“Whoa, all right.” Came the blushing words of the bearded barista who was clearing off her cup right then. “I’m ready, you Southern Sweetie.” He dropped everything on the table to next her and came at her, arms open.
Paige’s cheeks were instantly heated. “I meant him.” She pointed to her cell near the cat with one hand and blocking him with her other hand.
“Mr. Cat?” The barista paused as if he were considering it. He shrugged. “Okay. I could go for that, too.” With a wide grin, he came at Paige again.
She made a full football block. “No. No. I meant my text. Nothing against you or cats.” Her phone rang. “I have to take this.”
“Gotcha. No touching the cat, only you.” The barista left her tableside, dishes in hand, and motioned he was going to the counter, smiling and nodding his head as he did so.
Paige rolled her eyes. “Hello, Aunt Linney. What’s up?”
All she said was, “Get home soon. Bring mousetraps. Kind ones if they got ’em.”
“Did you see a mouse?”
“Only in the garage. The house was taken care of by pest control first thing, but still…”
“Oh no. Do you think they’re hiding in the debris?” Paige shivered at the thought. “Let’s just shovel out the whole dang bunch.”
“We can’t, Paige. There’s good stuff in there, too, like jewelry. I found a couple hundred dollars stashed in an envelope, not to mention all the family heirlooms. Too bad it’s not summer where we can sort outside.” Then she heard something crash, followed by her aunt swearing and hanging up.
She held the cat and said in a sugary tone, “Looks like we could use one of you. Do you have a kitty friend who can come stay at the farm?” It just meowed when she put the cat down. In no time, she had arranged a Wi-Fi company to come to the farmhouse later in the week and packed up to leave the shop.
Before stepping through the door, the barista was at her side. He handed Paige a pet adoption flyer from the bulletin board. “Meow, you sweet thing. Call me when you want me. My number is on it. Never did it with a furry before, but I’m in.” He opened the door for her, accidentally brushing against her.
She stepped out, a bit dazed, mumbling to herself. “Furry? Sweet thing? Oh no… He thinks I want to…in a cat suit? Or is it with a cat?”
Paige cringed at either prospect and made a concerted effort to note the coffee shop location. She would make sure to avoid the place.
The barista waved, most likely thinking her perusal of the shop was a look of interest.
Chapter Seven
Paige unloaded her purchases into the farmhouse, loving her new white winter coat even though it was a no name generic. It was warm and reasonably cute with a hood. She loved her drivable gloves with matching hat and scarf. Even the new, crisp sheets on sale and the shiny packaged cleaning supplies she liked. Mouse traps she did not.
Mousetraps were something new to her. She certainly never set one up. Though the grizzled old man had showed her how, twice, a trap nearly snapped on her finger. She bought humane traps as her aunt had requested, but the man in the hardware store made her buy a packet of six of the real ones with the promise she could return them. The humane ones were far more complex. She flinched as she set up each trap.
Her renovation learning curve continued as she began scrapping her bedroom walls. Flecks of deteriorated wallpaper stuck on her skin. Her aunt was right. Again. Work clothes did help. She would eventually learn to put a scarf over her hair. For now, she was in denim overalls, flannel shirt, and an oversized T shirt that read “Bad outfit day.”
“Nice flannel,” was all her aunt said over a meal when she saw it. Her aunt was in a sweatshirt that read, “Strong is the New Skinny.”
“It was Davis’. I seemed have taken some of his clothes from the dryer before I left. He never did the laundry. Bet I left him some of my panties and sweat pants, too. I figure it’s a trade. Care for a jersey or two? One’s his favorite game day shirt.”
“All the better. I’ll take it. C’mon let’s get back to work.”
Paige grew tired of scraping wallpaper, so she worked downstairs, sorting inch by inch, foot by foot of the dining room debris, saving very little of her findings. She’d turned up the music and sang with it as she whittled away at the space.
Linney screamed. Paige hopped over waste bags, rushed to the stairs, and saw her aunt lurch out of one of the bedrooms, slamming the door. It was one of three rooms upstairs that had garbage mixed in with antiques, practically to the ceiling and limited walkways through them.
“Are you okay?” Paige called up.
“Not really. Let’s just say, new meaning to skeletons in the closet.” Linney flew down the stairs with a bread box size plastic bag in her hands and rushed outside to the garbage. Paige approached her aunt gently after she returned and was scrubbing her hands.
“Why don’t you work with me for a bit in the dining room? I set up a mousetrap in the corner already, so we should be safe. Not to mention, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a bunch of clocks under there. Let’s get all archeology together and excavate.” Paige smiled and Z snapped her fingers.
Her aunt turned, hands on hips; her disgruntled expression changing to a smile. She must have been unnerved since no retort came.
They dug. Paige opened aged and sometimes mildewed folders, tossing most of it into yet another large garbage bag. Every now and then, there was a folder or an unbroken paperweight or trinket to save.
“What about this?” Paige asked.
Her aunt smiled, lovingly handled the piece of sculpture a five-year-old made, and threw it out, telling Paige the history of the item some sibling had made.
“Are you sure Uncle Bob wouldn’t want that?”
Aunt Linney gave the best eye-roll shake of the head any Dornheim woman could give. “What do you think?”
“I think I am getting garbage guilt.”
The stained holiday cutouts she held in her hands were yanked away by Linney and tossed into the garbage with a growl. Paige got the picture and stepped up her game, pausing less.
“This looks important. A house blueprint from 1980. Where do you have the other renovation documents, Aunt Linney?”
“Um, well…”
“You do have some? I gave you my own receipts.”
“Those are on the kitchen counter.”
Paige returned with them. After a discussion over restoration expectations and budget, Linney stomped up the stairs and returned with an empty expandable folder, a few files, and a box filled with crumpled papers.
“Have at it sometime. I do enough reports with work. All I know is we need to clean this out and hopefully ferret out things to sell to help pay for the bigger projects. Then we can sell the house unless a family member buys it at cost.”
“Okay.” Paige took it all in. She told herself to look at the situation as a professional work project, and she would take it on. She put the blueprint in the box and set them aside with the other necessary paperwork.
Linney’s posture looked much more relaxed. She gave her aunt a hug.
“Cut that out and keep sorting, Squirt.” But Linney smiled.
Paige reached into something gooey and threw that handful out with a shudder. After a few more handfuls of less foul material, she unearthed something else. She felt her stress lift. “Wait. Look, a music box. It’s a filthy one, but maybe it can be saved.”
Her aunt pulled it from her hands. She stepped away with it.
“Are we keeping that one?” Paige called after her aunt, knowing that the answer was yes.
Paige shrugged and went back to work. She pulled out an eagle statute. It was broken and sharp and went straight to the garbage bag without guilt. Unfortunately, it seemed to have been serving a purpose, namely keeping a mountain of papers, party hats, and waste from avalanching, so avalanche they did. Under it was a box. Not a corrugated box but one that looked special.
She knew she should deal with the paper mess first,
but the aged box called to her. She opened it. It had letters, stacks of bundled letters with yellowed stamps and flourished writing. Some were addressed to Ida, her grandmother. Some to Amelia. Amelia? That was Paige’s first name. Most had postal dates on the letters from the 1950’s, some even older.
“Hey, Aunt Linney. I found a bunch of letters. Want to read some?”
“No way. Toss ’em,” Linney called from the other room.
“You sure?” She called back.
“Yup.”
“Can I keep them?” Paige asked.
“Yeah, but read ’em on your own time. Keep working, slave.”
“What about you?” Paige put the box of letters in the foyer.
“Big boss prerogative. I’m trying to get this music box to work.”
“Cheater.” Paige knew what to do. She turned up the music and went back sorting and singing. She did, however, hear a loud objection from the kitchen. She hoped it was just a groan, but it did sound very much like swearing.
****
The next day was the same—scrape wallpaper until fingers were raw then trade with mind- numbing sorting. Paige had brought the letters she’d found up to her room, or rather the hall outside her room. She’d been too tired to read them. Maybe tonight, she told herself, scraping away on the wall, piece by piece. The man in the home improvement store said it would be a “cake walk” with warm water, unless of course the wall was not made of sheet rock.
“Of course, it’s not sheet rock. Why would this stupid wall be sheet rock?”
Scrape. Scrape, gouge, scrape.
“Why make anything easy?”
She finally tossed down the tools and stretched. Not even her yoga stretches helped. She had already called Michael once today for a fast, whispered moment. Time for the dining room. But she walked right by it to the kitchen. Lunch.
“No wonder I’m a grouch,” Paige said to no one. She had skipped lunch while her aunt was off on her hospice job. She washed her hands haphazardly and wasn’t in the mood to make anything. The bag of cookies called to her as did the open bottle of wine.
“To the good life, wherever it may be.” She took a deep swallow and chased it with three cookies from the package her aunt had left out.
“Did you know your doorbell doesn’t work?”
Paige nearly choked. She tried to swallow but couldn’t, so she squirrelled the cookies in her cheek. “Who the hell are you?” Her drawl along with the cookies made her question come out a mumbled mess.
“Hey, there. You must be Linney?”
Paige shook her head.
“Whoops. Must be the wrong house.”
The man in the plumber gear carrying tools turned to go. Paige tried to call after him but couldn’t so she downed the wine first.
She gasped. “Wait…sorry. I’m Paige.”
“Don’t be. Your parents wouldn’t like that.” The middle-aged man laughed at his own joke. “Plumber, comedian—same thing. Good for the pipes. So, what seems to be the problem?”
Paige wanted to say “your jokes” but held back and instead directed him to the downstairs powder room and the vague instructions her aunt left for him.
He smiled and opened the door. His smile disappeared. “Whoa. That’s terrible.”
“Really?” Paige objected. “We cleaned it as best as we could, carrying buckets in so you wouldn’t have to work in whatever mildewy mess was in there.”
“Not what I meant. Orange walls. That wallpaper, it’s…what? Neon with flocking? I think you might have more work in here than I do.”
“Not so bad if there’s sheet rock under there.” She left him to the room. Was it the wine talking or was she starting to sound like a DIY channel?
The hours wore on. Paige made it through part of the dining room enough to unearth a charming old rocker that could use a new cushion. She added “cushion” to a list posted on the wall for later hunting or purchase. A song came on she liked, so she cranked up the music and danced, forgetting the plumber.
He stepped from the bathroom, nodding with the music, which he said his niece liked. Paige made note he didn’t mention a wife. She also made note of his graying-brown hair and his okay physique. Her matchmaking wheels spun. Unfortunately, they spun while he was explaining something of needing a different set of tools and what part of the faucet could be saved for the new cabinet. He said something of the new toilet Linney purchased needed some kind of bendable something and he would be back tomorrow if that was okay.
Paige just smiled and nodded pleasantly, completely missing most of what he’d said.
Her words spilled out nervously, “Could you make it later afternoon? I’m sure you’d want to meet up with Linney. I mean be with my aunt. See her and show her your bendable bits. Whatever.”
The plumber looked nonplused and packed up to leave. He turned to Paige. “Cute accent, Miss, but I don’t catch half of what you say. Hope your aunt will be here tomorrow. I have some interesting piping to show her.”
It was all Paige could do not to burst out laughing.
****
“Okay, Aunt Linney, the crusts are ready and rolled out. I’m putting them in the fridge. All you have to do is make your best filling.” She had worked out a perfect scenario of her aunt meeting and falling for the plumber. She had to set her plan into action.
“Why am I doing this?” Linney grumbled.
“Because you said you did pie fillings the best out of desserts.”
“But why again are we making pies?”
“We talked about this.” Paige sighed. “Because it is good hospitality to be able to offer guests, such as myself, something to eat or drink.”
Linney looked at Paige as if she were nuts. “You live here now. Well, as much as I do.”
Paige’s southern came out full force. “Guests. Other guests. People who come to help. Anybody.” She was practically shouting now. “It’s nice.”
“Okay, okay. You don’t have to get huffy. I’ll throw something together tomorrow. And no, I won’t burn it. Okay?”
Paige exhaled. Her smile could not even begin to hide the frustration she had at trying to help her aunt get back out there. Before she returned to do one last chunk of the dining room, she added, “Oh, Aunt Linney, could you wear something nice tomorrow?”
“I always dress well for my clients.”
Paige wasn’t having it.
Her aunt continued, “Okay, okay. Matching sweater and no holes hidden in it.”
Paige smiled. It was a start. A start on a very, very tall order. Operation “Linney Meets the Plumber” all set for the next day.
****
Paige complained to her mother briefly while her aunt was on a hospice shift. “I’m trying my hardest for Aunt Linney to step up even a fraction. It is so frustrating to make her come out of her I could care less about men because of Roger cocoon. She’s fighting me all the way.”
“Somehow, I can relate, darlin’. If you recall a certain tomboy…”
“Oh, Mom, don’t start that again.”
“Of course not, dear. But out of all your friends, who exactly doesn’t go that extra mile? Not that you need to. You have to remember Linney was a hot hellion in her day. A real looker. Give her—”
Paige cut her off when she heard the garage door. “Gotta fly. Hot hellion just pulled up.”
“Remember patience, Pai—”
But Paige had already hung up.
“What are you doing wearing those?” she asked when Linney came downstairs a few minutes later.
Her aunt gave her a look. “What we’ve been doing the last several days. Sorting and de-hoarding this mess.” She stuffed her hair in half-done bun, tugged her dirty, stained sweatshirt, and asked sarcastically, “What do you think I was doing?”
“I mean I thought you would say hi to the plumber in your work attire.”
Her aunt just rolled her eyes and went to the kitchen after something dinged. She came out carrying a hammer and started back up th
e stairs. It was only then that Paige noticed her shirt read, “Feel safe at night, sleep with a nurse.”
“Aunt Linney, come back down. You have to visit with the plumber. He had bendy pipe questions that I never listened to.” Paige nearly shouted over the sound of an electric screwdriver.
Her aunt turned around with a sigh.
“Plus, he’s got great hair even if it’s graying,” Paige shouted. “He’s about the right age for you, and he even has a nice ass.” The last part she said after the noise had stopped.
“Hey, there. Heard that.” The plumber stepped from the bathroom. When had he arrived? “Sound travels in here, doesn’t it?” He shook hands with Linney and turned to Paige, “Thanks for the comment on my butt. Flattering especially with that accent of yours. Just to let you know, I’m married with three kids though.”
Paige gasped. She saw their shared conspiratorial looks and half-stifled snickers at her gaffe. It was all Aunt Linney could do from choking back her chuckles.
Paige just flounced. “Well, before I go back to my endless tasks and you to your bendable pipes, do you happened to have any brothers who aren’t married with three kids?”
“Sure.”
“That’s wonderful, isn’t it, Aunt Linney? Please follow me to the kitchen.” She continued talking to the plumber as they walked. “My aunt is single if you didn’t know. Is your brother her type?”
Paige handed him a hot mug of coffee.
“Might not be. He’s married with four kids.”
That got a laugh from Linney that echoed from the foyer.
“Thanks for the coffee, Miss.”
“You’re welcome. Please think harder on those single men and you might get some pie.”
“There’s pie?”
“Why sure there is. They’re cooling. My aunt made it. She’s cute and great at baking, just in case you know someone who wanted to know.”
At that moment, her Aunt swore and entered. Her hair half out of the bun/pony tail, with a profound amount of dirt on her face and shirt.
“Damn vacuum cleaner bag burst.” The only part of her shirt visible now was, “sleep with a nurse.”
Paige stepped in front of her aunt and began to usher the plumber out.
A Paige in Cupid's Book Page 6
