A New Leaf

by Thomas Kinkade

  Sophie poured a cup of coffee and took a sip, her gaze still fixed on the trees. Then she turned and walked to the mud room. She pulled Gus’s old green barn jacket from a peg and put it on over her robe and nightgown. She sat on the bench and stuck her bare feet into a pair of work boots. She found some gloves in the pocket and put those on, too, then covered her head with a wool cap. She opened the side door, the cool moist air shocking her fully awake. She paused for just a moment, then stepped outside, breathing in the rich, misty air.

  It was chilly now, but it would warm up nicely today, she predicted. Sunlight glowed on the far horizon, dabbing the gray predawn sky with a rosy hue. The sun would burn off this mist in a few hours. It would be a clear, sunny day. A spring day, she realized, walking toward the apple trees.

  There was so much to do out here. The trees needed attention, a knowing hand. There was pruning to take care of and the ground to clear. Fertilizer was needed. She should do a check for cocoons and insects.

  Sophie reached up to touch a branch as if she were reaching for the hand of an old friend. It didn’t make much sense to do any of that now. Not with the land going up for sale soon, and someone coming along and knocking all these trees down to build houses, most likely. There was slim chance of finding a buyer who would keep the orchard running. Her son, Bart, had told her she had a better chance of getting hit by lightening.

  Sophie sighed. That was probably true, though he didn’t have to put it so bluntly. She noticed a rake on the ground and bent to pick it up. Had it been out here all winter? She and Gus had grown careless last fall with Gus’s health failing. They never would have forgotten a good tool like this otherwise.

  She picked it up and began raking the ground around the tree roots, gathering the dried leaves and winter’s debris into a small pile. Without thinking, she moved on down the row, raking another area. She lost herself in the rhythm of the work, not noticing the sun rising or the time passing. She lost herself in thoughts of the past and found herself humming a familiar song as she worked along.

  “Grandma! What are you doing out here?”

  Sophie looked up to find Miranda staring at her. Her tall, long-limbed body looked hastily dressed in sweats. Her long thick hair was a mess, making her appear as if she had just tumbled out of bed.

  “Oh dear, you startled me.” Sophie stood back, leaning on the rake. She pressed her hand to her chest and laughed.

  “Are you okay, Gram?” Miranda’s concerned look made her want to laugh even harder.

  “Of course, I’m okay. I just woke up early for some reason and felt like getting some air. I saw this rake on the ground and thought I would make myself useful.” She sighed and looked around at the apple trees. “There’s so much work to be done out here—spring work. I know nobody is going to buy this place and keep the trees, but I hate to neglect them.”

  Miranda gently took the rake from her grandmother’s hands. “Let’s forget about the packing. We can work out here today, if you like. You never know. Someone might want the orchard. You don’t want the trees to look shabby. It would bring down the price.”

  “I’ll say it would.” They both knew Sophie didn’t care much about the price. But she did take great pride in her trees.

  “Just tell me what to do. I always used to come and help you and Granddad when I was in high school.”

  “I remember.” Sophie glanced at Miranda, then back at the row of trees. “It would be nice if we could just prune back some of these stray branches and maybe clear up the ground a bit. So the roots can get the fertilizer.”

  “All right. I’ll go get a wheelbarrow and some tools from the shed.”

  “Get some for me, too, honey. I’m not a bit tired.”

  Miranda smiled at her over her shoulder. “You don’t look tired, Grandma. You look raring to go.” Then she stopped and turned to face her. “I do think you ought to go back inside and put some clothes on, though. Just in case somebody stops by to say hello.”

  Sophie glanced down at herself and laughed. “I’m out here in my nightgown, for goodness’ sake. I almost forgot.” She looked up at Miranda and shook her head. “Guess I got carried away.”

  “I guess so,” Miranda agreed. She looked up at the sky which had turned a deep shade of blue. “It’s going to be a great day. We can get a lot done.”

  “Yes. We’ll get a lot done out here today,” Sophie agreed happily. She turned and headed for the house, eager to change into her clothes and get back to work.

  “HERE ARE SOME SAMPLE MENUS I’VE PUT TOGETHER FOR YOU. THIS ONE IS mainly seafood,” Molly pointed out. “This one is a little more gourmet—more exotic ingredients, different sauces. This one is pretty standard, a lot of all-time crowd pleasers. But you can switch things around if you like. Or if there’s something special you have in mind, we can figure that in, too.”

  Emily glanced at the menus with interest, her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “Hmmm, these look good,” she said.

  Molly took a breath. She had been talking nonstop since she arrived and hoped she didn’t sound as if she were babbling. They sat in Emily’s living room, with Molly’s papers and photos of table settings spread out on the couch and coffee table. Molly had arrived at five. Her mother was at her place, visiting with the girls. It was now after six, but they weren’t quite done. Emily had some idea of what she wanted the event to be like; so far, though, she seemed to be an easygoing client.

  Which was a good thing, Molly knew, since she wasn’t sure how she would handle anyone tougher. She was barely out of Catering 101. Preparing for this appointment had been a do-it-yourself crash course. Thank goodness her teacher had given her lots of advice about what to bring along and key points to discuss. She even loaned her a book with photos of table settings and told her where she could find samples of table linen and flatware to show. Lauren had helped her type out menus on the computer. Her teacher had also encouraged Molly’s classmates to help out to gain some practical experience, so there was her staff . . . if she needed one.

  “Just try to play the part,” Betty had advised in a last-minute pep talk. “I know you feel like you’re faking it, but you’re really not. It’s just a new side of your personality, one you’re going to see a lot more of.”

  Molly did feel a little as if she were acting. So far Emily hadn’t asked any questions she couldn’t answer, but she kept waiting for Emily to see through her act. It was funny how now she wanted this job so much when last week the entire idea seemed horrifying.

  Finally Emily looked up, holding the menus out in front of her. “I like the idea of doing something a little different, not the same old buffet you see everywhere. I think most of this will be wonderful,” she said, pointing to the gourmet choices. “And maybe you can add the ubiquitous ham or turkey, tucked away in the corner for the less adventurous eaters.”

  Molly laughed at her analysis, surprised to realize she even knew what ubiquitous meant, thanks to Jill’s vocabulary list.

  “I think we can do that. No problem.” She jotted a note on a pad: Add boring roast entrée. Wow, this was really happening.

  They went on to talk about the decor. Molly had a lot of ideas for creating an atmosphere that was both sophisticated and festive and even had suggestions for making the invitations match the party ambience. Emily seemed to love her ideas.

  “I could have it here if we keep the guest list down. But the party seems to be growing by the hour.” Emily gazed around. “It might be more comfortable at my mother’s. The rooms are so much larger, especially if we’re going to set up small tables at dinner time.”

  Molly gulped. Lillian Warwick’s house? Now there was an unexpected speed bump. She didn’t get along with Lillian Warwick. Last summer, after Lillian’s stroke, she was hired to clean for her and bring over meals. The job came to an abrupt end when Lillian insulted her brother Sam, and Molly stomped out in a fury. Molly was sure Emily would remember and tried to keep her own expression blank. She could
n’t risk making any waves. She was lucky to get this job at all.

  “You know my mother’s place. But maybe you’ll need to look the house over again sometime. Just let me know,” Emily suggested.

  “Uh, sure. Once we get closer to the date.” If the old dragon will even let me in.

  Emily glanced at her, and Molly could tell she had guessed her thoughts. “Don’t worry about my mother. I’ll handle her.”

  “I’m not worried,” Molly fibbed. She was worried about dealing with Lillian Warwick, but she was also worried about so many other issues that Lillian seemed just one hurdle among many.

  Emily had some questions about the flowers, which distracted Molly from her worries about Lillian. The meeting wound up a few minutes later. Emily sat back on the couch and slipped off her glasses, looking pleased.

  “Well, it takes a lot to put together a big party, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t really know where to begin on my own.”

  “You just have to show up and be the hostess—with your fiancé, of course.”

  “Oh, Dan hates parties. I’m surprised he even agreed to this one. But he’s a lot more social than he lets on once you get him out of the house.”

  Emily smiled at her, and Molly could see that she was really in love; her expression took on a glow just talking about her husband-to-be.

  The two women parted with Molly agreeing to send Emily an estimate of the cost by the end of the week. As she walked down the path from Emily’s house to her car, she felt like jumping in the air and shouting, “Yes!”

  But she was afraid that someone would see, so she just smiled and said it softly to herself.

  TEN MINUTES LATER MOLLY ARRIVED HOME AND WAS MET AT THE DOOR by her mother. “How did it go?”

  “Pretty good. Thank goodness, I can finally take off these shoes.” She kicked off her dressy pumps and sighed with relief. Her poor feet were used to spending the day in cushy old sneakers. They were totally in shock.

  “All we did was talk. I don’t know why I’m so exhausted.” She dumped her portfolio on the kitchen table and dropped down into a chair.

  “Don’t worry, dear. I know you can do it. Think of all the cooking you’ve done for our family parties. It’s not so different.”

  Molly’s father was a professional cook, and her mother was quite impressive in the kitchen as well. With her five siblings, there had always been something to celebrate. Or maybe her family just liked having big parties. Like her sisters and brothers, Molly had learned to cook from her dad. He always made it look easy and fun. It was true in a way; preparing for a party wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t be with her experience, anyway.

  But there seemed to be so much riding on this. Molly almost felt as if she couldn’t breathe if she thought about it too long.

  “This is different, Mom. It’s not just our family. I’m trying to start a real business here.”

  “Yes, dear. I know. Just don’t let yourself get too stressed about it. That’s not going to help you.” Marie Morgan picked up a pot and dried it with a dish towel. “Emily’s a nice lady. I’ve always liked her.”

  “Yes, she is nice,” Molly agreed. “I was pretty surprised to hear she was getting married, though. She always seemed the forever-single type to me.”

  “Every pot has a lid.” Her mother gave her a meaningful glance. “Even—”

  “—yes, even the bent one,” Molly finished for her. How many times had she heard that one? Clearly, she belonged in the bent-pot category, though her lid had yet to proclaim himself.

  Her mother kept looking at her, making Molly feel distinctly uncomfortable. “What’s the matter, Mom? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “You must be tired. You didn’t even notice the flowers.”

  Molly followed her mother’s gaze and suddenly saw a huge bouquet sitting on the counter by the phone. She got up to take a closer look.

  It had to be Phil, always going for the grand gesture. What he was trying to trick her into now? Or was he apologizing for some slip up she didn’t even know about yet?

  “Where’s the card?” she asked, looking around.

  “I left it there by the phone book.” Molly could feel her mother watching as she pulled the card from the tiny envelope.

  Dear Molly,

  So sorry I lost it on Saturday. You were right. It’s a girl thing, and it’s only hair. (I’m actually starting to like it. . . but don’t tell Amanda.)

  Thinking of you, Matthew

  Molly laughed a little at his message, and her mother gave her a curious stare. “Who was it? I’m dying to know,” she admitted.

  “Oh, just this guy, the father of one of Lauren’s friends.” Keep it vague, she advised herself. You’ll have fewer questions to deal with later.

  “That new doctor?” Marie’s eyes were bright with interest. “I’ve heard he’s quite nice. People seem to like him already. Why did he send you flowers? Did you go out with him or something?”

  “Mom, slow down.” Molly gave her mother an exasperated look. “He got a little upset when Lauren and Amanda dyed their hair, and he just wanted to apologize.”

  “Oh. Well, that was considerate.” Her mother looked a little disappointed, Molly thought, but not without hope.

  Molly gazed at the flowers. It was a thoughtful gesture. That “thinking of you” part had given her hope again, too, though she hated to admit it.

  Molly knew she had to call him now. The idea made her nervous. She would just thank him and see if he had anything more to say. Like finally inviting me out on a date, for instance.

  “Dinner’s almost ready,” her mother said. “Why don’t you call the girls? They’re doing their homework.”

  “All right. What did you make for us?” Molly peeked under a pot as she passed the stove.

  “Spaghetti and meatballs. Jill wanted it.”

  “Looks yummy. I’m starved.” Molly touched her mother’s shoulder as she left to get the girls. As much as she liked to cook, it was a sweet break when someone else did it so she could just relax and sit down at the table.

  After the girls were in bed and her mother had gone, Molly made herself a cup of tea and took the phone into the living room. She had promised Betty she would call after seeing Emily. But first, she thought, she ought to call Matthew.

  She felt silly, noticing how her hand shook as she pressed the numbers. She hoped her voice wouldn’t betray the butterflies in her stomach.

  When was the last time she had called a man she really liked? She wasn’t sure. Boring Micky didn’t count. When was the last time I even met a man I really liked, come to think of it?

  “Hello.” Matthew’s voice came on the other end of the line, and she coughed to clear her throat.

  “Hi . . . it’s me, Molly. Thank you for the flowers. They’re really beautiful. You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”

  “Yes, I did. I was totally over the top. Amanda told me she was mortified. She had to have a long talk with me in the car about my behavior.”

  Molly laughed. At least he was starting to see the humor in the situation. “Sorry to hear it. I hope she wasn’t too hard on you.”

  “Not so bad. She did let me watch TV tonight.”

  He sounded really happy to hear from her—and relieved. He must have thought she was angry at him. She had been so distracted getting ready to see Emily, she hadn’t really had the time to dwell on it. Well, not as much as she had expected to.

  “How was your father’s party?”

  “It was fine. It was good to see everybody. But I don’t miss Worcester much. I guess Cape Light is starting to grow on me. Amanda and I went to the beach on Sunday and walked to the lighthouse. It was a beautiful day.”

  “Yes, it was almost like summer,” she agreed.

  He was prolonging the conversation. That seemed a good sign. For some reason, she didn’t want to tell him about her appointment with Emily. It was all too new and tentative.

  They talked about some events going
on at school, safe topics, Molly thought. Then the conversation seemed to dwindle. Molly felt awkward, wondering if she should be the first to say she had to go.

  “I noticed that there’s some good music in Newburyport this weekend. On Saturday night at Bay Street Café,” Matthew said suddenly. “It’s jazz, a pianist who’s really great. I know this is short notice, but I wondered if you would like to go with me?”

  Molly couldn’t answer. Had he actually asked her out on a real date, no children involved?

  “Um, sure. I’d love to. That sounds like fun.” She actually hated jazz but knew she couldn’t say that. She also didn’t think she would notice the music too much. She’d be too distracted by Matthew.

  “Great. I think the first set starts at nine, but we can grab dinner first. How about we say around seven?”

  “Seven sounds fine.”

  Molly hung up the phone, totally elated. Now she did jump up from the couch and pump her fist in the air. “Yes!” she said out loud.

  She sank back onto the couch, quickly dialing Betty. She had a lot to report.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “SO, YOU’VE FINALLY GOT A SATURDAY OFF. WHAT ARE YOU GOING to do today, honey?” Tucker bit into a slice of toast, looking interested in her answer.

  Fran shrugged. “Just some spring cleaning. I guess I’ll start in our bedroom. The curtains need to be washed. And maybe this afternoon we can give Scout a bath together. He’s been looking a little scruffy lately.”

  “Poor Scout. I didn’t realize he was on the list, too. I just don’t have the heart to tell him. You’d better.” Tucker’s glum expression made her laugh.

  “Come on, Tucker. It’s almost halfway through April. You know I always do heavy cleaning in the spring.”

  “I remember. It’s serious. Guess I’d better take the dog and clear out for the day.”

  “Good idea,” she agreed with another laugh. She didn’t often have a Saturday off from the office, and even though she knew it sounded terribly boring, she was secretly looking forward to a cleaning spree and having the house to herself for the day.