by Barrett
“You know, I was going to make a salad for supper . . . I’d love to have you stay. That way I’d have somebody to help me chop vegetables.” Where did those words come from?
“That sounds good. I can’t believe I’m hungry again. Seems like all we’ve done today is eat.” Kirin’s laugh sounded nervous.
Silke laughed. “Well, remember, we started the adventure at o’dark thirty and have been going nonstop. I’ve enjoyed it. You’re wonderful company.” She stood. Enjoying Kirin’s company didn’t begin to express her feelings. “Come out to the kitchen and let’s see what we can throw together.”
Kirin happily accepted the task of slicing up tomatoes, celery, radishes, and green peppers. Silke filled the electric egg cooker and carved some baked ham. The finished joint production was a beautiful summer meal they enjoyed on the back porch, accompanied only by fireflies and crickets.
It was dark when they returned to the kitchen with empty dishes that Silke insisted on doing.
“It doesn’t seem right to leave you to clean up the kitchen especially when I enjoyed such a great meal.” Kirin patted her belly.
“I’m grateful you were willing to change your plans for me and leave so early this morning,” Silke said. “This day has just been glorious. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it.”
Kirin stowed her computer in her messenger bag, and they stood awkwardly on the front stoop. “It was a good day for me. I really appreciate your feedback on my article. There are still a few things I want to tweak, and I’ll show it to my beta reader before I send it to the editor.” She shifted from one foot to the other but made no move to leave.
Silke took the invitation and put her arms around Kirin’s shoulders. “Thank you for being such a wonderful friend,” she whispered.
Kirin responded by pulling her close and holding her tightly. The heat from their bodies and the summer night enfolded them. Their faces brushed, and Silke felt warm breath against her ear. She held her breath, savoring the moment. A growing tenderness blossomed inside, and she inhaled the special scent that was only Kirin’s.
“I’m not sure I can never tell you how much you’ve touched my life,” Kirin said barely above a whisper. “Everything in me—”
Silke held the back of Kirin’s head. “Tell me?”
Kirin simply shook her head. She stepped back and stroked Silke’s cheek lightly. “I’d better leave, but I’d like to get together again.”
Silke deflated a little as Kirin stepped away, leaving a cold space between them. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine. It’s just you have a lot going on right now, and I don’t want to complicate it. Thank you for everything today. Really, it was one of the best days I’ve ever had.”
“Good night. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Silke said as she watched Kirin jog to her car. Conflicting feelings warred within her disappointment at Kirin’s departure and the pleasant tingling sensation at the closeness.
The ominous cloud of Rachel’s return and the tasks awaiting her created a suffocating heaviness.
When Kirin’s car turned the corner and disappeared from view, Silke turned, went inside, then locked the front door. She busied herself with the dishes, hoping to chase away the shadows.
The phone rang a few minutes later. She dropped the dish towel as she grabbed it, hoping . . . “Hello”
“I wanted to let you know I’ll be home tomorrow afternoon, but I have to fly out early Tuesday. I wondered if you’d have time to press a couple of shirts for me.”
It was Rachel.
The sound of her voice brought an avalanche of disappointment and dread cascading over her. “Sure.”
KIRIN TURNED SOUTH on Lake Drive and opened all the windows to clear her head. It had been a narrow escape. The initial friendly feelings that pulled them closer had simmered. But the growing physical closeness was dangerous. Silke was by nature a touchy-feely kind of person, which was lovely, but it threatened Kirin’s self-control. She needed to create some boundaries quickly or fall prey to the physical desire. Each time her conscience nudged her to leave and go home, she had ignored it. The grace of God must have intervened, because she knew in her heart of hearts, that if Silke had asked her to stay, she would not have refused.
She groaned loudly because of the physical ache. One thing she knew for certain, Silke was deeply enmeshed in a very complicated relationship with the potential for serious fallout. Silke needed a clear mind to make decisions, and Kirin’s self-respect demanded better of her.
Meanwhile, she had two projects to complete before Esther appeared with a new assignment. She parked at the rear of her condo and dragged her bags into the front hall. It was still early, but she knew she didn’t have the energy to unpack. Instead, she checked her phone for messages.
The first was from Esther. “I hope everything went well in Sturgeon Bay. Give me a call when you get back. I have some good news. Take care.”
The second was from Melissa. “Sorry I blew you off Saturday night, but what an incredible weekend! Can’t wait to tell you about it. I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Steffi has to work Tuesday, so I guess we’ll be back sometime Monday. I think I’m in love.” Her squealing giggly voice made Kirin laugh.
“Good luck, Steffi.” Kirin shook her head and sorted through the pile of mail she picked up off the floor then tossed it on the kitchen counter. All she could focus on was a cool shower and a soft bed.
Chapter-Twenty-nine
“HI, HONEY, IT’S Mom. I got your message, and I’m free on Wednesday. I’ll be more than happy to go with you to the eye doctor then take you to lunch. Give me a call to let me know what time.”
Silke hung up the last shirt and turned off the iron, glad to have Rachel’s task complete. She’d been up since six-thirty, cleaning the kitchen and finishing the ironing. She wanted to be working in the studio as early as possible. She loaded the small yard cart with some linens, a clock radio, and a small cooler filled with two ham sandwiches, juices, and water. She checked her phone one more time before sticking it in her pocket. No messages from Kirin.
The studio felt comfortable but stuffy. She decided to open a window and the transom to get the air moving. She wanted to be sure she had the pulleys and calipers ready to set the logs on the sawhorses she and Roger had specially designed before her wood order arrived. She looked around from the center of the studio floor. They needed to accommodate four-foot sections approximately twenty-four inches in diameter.
The first day of a project excited her. The visualization of the design on a blank section of wood was magical. Good thing Roger would be around for a few more weeks before he left for Florida. He had a unique ability to visualize Silke’s idea when she described it. He was psychic-like in his ability to sense the exact carving tools she needed, almost like a surgical assistant. It saved her a lot of time. She rubbed her hands together and grabbed the linens.
She tucked the clean sheets under the mattress then pushed it against the wall. The small loft looked cozier with the furniture. One window provided good light during the daytime, and the small table lamp would be sufficient at night. She plugged in the clock radio, reset the time, and tuned in to the classical station. She sat on the foot of the bed and looked around. How many nights would she be sleeping out here? It didn’t matter there was no phone and a good lock on the door.
She carefully walked down the narrow staircase and unlocked the large cabinet next to the workbench that held her expensive carving tools. The last carving project had been weeks before, and she couldn’t remember if she’d re-sharpened her chisels. She carefully wrapped her smaller chisels in a leather roll up carrier—a gift from her father when she graduated. She treasured them.
As a child, he taught her to whittle small objects when they were on vacation. In high school, he showed her how to use carving tools—a unique bond they had shared for many years.
Her cell phone interrupted. It was Phillip. “Hello.”
“Is this a good ti
me to talk?”
“Yes, I’m out the studio waiting for a delivery.”
“I finished reviewing a contract and the latest numbers from the bank. I’ll be glad to meet with you guys whenever Rachel is ready. I think we have a couple of viable options. If Rachel buys you out at the current appraised rate, she’d have to refinance to give you one-hundred-forty-thousand dollars. Or, you both agree to sell it. The house goes for two-hundred-and-eighty grand, minus a hundred-and-twenty thousand for the mortgage and home equity loan, leaves you one-hundred-and-sixty thousand dollars to split. I’m guessing that’s what she’ll want to do. Now, she’ll also have to throw in whatever’s left of the home equity loan she got or we deduct it.”
Silke shook her head. “I’m having a hard time keeping these numbers straight in my head.”
“I know, sis, but I want you to know what’s possible. I have another idea I’d like to run past you, but you don’t have to decide today.”
She leaned forward on the workbench, holding her head. Math hurt her head, especially when she couldn’t see what he was describing. “Okay. Explain it slowly.”
“I had an idea and I talked it over with Barb. She likes it. Rachel can sign a quitclaim deed. I refinance the house and pay her off. I’ll hold the title, and you can rent it for less than you are paying for the mortgage. If you decide you want it, I can give it to you on a land contract. I know that’s a lot to think about, so don’t worry. The important thing is we have options.”
Gyroscope brain, she moaned but liked his ideas and felt as though she would have a level playing field if it got ugly with Rachel. “Thanks a lot, Phillip. I’m glad I have you and your left brain in my corner. Rachel will be home a little later, and I’ll ask her when we can set up a meeting. I’ll let you know.”
The sound of a horn honking startled her.
“Delivery for Dyson.”
Silke rolled up the bay door. “I’m Silke Dyson. All set. You can bring them in here.” She pointed to the sawhorses.
They brought the logs in and put them on the sawhorses. Silke checked them to be sure there was no damage and signed the invoice.
The smell of the wood filled the air and lifted her spirits. She ran her hands over the surface of both sections of wood, noting defects and irregularities. Her friend did a good job. He had called several times to discuss options and convinced her that for the project she was working on, he had the perfect piece but it was ash and not cedar. She had agreed.
“These are magnificent pieces.”
The next two hours went by quickly as she used a drawknife and a rasp to smooth irregularities. Her muscles burned, and a sheen of sweat covered her arms and shoulders. It felt good to be working physically. She had missed this.
“I guess you didn’t hear the phone.”
Silke jerked around at the sound of Rachel’s voice. “No. I guess I didn’t.”
Rachel stepped closer then stopped and laughed. “I was going to give you a hug but . . . maybe I’ll wait until after you shower. Looks like you’re jumping into your new project. Good thing I’ll be out of town all week, huh?”
Silke brought her breathing under control and tightened her grip on the rasp. “This will keep me busy. When do you have to leave?”
“Early tomorrow morning. I’m exhausted. What a weekend. I thought we could just grab a pizza, if that’s okay with you, then I can turn in early.” Rachel brushed sawdust off her pant leg.
“Great idea. I could keep working until it’s delivered.”
Rachel walked to the workbench and looked at the drawings. “I can do that. I just thought you might want to get out of the studio for a while.”
“Normally I would, but I just started on this. Besides . . . you want to go to bed early.” Rachel’s casual indifference irritated her.
Screw it. She wasn’t going to waste her time showering, dressing, and wasting time in a restaurant only to listen to Rachel talk about herself and her busy schedule. If they stayed at home, it would give her time to deliver a short statement and then retreat to her studio.
“This looks interesting. Kind of a big project for you, isn’t it?” Her tone was dismissive as usual.
Silke shrugged. “I can manage.”
“Okay. I’ll call when the pizza gets here. Be careful, hon,” Rachel said over her shoulder on the way out.
If the drawknife at her feet hadn’t been so expensive, she might have kicked it. Instead, she went to her cooler and pulled out a water bottle. Anger roiled around inside her. Rachel never missed a chance to diminish her in some way, but to infer she had to be careful because of a disability that was not an accident, but passive-aggressive bullshit. She capped the bottle and tossed it back in the cooler. The most therapeutic thing she could think to do was use her electric saw.
From the stacked wood at the rear of the studio, she selected an eight-foot section of one-by-two-inch wood and took it to her workbench. She reviewed the drawing and measured six-inch segments. After uncovering her miter saw, she methodically cut the marked sections then removed the safety glasses and smiled. A cloud of sawdust floated in the sunlight and filled the room with the scent of freshly cut wood.
The narrowest section of the log would be the top half of the lighthouse. She measured the diameter to determine the circumference of the widow’s walk then returned to the drawing board. She put down her pencil and looked up through the skylight as the low-angled sunlight filtered through the trees. Tonight was the night. She was going to tell Rachel it was over.
The last twenty-four hours had shown her she was stuck and the direction she wanted to go. She’d been a victim for too long and she wanted control back.
Her cell phone beeped then said, “A message from Kirin Foster.” She smiled before she could get her cell phone out of her pocket.
I’m taking a break from editing all morning. Wondered what you’re doing?
Silke smiled and typed.
I’ve been in the studio all day, thinking and working. As soon as I break for dinner, I’m telling her that I’m done with this. Wish me luck.
She waited impatiently for the reply.
Good for you! You’re an amazing woman and you deserve to be happy. Call if you need anything.
Her pulse quickened as she reread the message twice.
I will thanks.
Yes, she could do this.
KIRIN STARED AT the display and rubbed her eyes. She didn’t envy Silke the task ahead. Even after such a short amount of time, she thought she understood Silke fairly well. Her rock and hard place would be difficult to navigate, but in spite of her handicap, Silke was strong and incredibly self-sufficient. Much more than I am.
She carried her glass out to the kitchen to refill it. She tried to think of some excuse that would take her to the north side of Milwaukee but couldn’t. She’d have to wait for an invitation. After meeting Rachel over the weekend, she knew that any interest she showed would complicate things for Silke.
“Stay safe my friend.”
Chapter Thirty
SILKE DRIED HER hair, hung up the towel, then pulled on clean clothes. One final look in the mirror, and she was ready.
Rachel had set the kitchen table with plates, napkins, two bottles of beer, and the pizza. “Doesn’t this smell good?” She pointed. “I can’t even remember the last time we had pizza.”
“It does smell good. Pepperoni?” Silke sat down and unfolded her napkin, praying for the strength to sit through this dinner.
Rachel sat and opened the box. “I just ordered the special. Here.” She scooped up one piece with a spatula and slid it onto Silke’s plate then did the same for herself.
They ate in silence for several minutes.
Silke took a swallow of beer. “Where will you be this week?”
“I have a training session for some new sales people in Minneapolis. Why, do you need me for something?”
“No, I have an appointment at the Medical College on Wednesday, but Mom’s going to drive
me. I wanted to set up a time that we could meet with Phillip.” Silke’s voice quivered slightly.
Rachel looked up from her plate with a puzzled expression. She hesitated. “Why do we want to meet with Phillip?”
Silke took a deep breath. “I’d like to discuss our Tenants In Common agreement.”
Rachel took a swallow of beer then narrowed her eyes. Her expression changed from curiosity to suspicion. “Why would you want to discuss that?”
“Because this isn’t working. You’re not happy and neither am I,” Silke said. “So, I don’t see any need to continue the charade. You’re never here, and I don’t need this house. I’d rather use the time working than doing chores.”
