by Amanda Tru
Her uncle looked up as she passed his desk. “How’s it going in there?”
“Good! The electrical is the hardest part, and I’m nearly done with that.”
“Great. Can you do me a favor after lunch?”
“Sure.” She’d gladly be his girl Friday if it meant he could keep her employed. There wasn’t a lot of work in the winter, for his construction company or anyone else in the area.
“I’ve got some old blueprints for Aunt Violet. I have no idea what she wants them for, but I don’t need them. Can you bring them out to her at the farmhouse?”
“I haven’t seen the farmhouse since she moved back there,” Eleanor said. “I wonder if Penny will be there. I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“Maybe. Your uncle Carl said she’s there nearly every day.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how well a bridal shop will do all the way out there.”
“It’ll be fine. Penny’s a smart woman.”
“Mmhm. I hope that’s enough.”
No one appeared to be home. Eleanor considered the old farmhouse from the comfortable warmth of her car. Her only memories of the place were of kittens she’d found in the barn and playing shadow tag with her cousins. The barn was gone now. The driveway was paved, with a little parking area and a walkway that curved around the house, rising gently and ending at a side door. An elegantly-disguised wheelchair ramp. Uncle Carl’s landscaping business at work, no doubt. The yard, sparse and frozen, would be beautiful when he finished it in the spring.
The gray and white house managed to look contemporary without denying its farmhouse roots. The blue door—not the ubiquitous red—gave it distinction. Still… would brides really drive all the way out from the cities to get their dresses made by an unknown young woman with no credentials? In a farmhouse?
Eleanor put the car in gear. She’d drop off the blueprints at the Andersons’ house after work. Maybe she could catch Penny or Violet there. She hadn’t seen any of them yet. Aunt Connie’s invitation to Thanksgiving dinner, delivered through Uncle Gary, had been a matter of form. They knew she had to go home. Now, she wished she’d accepted.
A red car whipped into the parking lot even as Eleanor started to back up, a blond girl emerging, waving, almost before the car stopped.
“Hi! Did you have an appointment with Penny? She’s running late. She got a flat tire and didn’t have a spare, so her aunt and the handyman went out to help her. Can you wait?”
Eleanor opened the car door. “No appointment. I’m her cousin. I just came to drop off some stuff for Aunt Violet.”
“Oh, it’s nice to meet you! I’m Brittany. I do Penny’s marketing and social media.”
“Eleanor Nielson. I just moved here. I haven’t even seen Penny in years. Aunt Violet, either.”
“Violet will be back in a few minutes.”
On cue, a blue Buick turned in and parked on the other side of Brittany’s car. Eleanor hurried to meet her. Aunt Violet didn’t look any different than she had last time Eleanor had seen her. Thin, with snow white hair and faded blue eyes, she leaned on a cane as she rose from the car. There was something very comforting about elderly relatives. They made her feel like she had roots. An odd thought, but true.
“Nellie!”
An unexpected lump grew in Eleanor’s throat as Violet embraced her. No one else had ever called her that—fortunately—and even though she’d never been close to her aunt before, she felt like she’d come home.
“Nellie Nielson! That’s a terrible name,” Eleanor said. “I used to get called Ellie sometimes, but Mom’s always said Eleanor, and it stuck.”
“I called you Nellie when you were a baby,” the older woman said. “You were a sweet little thing, with big blue eyes and always waving your arms around.”
“Mom says that’s how she knew I’d be good at volleyball. I’ve got some blueprints for you, from Uncle Gary. Can you show me around? I’d love to see what you’ve done here.”
“The main part of the house is Penny’s, but you can see my little home in the annex.”
“I’m going to wait in my car for Penny,” Brittany said. “I’ve got some calls to make. It was nice to meet you!”
“Yes, nice to meet you, too.” Eleanor shook hands with the girl.
“I’m sure we’ll meet again.”
That would be nice. She could use a few friends here. Eleanor grabbed the rolls of paper and followed her aunt to a back door. “So, are you all moved in? Penny’s going to live upstairs, over her shop, right?”
“Not yet.” Violet twisted a key in the lock and pushed the door open. “We’re moving in at the beginning of the year, but then I’m leaving at the beginning of February, for Florida. I’ll stay with your grandma and Aunt Colleen until the weather improves.”
“That’s a good plan.” Eleanor shivered dramatically. She looked around the spacious kitchen. “This is nice. Is this where Mom lived when she was little?”
“Oh, yes, she did. I’ll make some coffee.”
It would be rude to leave right away. Eleanor shrugged out of her coat and hung it on the rack. Uncle Gary wouldn’t mind.
Violet talked while she filled an old-fashioned percolator coffee maker. “It’s plenty big for me. I’ll have two rooms for my sewing. One’s just an ordinary sewing room, and the other will have the long-arm quilting machine in it. That leaves me with one bedroom for myself and a spare. Would you like a look around while the water boils?”
“Yes! You have four bedrooms here?”
“They were always full, until we all left and closed the place up. We even had some boarders for a while, but then it was abandoned until we decided to put the bridal shop in here.” Violet looked around with satisfaction. “Now it’s all mine—this part, anyhow, and that’s enough for me.”
“So, you’ve come home.” The idea was… heartwarming.
“Yes, I have. But it’s the people who matter, you know, and I was always with family.” Violet pushed a door open. “This was the master bedroom, but I’m putting the quilting machine in there. The previous owner will be here tomorrow to assemble it for me.”
“That makes quilts?” The electrical equipment and metal pieces, including several long pipes, looked like something from one of Uncle Gary’s work sites.
“It quilts them. A great improvement over doing them by hand. This room opposite is mine, and that’s the sewing room.”
She pointed, and Eleanor obediently moved to look inside. It didn’t exactly look like a tornado had gone through it, since everything was still piled up, but she wondered how her aunt could accomplish anything in such a jumble. The rest of the house was so clean and orderly.
“I keep most of my material and other supplies in totes in the laundry room. It used to be a sort of mudroom, but now it’s just laundry. I was going to keep them in that room at the end of the hall, but your uncle Carl said I should keep it for guests.” She sniffed. “I suppose your grandma might come, but she’d stay with them, especially now that I’m moving out and they’ll have more room. But Brian—Penny’s young man—fixed up a lot of shelves in the laundry room, and I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”
Violet turned back toward the kitchen, and Eleanor followed. “I saw you have patio furniture out back. It’ll be a nice place to sit when it gets warmer.”
“We used to sit out there, a long time ago, before all those trees got too big and blocked the view.” She opened a cupboard and took out cups and saucers. “I have some sandbakkels, too. Do you like those?”
“I don’t know. What are they?”
“Cookies! Swedish cookies. Doesn’t your mother make them?”
Eleanor shook her head. “She makes sugar cookies and gingerbread men at Christmastime. And sometimes others, but I don’t think I’ve heard of sandbakkels.”
“Hmph. She used to love making sandbakkels, even when it wasn’t Christmas. Have a seat.”
Eleanor sat. It was odd to hear of her mother spoken of as a child, so casually, b
y this woman who was nearly a stranger. “Then I’m sure I’ll enjoy them. Can I help with anything?”
“No, it’s all done.” Violet set the filled cups on the table and returned for a plate of cookies. “Penny will want to show you the rest of the house herself. She’s been working hard on it.” She transferred a cookie to her plate. “The annex will do nicely for me.”
“It’s larger than I thought,” Eleanor said, “but it still seems cozy. The cabin is so big and empty. It’s strange to be there alone at night. I’ve been playing music, like white noise, to drown out the wind and coyotes.”
Instead of filling the house with warmth, though, the music made it worse. If it was quiet, it disappeared, swallowed up in the vastness of the great room. When she turned up the volume, it echoed off the walls and ceiling.
Aunt Violet frowned. “All by yourself. I don’t like that. Are you driving back and forth every day?”
“Yes, for now.” Eleanor took a cautious sip of the black coffee. “I’m a little worried about winter. Uncle Gary says he’ll plow, but he’s so busy.”
“And he’s not going to plow you all the way to town! What if the power goes out or your car breaks down? Or if there’s a lot of snow and he can’t get out, either?”
Eleanor blinked. “You aren’t exactly reassuring me, Aunt Violet.”
“Has anyone ever lived there over the winter before?”
“I don’t know,” Eleanor said, “but Uncle Gary said it’s all winterized. It’s not exactly a rustic cabin. It’s bigger than my parents’ house and a lot nicer.”
“It’s a cabin, and isolated. What would you do in an emergency?” Violet snapped. “That boy doesn’t have a lick of sense. Why are you staying out there?”
“I… It’s sort of a perk of the job. I’m not all that helpful at the office, so I don’t expect a lot of money. If I stay at the cabin, I don’t have to pay rent or utilities.”
Her aunt narrowed her eyes speculatively. “You’re keeping it clean and lived in. Empty houses are a target for bugs and rodents and vandals. You’re doing him a favor.”
“No, not really. It’s a beautiful place. I’m grateful.” She ran a finger around the cup’s handle. “It’s just a bit remote, and with winter coming, it does make me nervous. But it’ll be fine.” She took a bite of cookie, mostly to put an end to her protests.
“I don’t like the idea of you all alone out there. Why don’t you get a place of your own, in town?”
“I’ve been thinking about it. I’ll check the buy-sell-trade groups on Facebook. Maybe someone wants a roommate.” Eleanor sighed. Just like college. The garage apartment her parents fixed up for her was nice, but it wasn’t like being independent. She’d stayed long enough to pay off the student loans, and then, instead of looking for a place of her own, she ran away and ended up in a remote cabin without a real job.
“I don’t care for the sound of that at all.” Violet set her cup down, clinking against the saucer. “You’re going to meet up with someone online and live with them?”
“I’d ask for references,” Eleanor said meekly. “Or at least I could look for rentals cheap enough to get without a roommate.”
“You can move in with me.” The offer sounded more like a declaration. A command.
Eleanor bit her lip. Living in the back bedroom at her elderly aunt’s house was a step in the opposite direction of independence. At least she had privacy at the cabin. “I don’t know… I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. The cabin is so luxurious. Even if I was snowed in for a day or two, I’d be comfortable. There’s even a wood-burning stove in the rec room downstairs, in case the heat goes out.”
“You know how to use a wood stove?”
“I’ll get Uncle Gary to show me.” Eleanor smiled at her aunt. “Really, I’m fine. Have you been out there? It’s like a resort.”
“No, I haven’t. I know cabins, though, even nice ones, and they’re still cabins.”
“You could come out and stay with me,” Eleanor teased. “At least until you’re ready to move in here.”
“No, thank you. I’d rather move in here now, but Carl doesn’t like the idea of me being here alone. I wonder if he knows you’re alone out at the cabin.”
Her uncle Carl wouldn’t worry about Eleanor falling and breaking a hip, though. Someone as frail as Aunt Violet should be closer to other people, in case of emergency. She stood up. “I’d better get back to work before Uncle Gary docks my pay.”
Her aunt didn’t move. “I don’t understand what you’re doing for him, anyhow. I thought you were a teacher. Didn’t you get a master’s degree? Sit down.”
Eleanor complied. “I decided to try something else for a while.”
Violet gave an unladylike snort. “Working for a construction company?”
“I’m actually enjoying it. One of the things I’m doing is taking off project plans. That means I go through the blueprints or plans and make a list of all the items we’d need to buy to build the project.” She pressed a finger against the cookie crumbs and licked it clean. “I know it sounds dumb, but it’s kind of satisfying. I figure out how many eight-foot, 6-inch pipes we need, and how many six-inch, ninety-degree flanged elbows and how many bolts it would take to join all of the pipes. Or electrical wiring and outlets. That’s more complicated, but I’m getting it.”
“But you’re a teacher!” Her aunt didn’t sound impressed with her new skills. “You sound like Brian, with your wiring.”
“Brian?”
“Penny’s young man. The one who set up my storage. He’s been re-doing all the electrical work and anything else he can think of, as an excuse to hang around.”
“Oh. Well, I don’t know anything about electricity—just adding up the length of wires and components. Same with the rest of it. I’m in the office, not out doing the work.”
Violet tipped her head to one side. “If you come now, Carl couldn’t have any objection to me moving in early. And it would be safer for you than living out at the lake.”
Eleanor looked at her. She didn’t want to be manipulated. She’d just run away from that and was enjoying the freedom. “I don’t think I can. I’ve made a commitment to Uncle Gary. And like you said, the house shouldn’t be left empty. If I get snowed in, I’ll do a lot of reading and be cozy in front of the wood stove. It sounds kind of fun.”
It sounded terrifying. The cabin was more cavernous than cozy, with its prow front wall of windows, massive stone fireplace, and high ceilings that peaked at twenty feet. The logs were bigger than any pine tree she’d ever seen.
“Well, I think you’ll be ready to move to town sooner than later.” The old lady stared at her for a few seconds. “In fact, you could be helpful to me.”
“Helpful?”
“I’ve been working on some little books, to go with my family history quilts. I thought they were good, but I started rereading them a few months ago, and they’re terrible. They need an English teacher to go over them. Editing. There are some that still need to be typed up, since I didn’t have a typewriter or computer when I started.”
“You write books to go with quilts?” Interested, Eleanor sipped her coffee. It was cold.
“I make family history quilts. Didn’t your mother tell you?”
“Um, no. She didn’t mention it.” Why hadn’t she? Eleanor was beginning to wonder if she knew her mother at all.
“I’ve been making them for years. At least fifty years. Penny says they’re like a scrapbook. I write books—stories, anyhow—to go with them, to explain what they are and why I did different things with them. I could use your help with that.”
And move in early. Yep, Eleanor recognized manipulation when she saw it. “I don’t think I should, right now. Would you be willing to keep the offer open for a while, in case it does get too hard out there? And if I did move in,” she added hastily, “it would be temporary, while I look for a place of my own.” She reached across the table and patted the blue-veined hand. “But thank you.
”
“Did you hear Jack say that the church is booked with weddings every Saturday this month?”
“You wouldn’t think January would be a big month for weddings in Minnesota.” Larry paused, his cup halfway to his mouth. “But it’s cold and dark, so maybe people are looking for a partner then. One person can’t stay warm alone, you know.”
“No,” David said, “it doesn’t work like that. According to my sister and cousins, weddings take at least a year to plan. It’s ridiculous. Once you get engaged, you should just get married.”
“I heard that. One of my clients is engaged. Her wedding is over a year away, and she’s in a constant state of anxiety about it.”
“Why? The wedding or the marriage? Don’t get me wrong, Larry, but if my bride was so stressed out by the wedding that she had to see a psychologist, I’d wonder if she really wanted to marry me. And how would she do with married life?” David demanded, warming to his topic. “And kids?”
Larry shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“And a year! Larry, I’m thirty. If I found a girl tomorrow, dated for at least a few months before proposing and then had to wait a year to get married, I’d be nearly thirty-two. And even if we start a family right away, I’d probably be thirty-three or so when the first one is born. If we have two or three…” He broke off, offended. “What are you laughing at?”
“Only an engineer would do the math like that.”
“I want to have a family, and I want to do it young enough that I can enjoy my retirement with an empty nest.”
Larry chuckled again, getting his whole body involved. “In other words, you want to have kids and get it over with, skipping all the parenting years, and enjoy the grandchildren.”
