Aunt Ivy's Cottage: A totally gripping and emotional page turner

by Kristin Harper

  “Upset with me, you mean. Because I wasn’t here.” When Nick gave a small nod, Zoey sighed. “What did he say?”

  Nick winced. “I’d tell you but I was raised not to talk like that.”

  “Ha!” What else could Zoey do but laugh? “You know, in most families, a person would be worried if his cousin suddenly went missing. And they’d be grateful that someone like you was there to help his aunt. But not Marcus Winslow, the Third. I’m really sorry you had to listen to him go off like that.”

  “It’s okay. I interrupted his little, uh, invective, by telling him you’d give him a call when you returned and then I hung up.” Nick grinned. “How did the interview go?”

  “Pretty well, I think. They said they’d be inviting a couple applicants back for a second round of interviews in a week or two, so I hope I’m one of them. How about you, how have you been?”

  “Good. Busy. This week I’ve got two projects going. A deck I’m building at a cottage in Highland Hills. And a bathroom renovation—that one’s in Lucinda’s Hamlet. So I’m looking at some pretty tight deadlines.”

  Zoey realized she should stop yakking so he could leave but his eyes were so mesmerizing she couldn’t seem to move or look away. “I suppose that’s what you get for being the bluest contractor on the island.”

  “The bluest?”

  “I meant the blest. The best,” Zoey bumbled. Embarrassed that it must have been obvious she’d been thinking of his eyes, she abruptly started walking toward the house, calling, “See you on Sunday. We’ll probably eat around six or six-thirty but feel free to come over any time after five.”

  “Thanks. Hey, Zoey?”

  She stopped. “Yeah?”

  “Aren’t you going to move your car so I can get out?”

  “Ack. Where is my head today?” she asked, much like her aunt would do. I’d better be careful or else Mark is going to try to move me into an assisted living facility, she thought as she backed out of the driveway.

  While Zoey and her aunt ate lunch, Ivy kept apologizing for her memory lapse.

  “It’s completely understandable—you had a rough evening yesterday and you’re overly tired. You’ll feel better and think more clearly after you’ve caught up on your rest.” Or so Zoey hoped. She didn’t want to make too big of a deal over her aunt not remembering where she’d gone, but neither did she want to chalk up her forgetfulness to distress or distraction if there was something more serious at play. It might be worth it for her to ask her doctor to evaluate her memory the next time she has her annual physical, she thought.

  Ivy agreed a nap was a good idea so Zoey assisted her to her room, telling her, “I’m not used to getting up so early. I feel sleepy, too.”

  Her aunt patted the bed. “Here, lie down next to me.”

  Zoey figured she’d stretch out for a few minutes until her aunt fell asleep and then she’d go email the library staff, thanking them for the interview.

  Instead of dozing, Ivy continued to fuss. “I’m such a burden. First to Sylvia—she was always helping me, you know. With Marcus and my father. Then she nursed me back to health when I had cancer. And until she got pneumonia, she’d been doing the lion’s share of the work around here. I relied on her too much, just like I’m relying too heavily on you now.”

  Zoey propped herself up on her elbows so she could meet her aunt’s eyes as she replied, “Aunt Ivy, you helped Aunt Sylvia just as much as she helped you. You took her into your home when she had nowhere else to go. You loved her like a sister and you helped her raise her son. And to some extent, her grandson. You’ve nurtured me, too, by being a constant, loving presence in my life. By sharing your heart and your humor and your home. Most of my best, most fun memories are of being here with you and Aunt Sylvia and my mom and sister. And I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been able to come to the island over the years to be refreshed and get my head together. So whatever little bit of help I can give you now pales in comparison to all you’ve given me.”

  Quite unexpectedly, a sob escaped her lips. She covered her mouth but her aunt had already heard it. She squeezed Zoey’s other hand. “That’s one of the loveliest things anyone has ever said to me, but don’t cry, dear, or I’ll start up again, too.”

  A few more tears fell after Zoey laid her head back against the pillow and watched the leafy shadows dance across the curtain. “Ignore me. I’m just releasing pent-up stress now that my interview is over.” Intermittently wiping her face on the sleeve of her blouse, she told her aunt about the position and how much she liked the library director and the other staff members. “I think I have a good shot at getting a second interview, but I can’t count on it. There are more applicants than I expected.”

  “Oh, you poor kids. The workplace is so competitive, I’m surprised you don’t all have ulcers. Mark is stressed about securing a new position, too. To think, in the past six months his marriage fell apart and then he lost his job and now it looks as if his ex-wife will get the house.”

  Zoey stopped crying to ask, “Mark is unemployed, too?” And what’s this about him losing his house? That would explain his sudden urgency to push Aunt Ivy out of hers.

  “Uh-oh. I thought you knew. Please don’t tell him I told you.”

  “I won’t,” Zoey promised.

  “I keep telling him he’s going to make himself sick. That he shouldn’t worry so much because even if his ex-wife takes the house, he can always live with me. But he says Hope Haven is no place for a traveling sales rep, since most of his clients would be off-island. It would be too inconvenient to have to travel back and forth by ferry every day.”

  I’m glad for that, Zoey thought. She was even gladder her aunt had invited Mark to live with her because it meant she wasn’t considering forfeiting the house to him any time soon.

  “I wish I had a way to help him.” Her aunt sighed.

  “Mark is very resourceful. Very tenacious. He’s not going to give up his house without a fight. And he’ll find a job again soon—he always does. But if not, you’ve already told him he could come here to live. So it’s not as if he’s going to be homeless.”

  “I should say not!” Ivy rubbed her eyes. “But you know, I think that’s what my sister-in-law was afraid could happen. She was too ill to discuss it with me, but when she found out Mark’s ex-wife might get the house, she was terribly distraught. Sometimes I’d hear her mumbling about it in her sleep. Saying it just wasn’t right.”

  Zoey recalled that on the last day of Sylvia’s life, her great-aunt had made a similar remark to her, too. “It’s not fair… That boy can only take so much.” Zoey couldn’t agree that Mark was being unduly victimized, but she appreciated why his grandmother’s love or guilt or fear might have colored her perspective. And to be fair, Sylvia had sounded equally concerned about Zoey losing her job and savings. What was it she’d said? Something like, “What about Zoey? She’s such a dear girl… Where will she live?”

  As she recalled that some of her great-aunt’s final thoughts were about her well-being, Zoey felt like crying again. She reassured Ivy that Mark would land on his feet and then she quickly changed the subject. “I’ve been meaning to ask you if you noticed whether there was anything going on between Gabi and Aidan?”

  “They’re friends, if that’s what you mean but there’s nothing romantic between them.”

  She turned her head to face her aunt, who didn’t seem half as sleepy as Zoey felt. “Gabi told you that?”

  “She didn’t have to. I gleaned it from how they played cribbage as partners.”

  Zoey tittered. “Love isn’t in the cards for them, is that what you’re saying?”

  Her aunt missed the pun, replying earnestly, “No, it isn’t. They’re both bright but she was so focused on helping him learn the game that she wasn’t playing her best. There’s a time to help, but she overdid it. And he didn’t mind because he wasn’t trying to impress her. Otherwise he would have made more of an effort. They enjoy each other’s
company, but they’re like siblings. Nothing more.”

  As confident as Ivy sounded, Zoey wasn’t sure she agreed with her aunt’s appraisal. “You got all that from a card game?”

  “Yes. Now let me tell you what I observed about you and Nick.”

  “No. Please don’t.”

  Her aunt ignored her. “As far as whether the two of you will wind up together, it’s hard to say. There’s definitely a spark. But I noticed you didn’t seem to trust him to make the right move. Every time it was his turn to play a card, you held your breath.”

  That’s because the last time I didn’t watch what someone was doing, he cleaned out my retirement account. “What can I say? I wanted to win—I’m competitive.”

  “My dear girl, you even did it when you weren’t on the same team.”

  Zoey chuckled, in spite of herself. “What did you notice about Nick?”

  “He shuffles too long.”

  “That’s it? His shuffling? What’s that got to do with anything?” Especially with whether or not he and I would make a good couple.

  “Think about it.” Ivy tapped her head knowingly. “The longer you take to shuffle, the longer it takes to get in the game. Meanwhile, the other players get restless. They lose interest.”

  She’s forcing that metaphor, Zoey thought. Yet she had to admit, she had been disappointed that until today, she hadn’t heard from Nick all week. Despite her blunder, they’d hit it off so well on Saturday, that even though she’d supposedly sworn off dating until the fall she had kind of hoped he’d ask her out. Or at least make some excuse to touch base with her. Was this him procrastinating, as Ivy indicated? Or wasn’t he as interested in her as Zoey was becoming in him?

  She wanted her aunt to do an assessment of one more pair of partners. But who? Not her mother and father. Although on occasion they’d indulge Ivy and Sylvia in a game, they both hated cribbage and would slap down any card just to get the hand over as quickly as possible. Zoey was already painfully aware of the similarity between how they’d partnered in cards and how they’d partnered in marriage.

  “What did you see about my sister and Scott’s relationship when they played cards?” she whispered because Ivy’s eyes were closed and she didn’t know if she was sleeping.

  “Scott and Jess? Now they were a good pair. You wouldn’t have thought so because he could be so conservative and she was so daring. But there was a give and take between them and it all evened out.” Ivy’s voice was so soft Zoey hardly heard her mumble, “As soon as I saw them playing cribbage—they weren’t married yet—I told Sylvia, ‘Mark my words. Their union will last a lifetime.’”

  The ironic accuracy of her aunt’s statement socked Zoey right in the chest and she barely managed to choke back another sob. If a benign remark about Jess can reduce me to tears six years after she died, how can I expect Aunt Ivy to be okay by autumn? she worried, as sleep overtook her.

  Zoey had fallen into such a deep slumber that Ivy had to wake her for supper instead of the other way around. By then she remembered she still hadn’t called Mark—she hadn’t turned on her phone, for that matter. But she put it off until after she’d eaten and done the dishes. And then Gabi returned home and she chatted with her about Nick and Aidan coming for supper on Sunday evening.

  “Can I invite Amy and Connor, too?”

  Zoey was secretly delighted that she’d finally get to meet some of Gabi’s friends, but she played it cool. “Sure, as long as it’s okay with Aunt Ivy.”

  When she couldn’t postpone it any longer, she took her phone to her room and powered it up, discovering that Mark had left her a long text and three messages. She didn’t bother to read or listen to them, since she figured she’d get an earful when she called him anyway. Even on a good day, she could only tolerate so many of Mark’s diatribes.

  “It’s about time,” he snarled by way of greeting. “Where were you?”

  “Eating supper in the kitchen.” Zoey hadn’t intended to sound so derisive but Mark’s demanding tone immediately sent her off.

  “You know what I meant. Where were you when Ivy was practically having a heart attack?”

  “She wasn’t practically having a heart attack. She has chronic chest pain. It’s called angina, for future reference. Her cardiologist has been monitoring it and he prescribed nitro pills. As soon as she took one, she was fine. I’m sorry if you were alarmed but it wasn’t a big deal.”

  Why am I apologizing? You weren’t alarmed. By the time you called Nick back, Ivy was fine and the pseudo emergency was over, Zoey wanted to say, but didn’t. Furthermore, I could have sworn I told you about her angina before.

  “Not a big deal? Then why did the handyman call me in a panic?” Before Zoey could respond, he repeated. “You still haven’t answered my question—where were you?”

  Maybe it was his reference to Nick as “the handyman” or just his controlling, condescending attitude in general, but Zoey shot back, “I’m not under house arrest and you’re not my jailer. But for your information, I had an important interview in Providence.” She hadn’t meant to let that last part slip but sometimes when Mark affronted her, she spoke faster than she thought.

  “A job interview? Are you unemployed?” He sounded incredibly disdainful for someone who didn’t have a job himself. “All this time I thought you’d taken a leave from your position because you cared so much about Ivy and Sylvia—”

  “That’s exactly why I came here,” Zoey interrupted. “My library branch just so happened to close at around the same time Aunt Sylvia came down with pneumonia. It was either I came here to help or she would have had to recover in a rehab center off-island because Aunt Ivy couldn’t have given her the kind of care she needed.”

  “What a coincidence. Are you sure the real reason you’re there isn’t so you can save on living costs in Providence?” Mark jeered. “Do you even have your apartment any more?”

  Zoey had to bite her tongue to keep from asking if he was talking to her or to the mirror. Lucky for you I promised Aunt Ivy I wouldn’t say I knew anything about your situation, she thought.

  “It’s a townhome and yes, I still own it. Thanks for inquiring about my welfare. And hey, thanks for checking up on Aunt Ivy later this afternoon—oh, wait. You didn’t, did you?”

  “Don’t act as if I don’t care. I’m not the one who abandoned her for hours without telling her where I was going or how she could reach me.”

  “Are you kidding me? I don’t even go to the back yard without telling Aunt Ivy, first!”

  “So you told her and she forgot?”

  I fell right into that trap, Zoey thought. She’d rather take the blame unjustly than to give her cousin ammunition to imply their aunt wasn’t fit to live alone. “I mentioned it to her but I should have written it down.” Zoey faked a self-deprecating laugh, hoping to lighten the tension. “I can’t even remember my own schedule sometimes, so it’s not fair to expect Aunt Ivy to keep track of it.”

  “What’s not fair is that for some reason you don’t want her to get the help she obviously needs.”

  What part of what I just said about why I came here don’t you understand? Zoey silently fumed. “I am helping her.”

  “What’s she going to do when you leave? Or don’t you ever plan to?”

  “Of course I plan to leave.” Zoey stopped herself before she blurted out that if she got the job, it wouldn’t start until late August. The fewer details Mark had about her schedule, the better. She decided to try to empathize with her cousin. “Listen, Mark. I understand you’re concerned about Aunt Ivy and I am, too. She’s just suffered an enormous loss and she’s not quite herself. I believe it’s temporary. It’s going to be challenging, but eventually she’ll adjust—her background shows how resilient she is. If she doesn’t, we can talk to her about… about making some changes. Meanwhile, I’m here to help. And before I go, I intend to line up resources for her, whether that means additional housekeeping, medical intervention, a social network. Whatev
er she needs, I’ll make sure she has it before I leave.”

  “I don’t get it. What’s in it for you?”

  Only you would have to ask that question. “I love her.”

  “Then why would you put her through this?”

  “I’m not putting her through anything! She’s grieving. It’s a process. I’m trying to support her.”

  Mark was relentless. “By upsetting her like you did today?”

  “That was a miscommunication.”

  “It was a miscommunication that left her in tears and affected her heart. If you hadn’t been here—if you were still living at your own place in Providence, she wouldn’t have been worried about where you were.”

  Zoey hardly knew how to respond to that kind of logic, it was so twisted. “If I weren’t here, she’d have no emotional or physical support.”

  “That’s exactly my point. And that’s why I think she should move to an assisted living facility.”

  “Aunt Ivy doesn’t want to live in a facility. She wants to live in a home. Her home.”

  “What she wants and what she needs are two different things.”

  “You’re not the judge of that.”

  “Neither are you.”

  Aware the conversation was devolving into the kind of “you started it first—no, you did” argument they’d had when they were kids, Zoey said, “I don’t think we’re going to get anywhere talking about this tonight, so why don’t we shelve it until another time and say goodbye for now?”

  Mark disconnected without another word, which was actually the best response Zoey could have hoped to get.

  On Friday evening, Lauren called shortly before supper time to see if Zoey had been invited back for a second interview. To her disappointment, she hadn’t, but she was still hopeful. They chatted for a few minutes about the guy Lauren was going out with for the first time that weekend. Then her friend asked how Zoey was adjusting to living with a teenager.