall in love with my daughter and help her build a happy life. She cleared her throat. “Not that I can think of. Oh, by the way, do your stores ever work with Realtors in staging homes for sale?”
“I know I don’t, but I can ask the others.”
“Is there a reason you don’t?”
“Would you believe I’ve never been asked?”
Roxie smiled. Aha! “Might you be amenable to such an idea?”
He nodded as he looked at her. “We could talk about it.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch. Thank you.”
“Good to see you again, Loren.” He paused. “Excuse me, I need to get this.” He answered a call. He waved as they turned to leave.
“Mother, what were you doing? You have never encouraged staging.” Loren put a down twist on the word when they reached the parking lot.
“Who knows, perhaps there will be a property that would be enhanced with that.” Roxie slid behind the wheel. “Thanks for coming with me.” And who knew where this might lead?
Chapter Six
Amalia picked up the phone and punched in numbers she knew by heart. One ring. Two. Ginny answered.
Amalia got right to business. “So do you still have more tomato plants?”
“Amalia, where are you going to put in a garden?” Ginny asked. “I thought Maple Reach wasn’t going to have a community garden this year.”
“They aren’t. So I am going to do pots on my deck. Two tomato, one cucumber, a lettuce basket, and some flowers. I can do the tomatoes and cukes on trellises; I have the sweet peas on one now. So what kind of tomatoes do you have?”
“How about I give you either a yellow pear or a sweet grape and say either a Roma or Early Girl? I have pickling cucumbers and lemon cucumbers started. One of each in that pot might work well. I’d put marigolds in the pots to help ward off the bugs.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“I can either bring them to you or Fred can pick you up on his way and you can come for lunch.”
“Lunch. You know me, I never turn down food.” Amalia reached out and slid her door to the deck open.
“Are your sweet peas blooming?”
“Yes, they are scenting my whole apartment now that the door is open. Any idea when Fred will be here?”
“Soon.”
“’Kay, tell him I’ll meet him at the side door.” Amalia clicked off and stepped out on the deck to sit down in the one chair in the shade. Mornings like this made waking up a delight. She’d already had her breakfast sitting at the round metal table, with bright floral cushions
on the teal chairs to match the table.
Jehoshaphat came wandering disdainfully out onto the deck and flopped down beside her chair. His ragged ear tipped toward her, the only acknowledgment he made of her presence. He raised his ragged gray head to sniff and look about. A hummingbird swooped into the feeder. The cat gave it a passing glance and settled onto his belly, his paws tucked under his chest.
Amalia had been afraid the first time he came out on the deck that he might leap up on the rail and escape. Were he to get out into the world, he would die quickly, unable to hunt or defend himself, because Ima had never allowed him out of the house. For his own good. But no problem. He was too old and too arthritic to jump up on a chair, let alone the rail.
On days like today, she missed her yard and garden at the farm so badly she had to breathe carefully. Yes, moving here had a been a wise choice, yes, she was pleased most of the time, but with no grass to go barefoot in, no chickens clucking, birds singing in her trees, somehow digging in her pots did not equal digging in the earth. She had yet to find angle worms in the pots. Her garden soil had been full of worms and compost and years of loving care. Perhaps she should dig some out at Ginny’s, just for the good of her pots, of course.
Memories flooded her of raising her two daughters and one son to appreciate homegrown fruit and vegetables, and eggs from their hens, the beauty of God’s amazing earth, and that if you wanted to eat, you had to do the work. And now they were all living too far away to have daily or even weekly visits. Thank God for the Internet so they could all keep in touch, even if it was not face-to-face. True, the kids had invited her to live with them, but so far, she had resisted.
Her youngest lived in an apartment out in Seattle. She didn’t mind the rain but Amalia shuddered at the thought of all the gray days. The son lived in Madison now, and who wanted to ride a bike in a busy city like that? And Marie…no. Just no. There would be too much friction.
Marie still harbored hard feelings about her selling the homestead. Not that relatives had homesteaded the land or anything, but somehow through the years, “the homestead” stuck. This was the second year Marie’s girls could not come spend summer weeks with Grandma on the farm.
A grumble snort caught her attention. She glanced down to see the now-relaxed cat beside her.
“I know, Jehoshaphat, my mind took off all by its lonesome. Got sad news for you—time for me to get myself downstairs to meet Fred. You behave yourself, hear?” She picked up the monster-sized cat, set him on the sofa back in the living room after closing the screen, debated closing the sliding door, and opted for the fresh air instead.
Picking up her basket, which held her cell phone, her current ball of yarn to add rows to the lap robe for the senior center, the recipe she’d promised Ginny, her sunglasses, the small pack of licorice for Fred, biscuits for Spook, and her ever-present bottle of water, she bade Jehoshaphat behave himself and clicked the door behind her. She had made sure she had the door key in her pocket, just like she automatically lifted the current hat from the rack beside the door and clamped it on her head. That the doors locked automatically was not a selling feature to her. Hers was propped open with a painted rock most of the time she was home.
“Attractive hat,” Fred said by way of greeting as he held the truck door open for Amalia.
“Thank you, kind sir. Nothing like an immediate change of plans, eh?”
“You know, you are not a change of plans, but family.” He went around the front of the truck, shaking his head as he climbed in. “You’d think I never washed this the way the bugs are sticking to the grill.”
“Aww, face it, that’s your way of decimating the blooming bug population. That’s one thing Wisconsin grows well, bugs.” She dug in the basket on her lap and handed him his licorice. “Hard to find the good stuff, other than at the Scandinavian store.”
“I just don’t understand how Ginny cannot like licorice.” He backed up the truck and waited to turn on to the street. “You need to stop anywhere?”
“Nope. Did you go over and help Jeff with his peapod?”
“I did. Still a lot of work to do on it, but he hopes to sail it this summer. Better be a long summer.”
She chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “How’s Sam doing with his end-of-school craziness?”
“Counting the days.”
“I have a project for him when he has time.”
“Has time?”
“I know, poor wording. When he can take time.”
“He promised Erica and the twins that they would hightail it up to the lake for a couple of days the first week off before beginning the summer madness.” Fred turned onto the road to their place.
“I thought summer was supposed to be relaxing in the sun with a good book, swimming, fishing, you know, those kinds of things.”
He snorted. “Right. Gardening, canning, freezing, landscaping, helping Grandma and Grandpa, playing ball, attending ball games.”
“And completing UFOs.”
“That too. I think we need to do a christening when that peapod is finished. Be a good reason to celebrate.”
“And Daryl’s kayak. You think he’ll ever use it?”
“Hard telling.”
Spook waited for them in the middle of the driveway, announcing their arrival.
“He figured he should go along but at least he doesn’t pack a grudge. Ginny is in the greenhouse, I ’spect.”
Spook greeted Amalia with his usual exuberance, sniffing at her basket, his doggy grin making her smile too.
“You crazy dog. You know I always have something for you.” She pulled out the paper-towel-wrapped doggy biscuits. “Ah-ah, you know the rules.” She held them until he parked his hindquarters in front of her, then she flipped him the first one. “Sorry, poor toss, but you got it.” As soon as he’d crunched that one, he sat down again, barely controlling the wriggling. He caught that one on a flying leap. “You are quite the athlete.” She headed for the greenhouse, stopping to admire the newly transplanted starts. “My word, Ginny,” she remarked from the entrance, “You have enough to provide for half the county.”
“I know. Would rather have too many than not enough.” Ginny beckoned Amalia into the richly fragranced, humid air. “Come see my latest babies.” She motioned to a flat of seedlings. “Got these seeds from a seed swap. I gave some of my crocosmia bulbs and got these. The swap is for seeds we harvest from our own plants. Always a gamble but fun.”
“These are?”
“Snapdragons. Talk about tiny. I had to sprinkle them on white paper and brush them onto the flat with a soft brush. Almost needs a microscope, but they sprouted.”
“Hey, you promised us lunch when we got here,” Fred called from the garage.
“Coming,” Ginny called back. “Hope you feel like grilled ham and cheese sandwiches. I have a lettuce salad too, you know, with that yummy dressing I got from old Mrs. York. Be ready as soon as the griddle heats up. All we have to do is pour the dressing on the lettuce. I love new lettuce like this.” She unsnapped her apron and hooked it on the post by the door, leaving her gloves in the pocket.
Fred escorted them inside. “You want to take some eggs when you go?”
Amalia nodded. “I can always use more eggs. Made a frittata the other day with leftover ham, green onions, and asparagus. Reminded me how much I miss my garden out on the farm.”
Ginny snorted. “Fred will grow enough vegetables to feed half the congregation, and that is after we and Sam get all we can use. Of course, Sam has his garden too.”
Amalia put her basket on the counter. “You want some help with canning this year, I will gladly volunteer. No sense canning for one. I couldn’t resist strawberry freezer jam, however. Gave small containers away at the home.”
“And they thought you’d given them gold.” Ginny washed her hands at the kitchen sink after turning the dial on the rectangular electric griddle. “Hand me that platter of sandwiches on the bottom shelf, please.”
Fred s
aid grace a few minutes later when they sat down to eat. “Now, help yourself, Ginny made enough for two teenage boys.” He passed her the platter.
Amalia took one bite and closed her eyes in bliss. “Homemade bread.”
“I felt a need to make bread yesterday. Now I promised Fred I would make cinnamon rolls for breakfast one of these day.”
Fred hinted very broadly, “Tomorrow would be a good time. You could keep some of the dough and make fry bread for the twins. They’ll be here for the weekend.”
“I hope you realize how lucky you are to have the grands so close.” And a house big enough for company. She thought of the times her little ones had come to the farm until they moved away—and she sold the farm. Children could visit her at the home but not for long. Rules forbade anyone from moving their families in to stay with them.
Now it was easier for her to go visit them.
Amalia caught a pained look on Fred’s face. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just gas. I forget and eat too fast. All Ginny’s fault.”
“My fault? How did that get to be my fault?”
“You’re too good a cook, that’s how.” Amalia shook her head. “I could see that one coming.” A movement out the big window caught her attention. “There he is again.”
Fred shoved back his chair and headed for the door. “Dang varmint. Dad-blasted squirrel.” He muttered imprecations as he grabbed the broom handle and brandished it.
The squirrel was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m not sure who has the most fun, Fred or the squirrel.”
“The squirrel by a long shot. He was thumbing his nose when I saw him. Acknowledged by a squirrel. Fred is some privileged.” Amalia raised her glass in salute.
“We could take our iced tea outside and watch the birds. Let Fred dish up the ice cream; he made it last night. Still have a few of Addy’s cookies too. I hid a couple of containers in the freezer.”
Amalia groaned. “You should have warned me. Let me clear the table first.”
“Fred’s turn.”
“So I can give Fred a break.”
“You know him, he likes the dishes just so in the dishwasher. He wants to take care of dishes, I let him.” She slid the glass door open. “Oh look, the grosbeaks are here.”
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