Aggie says: Well, now what about house size. I’ve been looking for houses that are about the same size as this place. The deed lists it as a 6523 sq. ft. But I am thinking… this is a lot of house to clean. I’ve seen three bedroom houses with about 1300-1500 sq. ft. and if I took the smallest room, gave the girls a master bedroom, and let the boys have the other bedroom… with them gone at school most of the time it’d be less work, don’t you think?
Tina says: Well, hmm. There are a few things to consider. Lower sq. ft. is less to clean, but when summer comes, you’d have a lot of people in the house all day, which means a lot of messes and no room for them to disappear to. Not to mention they are only going to get BIGGER and take up more space just by existing.
Aggie says: True.
Tina says: But with a lower sq. ft., home taxes and insurance are usually cheaper and maintenance is easier…
Aggie says: Oh, boy. I have no idea what to do. I like less to worry about… with everyone close together, we wouldn’t end up getting “lost in our own little worlds” as much as they seem to here.
Tina says: Well, a smaller house would make that easier, but I think that’s a matter of training and careful planning. It might even have something to do with how you arrange the house.
Aggie says: Well, I am glad I spoke to you… but you aren’t helping me on size!
Tina says: Well, for what it’s worth, I think I’d get something close to the same size. For one thing, the children are accustomed to the room, and I think you’d get less grief from Grandmother Dear if you don’t put them in something “too small.”
Aggie says: OH, RIGHT. HER. You have a point. We’ll stick with large and hire a “mother’s helper” if I need to.
Tina says: Excellent idea!
Aggie says: Thanks girl, I’m off to find a house. See you later.
Aggie closed the messenger window and changed the search area to cover the entire state. Suddenly, she had the choice between hundreds of homes in various cities around the state. First, she narrowed those in the right size by price and then removed centrally located from possible search options. It was amazing how detailed the search could be. Horse property, swimming pool, and gas vs. electrical furnaces, stoves, and dryers were a few of the hundreds of options the site offered.
By the time Aggie weeded through fifty homes, she had two houses that looked somewhat promising. She was tempted to continue her treasure hunt, but she sensed something was wrong. A glance around the room proved unhelpful. Ian snoozed in his playpen surrounded by shredded paper, giving him the appearance of a guinea pig in a cage. Aggie smiled, until she realized what disturbed her. The silence was almost deafening. She’d never understood what that meant until she could hear every breath, rustle, click, and the steady hum of the refrigerator.
“Cari? Lorna?” Aggie called up the stairs and out the door. She charged down to the basement, and then up the stairs into forbidden rooms. A quick glance at Ian showed his downy head still nestled amid the colorful paper shreds, as his chest rose and fell in a soporific rhythmic cadence. Nearly frantic, Aggie dashed out the front door and around the side yard to the back corner where she was sure she’d find the twins climbing over the swing set. The play area was empty. The swings barely moved in the breeze. Just as Aggie thought it couldn’t look any bleaker, the sun dipped behind the clouds, leaving an ominous feel to the air. The temperature dropped, and Aggie shivered.
The sound of a school bus rounding the corner caught Aggie’s attention. Before the yellow loaf of bread on wheels stopped, Aggie saw two blonde girls climbing over a fence, fists full of tulips with the bulbs dangling from the bottoms. She started to call out to them, but several shrieks from several directions created a cacophony that struck her silent.
The twins, seeing Kenzie descending the steps of the bus, jumped up and down, their delighted squeals piercing the air. Kenzie, just old enough to realize that the twins should not be alone at the bus stop half a block from home, screeched, “What are you doing here?”
This would have been pandemonium enough, but the owner of the fenced yard recently exited by Cari and Lorna, dashed down her walkway screaming something about antique tulips and hooligans. Aggie bolted down the street. The twins wailed as the irate woman screamed at them and tried to take the flowers from their tight little fists.
Kenzie chased the little girls away from the angry horticulturist as Aggie tried to apologize. “Just get me my bulbs before they destroy them, and then keep them away from my garden. Those bulbs were over thirty-dollars apiece, and they have handfuls!”
As Aggie assured her that she’d make complete restitution for the twins’ thievery, the twins showed Kenzie the “bowcakes” that they picked for her. Cari looked at the flowers with a critical eye. “These rocks are ugly. Take the rocks off, Worna!”
The three little girls tore the bulbs from the stems of the tulips and tossed them into the street. Aggie saw the movement from the corner of her eye and shouted “Nooooooooo,” but it was too late. The bus, just pulling away from the curb after the last student stepped onto the sidewalk, crushed the bulbs beneath its massive wheels as it drove down the street and around the corner.
It took Aggie several minutes to assure the woman that she would replace the bulbs, to try to make Lorna and Cari apologize, and get back home before Ian awoke and chose that day to learn to climb from his playpen. Lorna cooperated and apologized with sincere penitence in her voice, but Aggie could do nothing to coax, bribe, or threaten Cari into an apology.
“I’ll be back with a check, and she’ll have to apologize at some point. I’m very sorry.”
Lynn Wilston gave Aggie a disgusted look before returning to her house. At the door, she turned back and called after Aggie, “I know Alanna Stuart’s lawyer, and I will call Robert Moss myself if I do not have a check for four hundred fifty dollars by Friday at noon. I wonder what Geraldine will have to say about this.”
Aggie led the three children toward home with a dejected droop to her shoulders and her steps dragging in despair. She wasn’t bothered by the twins’ mischief. Being so young, they didn’t understand the wrong they’d done. Even repentant Lorna was sorry only because she knew she’d upset Aggie. The idea that the girls could leave the house, walk over half a block away, climb over a fence, pick a dozen or more flowers, and hop the fence once more before Aggie noticed they were missing and found them, scared her.
“Aunt Aggie? Where is Ian?”
She’d ignored most of Kenzie’s prattle about school as they shuffled home but the mention of Ian snapped Aggie to the present. “Run, girls!” In her struggle to extract an apology from Cari, she’d forgotten about the baby.
Grabbing the twins’ hands, she pulled them along beside her, their feet barely touching the ground as they tried to keep up with their crazed aunt. Kenzie, seeing the look of panic on Aggie’s face, dashed ahead, bursting through the front door and shouting for Ian. Pandemonium surfaced again as the baby, startled from his sleep, screamed in terror.
Aggie collapsed in an under-padded wing back chair, held the wailing baby, and cried.
Saturday, March 16th
After over a week of diligent and exhausting house searching, things were looking dismal. It seemed as though there wasn’t a house in existence to suit her unique family, and Aggie was beginning to feel desperate. Thus far, her shopping experiences, even for her convertible and the van, had been swift and painless. To Aggie, a week searching was tantamount to a lifetime. She’d understood that this motherhood experience was going to bring about the patience that her parents always encouraged her to cultivate. She’d always ignored the suggestion, but Aggie now saw the wisdom of it.
A look of excitement crossed her features, and Aggie dashed out to the back of her new van. Writing on her palm with a pink pen, she jogged back into the house and to the phone. Praying that Zeke was at work today, Aggie dialed the number for the car lot.
“May I speak to Zeke please?” Aggie’s voice so
unded much calmer than she felt. By the time Zeke came on the line, Aggie felt decidedly foolish. Zeke was a car salesman, not a realtor.
“Zeke, this is Aggie Milliken again. I have a silly question for you. Do you mind humoring me?” Zeke’s familiar chuckle was music to her ears. “Yes, the van’s running great, this is about a house. Do you know of any fairly large homes for sale?”
“Well, missy, I have to admit, I do know of a house that’s big enough for your little clan. Do you know how to get to Brant’s Corners? It’s just across the highway from Brunswick, off Highway 32.” Aggie shook her head and then realized Zeke was still waiting for an answer.
“No, actually, I don’t, but I am very good with directions. Can you tell me how to get there? Do you know what the owners are asking for the house?”
“Well, the house hasn’t been lived in for years. The county just put it on the market last week for back taxes. So far, there haven’t been any bites that we’ve heard of, because it needs so much work.”
Aggie demurred. “Oh, Zeke, I can’t afford the time and expense of refurbishing a house. What if it wasn’t safe? I have to think of the children.”
“Oh, no, missy. The house is structurally sound. Our Luke went out there and looked it over when they listed it in the paper. He said it looks worse than it is. It just needs cosmetic changes and minor repairs. There isn’t anything unsafe about it.
“My nephew, Luke, likes to flip houses. You know, when you fix up places and either rent them out or sell them at a profit? He wanted this one, but he’s stretched a little thin right now. He bought another place on the other side of town just before the county put this one up. He was disappointed that he couldn’t buy it-- such a nice place and all.”
Still unconvinced, Aggie hesitated. “I don’t know Zeke. I mean, I have eight children to care for, and the last thing I need right now is more work. Any house I buy needs to be safe and practical for our family. I’m not sure I am prepared for the time, expense, and hassle of a ‘fixer-upper.’”
Zeke tried again. “Missy, how about you and I go out there? I’ll show you around and give you an idea what the place would need to be livable. You might be able to get it before spring is over, and you’d have all summer to get it refurbished. I think you could have it all fixed up and be settled by winter if you found the right handy man.”
She felt bad about being difficult when she’d asked for the elderly man’s help, so Aggie agreed to see the house. She arranged for a sitter with one of the names on her volunteer list, and a couple of hours later, Aggie and Zeke zipped down the highway between Brant’s Corners and Rockland. Before long, they pulled into an overgrown circular dirt driveway.
“Here we are, missy. Pretty place, isn’t it? Those trees are a hundred years old, but the house is near about fifty. They had a nasty fire back in the forties and didn’t rebuild for almost ten years. Those oaks made it through the fire beautifully, though; didn’t they?”
Aggie sat, hands wrapped around the steering wheel, and stared in silence. Before her, in all its decrepit glory, was the house of her dreams. Built like a cross between an old farmhouse and a Victorian mausoleum, it had a “turret” on one side and a lovely bay window on the other. A railed porch curved around the front of the turret, wrapping it gently like a blanket. Broken lattice ran along the front of the house, below the porch, and left the effect of broken teeth in a much-neglected mouth. The picture tugged at Aggie’s heart and reminded her of her English classes where they’d dissected Edgar Allen Poe and his poems. She wanted to restore the home’s dignity and beauty and hear her children’s laughter ring from its windows.
The oaks Zeke spoke of were huge sprawling trees that almost completely hid the house from the road. On one side, an orchard of fruit trees, covered in buds, almost entirely blocked the view of the highway. With a tall fence running along the road, the children would be safe from passing cars. The back of the property showed both the most neglect and the most promise. There was room for a huge garden, a massive play area, and beyond that, a meadow for horses.
Dilapidated stalls and an abandoned barn stood in the far corner of the property, waiting to house new equine friends.
The back door was unlocked, much to their delight, and it took very little time for Zeke and Aggie to explore the basement, the attic, full of exciting treasures, and all the bedrooms. Skepticism filled her heart at the dank odor that permeated every room. Although Zeke assured her that the plumbing was sound, the wiring, although inadequate, was safe, and the foundation secure, she wondered if paint could kill the scents of age and decay. He admitted that he hadn’t inspected the roof but said he remembered his nephew saying that it wouldn’t need replacing for a few years.
Aggie, having kept a mental tally running as she examined the property, was certain she could not afford both the house and the repairs it would require. Prepared to admit it was beyond her budget, she asked for the amount in back taxes. Zeke’s reply astounded her. For one-third the cost of comparable houses near the current Stuart home, Aggie could purchase this one. The sale of their house could finance the repairs and furnishing of the new home. She could do this!
Aggie returned home and phoned Mr. Moss with the details. “Can you take care of the purchase of that house and submit a reasonable offer to sell this house to the Stuarts?”
* * *
Cari and Lorna dashed through the room, decorating it with toilet paper. Aggie took up the chase, trying to prevent the TP’ing of the house. Exasperated, Aggie called “Stop,” and both little girls paused-- stunned at Aggie’s tone. Desperate for a little order, Aggie called all the children into the house and explained that for safety and sanity, she was instituting her first hard and fast rule. Anytime they heard the Aggie say the word “stop,” they were to freeze as if they were playing freeze tag.
Following the incident with the toilet paper, Aggie decided to have one of the twins’ hair styled in a nice pixie, so she could tell the difference between the girls. After weeks of trying daily, and years of visits, she still hadn’t been able to differentiate between the two, very identical, twins. It was time to change all that.
With Vannie’s help, Aggie figured out which girl was Lorna and drove them all to Allie’s favorite hair salon. Lorna was getting a pretty pixie cut, and Aggie was going to regain at least a small fraction of her former sanity. Cari cried and wailed as Lorna’s snipped curls fell to the floor. Aggie tried to comfort her, but keeping seven children from taking up all the waiting space and creating mayhem at the same time was more than enough for her abilities.
Sunday, March 17th
Aggie awoke to a mess. She spied wisps of hair scattered from here to there and everywhere in between. Groggily, she followed the trail and to her dismay, found a very scraggily looking Cari. The now shaggy twin wandered aimlessly through the house whacking off hair as her hand found uncut patches on her head. Aggie stole quietly behind the child and tried not to scare her into an unfortunate whack that would surely make things worse.
“I’ll take those,” Aggie said, as she pulled the scissors from Cari’s overly creative hands. “What do you think you are doing?” Aggie’s words were stern and low.
It took every ounce of self-control not to scream at the child. Cari’s beautiful curls were gone. Her hair looked like one of those freakish teen styles that fill parents’ hearts with dread. She also didn’t know what to do. If she took the child to get the mess corrected, she’d not know how to tell the two girls apart again. Regardless of the quandary, she had to do something! The child looked frightful!
“I wook wike Worna.” Cari’s voice broke through to Aggie’s thoughts.
“What, honey?”
“Wins ‘posed to wook a same. I wook wike Worna.” Cari’s tone was both defiant and emphatic.
“Aunt Aggie?” Vannie’s voice interrupted Aggie’s attempt to extricate logic from Cari’s announcement.
“Yes, Vannie? What is it?” Resignation crept into Aggie’s
voice. She was clueless about how to handle this situation. Clearly, Cari knew it was wrong to cut her hair. The child’s face scowling up at her, the piles of hair, and the scissors in her hand were a silent, glaring testimony of Cari’s defiance.
“Can I talk to you?” Vannie sounded hesitant, yet serious. Aggie left Cari with stern instructions not to move and followed Vannie to the bathroom.
“Do you know something I should know?”
Vannie, after a hesitant start, shared her concerns at the amount of defiance that Cari, and even Kenzie, had shown in recent weeks. “Aunt Aggie, Cari knows! I know she’s little, but she knows. Momma made it very plain that they are not to touch scissors ever. She would not have done this if Momma were here.” Vannie’s voice caught, but she forced herself to continue. “I think Cari knows that you don’t know they’re not allowed to touch the scissors, and that’s why she did it anyway. I overheard her tell Lorna that she’d ‘fix her hair’ last night, but I didn’t understand what she meant.”
Vannie paused, and then spoke before Aggie could respond. “Aunt Aggie, I really think she needs you to give her a spanking. I don’t mean to tell you what to do or anything. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, honest, but I know Cari. I think she thinks she can push you around.” Aggie started to speak but Vannie wasn’t finished. “She tried it with Grandma Millie a few months ago, and Mom had Grandma spank her for it. She hasn’t given Grandma any trouble since. Cari’s just one of those children who needs to know who is in charge, or she’ll take over.”
Vannie’s eyes pleaded for understanding. After reassuring the girl that she’d done the right thing, Aggie sent Vannie downstairs to play with Ian. Minutes later, a weeping and penitent Cari hugged her and apologized. “I be’ave. I pwomise!”
Aggie gave the child an extra squeeze and sent her downstairs. She returned to her room, closed the door, flung herself across the bed as she’d done so many times when she was a teen, and sobbed. She wasn’t prepared for the heartbreak of parenting any more than she’d been prepared for the work of running a home. She remembered the tearful eyes of her father as he assured her, “This will hurt me more than it hurts you.” As a child, she’d been insulted. She wasn’t stupid. She knew it didn’t hurt him at all! How wrong she was. Aggie added another mental note to her ever-growing “to-do list.” “Call Dad, thank him, and apologize for doubting him.”
Ready or Not (Aggie's Inheritance) Page 5
