“Just bring the wine and glasses to the table, thanks,” Marian told her. “Oh, and you can take these salads to the table too.”
Marian had prepared a small pork roast in a savory orange sauce with roasted vegetables along with a salad of torn greens with vinaigrette.
“This is delicious,” Sylvia told her. “I’ve lived on quick meals for so long, that I don’t know how wonderful a home cooked meal tastes. Thank you.”
Marian said. “It’s nice to be able to cook for someone other than myself for a change.”
“How long have you been alone,” Sylvia asked hesitantly, not wanting to be rude. She had lost all memory of what Gran had told her of Marian long ago.
Not offended, Marian answered, “My husband died about two years ago. We were living in England, but I wanted to come home. So, here I am,” she said and made a gesture of raising her hands.
“This is a lovely house,” Sylvia told Marian.
“Yes,” Marian answered, “I love it here. It feels a little large to rattle around in sometimes, but it’s home. Hugh and I spent a lot of time rehabilitating this old place when he taught at State. It holds a lot of happy memories.”
They continued with their dinner in a companionable silence until Marian asked, “What about you? What are your plans?”
Sylvia chuckled a bit sardonically. “I haven’t had any,” she told her. “Gran thinks,” she paused uncomfortably before she corrected herself, “Gran thought I needed to find my path. Mom, on the other hand, wants me to find a job ASAP.”
“What about Sylvia?” Marian asked gently.
Sylvia shrugged, not answering and not really having an answer.
“You won’t have a problem finding a job,” Marian assured her. “Do you have any ideas?”
Sylvia shook her head. She hadn’t a clue so she changed the subject. “This vinaigrette is wonderful! How did you make it?” she asked after she took a bite of the torn greens.
“Oh, just a few herbs from the garden,” Marian told her. “I never know if it will come out right or not. It’s a fun, continuing experiment,” she chuckled.
“I would love to learn how to make it,” Sylvia said.
“Not a problem,” Marian told her and offered. “Why don’t you join me tomorrow to pick up some plants? I know I’ll be picking up herbs as well as flowers to plant. Anyway, it’s going to be too lovely to be indoors and housecleaning,” Marian said.
“All right,” Sylvia agreed, never one to want to keep things as pristine and dust free as her mother did.
Marian served a warm fruit cobbler with ice cream for dessert. Sylvia felt warm and comfortable as they cleaned up and took their coffee out to the terrace. She understood how Gran and Marian had become good friends. After this evening, Sylvia felt as though she had known Marian all of her life.
The early evening light was silvery gray and lilac that hovered like a fine mist. It was light enough to see for a few minutes, but the darkness gathered with the long shadows from the trees blending into the quickening twilight. The trees were dark silhouettes against the sky. Leaves had sprouted on some, but several trees had their budding branches create stark, inky black lines that cut the early evening sky into puzzle like pieces as it deepened from blue to lilac to gray.
“Oh,” Sylvia breathed. “This is lovely.”
“Yes, it is,” Marian agreed. “I love…” she started when the phone rang. “Excuse me,” she said and she trotted to the house.
Sylvia sat, watching the pockets of darkness grow deeper in the forest and spread out into the meadow. Fireflies blinked on and off in the meadow giving her a show. Sylvia leaned her head back and stared at the sky. When a star or two appeared the childhood rhyme of “Star light, star bright” popped into her head. Sylvia chanted it under her breath, but at the end, did not know what to wish for.
“I’m so sorry,” Marian said as she returned to her seat on the terrace interrupting her wish making thoughts. “That was Owen Anderson,” she said. “He’s an old family friend who’s been recently employed by the Thurmont Company and he’ll be spending a few weeks here while he relocates.” Marian slapped at a couple of mosquitoes. “The bugs are beginning to come,” she said. “Let’s go inside.”
“I should be going,” Sylvia said as they returned to the kitchen and placed their coffee cups in the sink. Thank you for a wonderful dinner.”
“You’re very welcome,” Marian told her. “I’ll pick you up in the morning bright and early. Is seven o’clock all right?”
Sylvia nodded in response and gave Marian a quick impulsive hug.
“See you,” she said.
Sylvia drove home to Gran’s house, turning on every light when she entered. Nothing seemed odd about the house and no strange voices or lights were anywhere. Shoring up her courage she walked into the study. The mask was there, and it was just a mask of leaves. She stared at it a moment before sighing with relief that it stayed a leafy mask and turned off the lights and went to bed.
The next morning Sylvia overslept and had to rush to dress before Marian arrived. She had just finished brewing a pot of coffee when Marian knocked at the kitchen door. Sylvia let her in and offered her a cup. Marian accepted and Sylvia poured some coffee for Marian and made café au lait for herself and they both sat at the kitchen table.
“I overslept,” Sylvia admitted as they took a sip.
“I’m in no hurry,” Marian replied. “Take your time. Can I help you with anything?”
“No, “Sylvia said,” But, I would like to get a piece of toast. Can I get you anything?” She asked Marian
“No thank you,” Marian said, “but, I would like to see your GreenMan.”
“Okay,” Sylvia said, putting a slice of toast in the toaster. “He’s in here,” she told Marian motioning to the study and wondering why she said ‘he’ instead of ‘it.’
Marian walked into the study and looked around. Sylvia knew when Marian found the mask because she heard a relieved sigh. She thought she heard, “Good, he’s come back,” but wasn’t sure. Sylvia had been standing in the doorway and she liked the way Marian picked up the mask of leaves reverently. It reminded her of the way her grandmother picked up stones and shells and such. The toaster popped and Sylvia went to put peanut butter on her toast. Marian emerged from the study a moment later.
“Very interesting,” she commented to Sylvia, not saying anything more. “Are you ready?” she asked as Sylvia popped the last bit of toast in her mouth.
Sylvia nodded and turned off the coffeepot and grabbed her purse and house keys.
They drove to a nursery where Marian chose several flats of annuals and several herbs filling her ancient station wagon. On their aromatic ride home, Marian asked Sylvia if she would mind helping her plant some of the plants in her garden.
“Of course,” Sylvia replied. “I’m not much of a gardener, though. You’ll have to show me what to do.”
“It’s quite easy,” Marian chuckled as they pulled into her lane. “You won’t have any trouble learning.”
Marian’s main garden was long and on a small-sloped bank outside of the kitchen. She instructed Sylvia to get tall glasses of ice water for them and sit on the terrace. Meanwhile Marian placed the six packs of colorful annuals where she wanted them planted near the front of the house, some in the kitchen garden and others in a garden near the edge of the property. Marian set small pots of herbs throughout the kitchen garden near the side door of the house. Satisfied with their placement, she went to the shed to get gardening tools.
The day was warm and the air clear of humidity. In fact, it was a perfect spring day with a clear blue sky with only an occasional cloud scudding across its expanse. Everything was green and bright and glowing with an inner light. Marian returned with a trowel and a pair of gloves for each of them and showed Sylvia how she wanted the plants planted. Marian sat down on the grass next to the kitchen garden and went to work. She assigned Sylvia to the planting of the annuals. Sylvia found that she liked taking t
he small plant plugs, separating the roots and placing them in a small hole, and tucking the soil around the new plants. The sun was warm on her back and her grief was replaced by a feeling of joy as she dug, planted and tucked the snap dragons, impatiens, zinnias and marigolds. She planted another little plant around the border of the garden that had hairy, somewhat prickly leaves. Marian told her it kept the deer from eating all of the flowers. Sylvia couldn’t remember what it was, but she liked the colorful little flowers that bloomed in a bunch. She stretched and sighed with pleasure as she saw the growing number of empty flats. The gardens looked lovely.
She glanced up when she heard a car pull onto the gravel driveway with a flourish.
“It’s Owen!” she heard Marian cry happily and watched Marian rush over to greet the visitor. Sylvia assumed that Owen was Marian’s peer and was quite surprised when a much younger man unfolded himself from the car. Unfolded was a correct description. From the brief distance, Owen’s form enveloped Marian’s diminutive form in a bear hug. Marian motioned for her to come over and Sylvia labeled him “geek” in her mind as she saw the glasses and short-sleeved white shirt. She wondered if he had a pocket protector. He was tall and lanky and his hair was a black thatch over rounded black wire rim glasses. When he turned to shake her hand as they were introduced, Sylvia nearly gasped. Behind those glasses were the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen. They were hazel and a meld of green, brown and gold. Although the geek label seemed to fit part of him, she was suddenly conscious of his staggering good looks—a little like a young Gregory Peck.
Suddenly Sylvia felt extremely grungy and was painfully aware of her dirt smeared cut offs and hair escaping her braid. She drew back a step. Self consciously she brushed back a stray hair or two from her face and hoped she didn’t leave a streak of dirt.
Marian smiled at them and after introductions she said, “Sylvia’s been helping me plant my garden this morning.”
“It looks great,” he said in a baritone as he looked over their progress.
“Well, you’re just in time for lunch,” Marian told Owen. “Why don’t you unpack a few things from your car.” Turning to Sylvia she said, “Sylvia, can you pick up the empty flats and put them in the recycling container and give those new plants a drink while I fix lunch?”
“Sure,” Sylvia replied. She watched Owen unpack a suitcase and some boxes out of the corner of her eye while she cleaned up and watered the garden. After a thorough soaking, she wound the hose back on the hose reel and went into the house. Sylvia stopped by the powder room and checked herself in the mirror. She nearly groaned out loud when she saw a streak of dirt on her cheek and another on her nose. Hair had loosened from her braid and she thought at first glance, that she looked a bit like a scarecrow. Washing her face in cool water helped. She had forgotten sun block and her nose, cheeks and forehead were a bright pink. The cool water felt heavenly. Sylvia loosened her braid, finger combed her hair and pulled it into a quick ponytail. When she finally returned to the kitchen she found Owen and Marian laughing over something with cold drinks in their hands. Marian had set out a simple lunch of bread and cold cuts for sandwiches.
Sylvia was quiet during lunch and listened as Owen and Marian caught up on their lives. Apparently Marian’s husband had been a mentor to Owen’s father. Marian told Owen that Sylvia had very recently inherited her grandmother’s house and was seeking employment in the area.
“What’s your field?” he asked Sylvia.
Sylvia squirmed uncomfortably. “I really don’t have one,” she admitted. “I just recently graduated with a Liberal Arts degree.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Owen replied. “I think a lot of companies are looking for employees with a general background so that they can ‘mold’ them into their model employee,” he said diplomatically. “You should find a job easily.”
“That would be great,” Sylvia said smiling at him. “I’ll be sending out resumes in the next couple of weeks. What is your field?” she asked him.
“Environmental Science with a strong chemistry slant,” he told her. “I’ll be checking the environmental safety at Thurmont and possibly designing some environmental controls.”
Sylvia nodded. She had heard of the Thurmont chemical plant for years from her grandmother. She knew they produced chemicals dangerous to the environment under the façade of safe garden products and other items. Her grandmother had often written letters and made phone calls to protest some of their actions and to support environmental efforts to keep the plant’s chemical waste under control. It was an ongoing issue with local environmental supporters. Sylvia knew that at least one super fund clean up site in the area was due to one of Thurmont’s subsidiaries. She wondered if Owen knew of Thurmont’s cloudy history. She held her tongue.
“Owen,” Marian interrupted, “I was wondering if you could do me a favor this afternoon.”
“Sure, Marian,” he replied, “Anything.”
“I picked up Sylvia this morning and I wondered if you could take her home. I just realized there are some important phone calls I need to make.” She turned to Sylvia and asked, “Do you want to come back this evening for dinner?”
“Thank you,” Sylvia said, “but no, not this evening. I have some things I need to get done too,” not wanting to intrude.
“Well, you’ll need to come back very soon,” Marian told her warmly. “Thank you for all of your help with the garden. We forgot about the vinaigrette recipe. I’ll show it to you soon. Will that be all right?”
“No problem!” Sylvia told her, “I enjoyed it.”
“Let me clear out the car a bit more,” Owen said, “and make a space for you to sit.” He went out to the car and returned with clothes and additional boxes and disappeared upstairs.
Sylvia helped Marian clear the table and load the dishwasher.
“I have something for you,” Marian said to Sylvia.
“What?” Sylvia asked, puzzled.
She followed Marian out the door where Marian handed her a large terracotta pot with a variety of green herbs and one purplish black plant.
“What is in this?” Sylvia asked breathing in the fragrant leaves.
“It’s several varieties of basil,” Marian told her. “Sweet basil, Greek columnar, purple ruffles and ‘sweet Genovese’ – a globular basil,” she said pointing to each plant in the pot. “You know what the Italians do?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye as if she knew a joke.
“Make pesto?” Sylvia’s guessed trying to make a joke as well.
Marian laughed, “Yes, basil is wonderful for pesto,” she told Sylvia, “but according to an old Italian folktale, houses with eligible young maidens placed a pot of basil on their front stoop.”
Sylvia laughed, “Oh Marian! What are you thinking?”
Marian patted her shoulder and said, “Nothing. Thank you for your help in the garden. Go home and put this on your front stoop and water it well.” She gave Sylvia a sly smile and her eyes twinkled as Owen joined them outside. Marian gaily waved them goodbye.
Sylvia sat in the car next to Owen embarrassed at her griminess and the pot of basil on her lap. She sneezed at the sharp minty scent when the tip of the tall columnar basil tickled her nose.
“Bless you,” Owen said.
“Thanks,” she replied, sniffing.
“You’ll have to give me directions,” Owen said as they reached the end of Marian’s lane.
“Oh,” Sylvia said haltingly, “Sure. You’ll need to turn right here,” she said pointing her finger and continued the directions verbally until they reached Gran’s house.
“Wow, that’s quite a view,” Owen exclaimed as they pulled into the driveway which gave way to a view of blue sky and water dotted with sailboats.
“Yes,” Sylvia agreed. “I think I sometimes take it for granted. The view is definitely better from the deck if you would like to come in,” she offered.
Owen hesitated and Sylvia went on, “I have cold beer in the fridge,”
she mentioned.
Owen’s eyes brightened and he accepted. Sylvia stepped from the car and took the pot of basil into the kitchen to give it a good soaking. She placed the pot in the sink, opened a couple of beers and handed one to Owen.
“You can come this way,” she said, leading him through the living room, through the French doors and out onto the deck.
“This is some place you have here,” Owen commented as they stood on the deck looking out at the water.
“Well, officially, it still isn’t mine,” Sylvia admitted hesitatingly, “…yet.” She briefly told him about Gran’s recent death, her leaving the house to her and the upcoming visit to the attorney.
“How about you?” she asked. “When do you begin working for Thurmont?”
“Officially,” he said with a grin, “next Tuesday. I’ll be staying with Marian until I find my own place. Do you know of any?”
Sylvia shook her head. “Gran would have been able to give you ideas, but” she broke off her voice catching in her throat. She took a couple of deep breaths before she continued. “but now, Marian is probably a better one to ask that question,” Sylvia told him.
“Do any of these homes rent?” Owen asked.
Sylvia answered, “Many of them used to be summer homes and rentals, but most of them are year round residences now. It started out as a resort community sometime in the 1940’s, I think. My grandparents have been here forever,” she told him. “Sorry I can’t be of more help,” she said.
“That’s okay,” Owen replied. “I’ll pick up a local paper and ask Marian…speaking of which…I should be getting back. Thanks for the beer,” he said.
“Anytime,” Sylvia said, “Thanks for the ride home,” walking him to the kitchen door.
As Sylvia watched Owen drive away, she realized that she was smiling for the first time in several days. Owen’s affect on her had been disconcerting. She grinned to herself as she thought of her roommate Gwen. Gwen’s comment would have been that he “hit her like a ton of bricks.” She briefly considered calling or texting her friend, but still didn’t feel like speaking to anyone. Emotions were still very close to the surface.
The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1) Page 4
