Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
When Lizzie arrived home Gabby was already hard at work making posters, sitting on the floor, surrounded by markers and poster board, while on a Zoom call with organizers across the Cape. Their regional school district was a sought-after system Cape-wide and the high school was in dire need of upgrading. It was actually the same campus where not just Lizzie, but also her parents had gone many years prior. Before moving home Lizzie would have made a donation and posted something nice and supportive on social media, but now that she was back home she felt more invested and wanted to really be of help.
Gabby puts her fingers to her lips to signal to Lizzie that she’s not on mute, and she can see through to the living room that Sophie is asleep by the fireplace on the couch. She points to some soup simmering on the stove. Lizzie ladles herself a bowl of the yummy smelling lentil soup, tears off a piece of a whole wheat baguette, and sits down at the counter, out of camera view.
“Yes, I know we have to overcome that group of ‘last ones over the bridge’ people who don’t want to pay for anything relating to kids because theirs are all grown up and why should they pay for schools they won’t use?” Gabby says to the group, clearly irritated.
That was a phenomenon of the retiree community that the long-time year-round residents often had to contend with. The same when it came to affordable housing and jobs. What so many failed to see was that not everyone who lived in Cranberry Harbor could afford home prices inflated by lack of inventory and the abundance of desirability. The problem then became, how do you have a thriving community with no young adults, no children? And a place where the people a thriving community needs - police, firefighters, teachers, healthcare providers, and retail workers, can’t afford to live? Lizzie had been writing about it practically weekly since moving back. She was a prime example - a young adult who grew up in Cranberry Harbor, had a fantastic education, even a Master’s degree, who worked more than fulltime and could never afford to buy a house of her own in her hometown.
While Gabby is still on her call Shannon comes bustling in, and Lizzie quickly jumps up letting her know her daughter is sound asleep on the couch. Together they bundle her up in the blanket she’s sleeping under, and Lizzie follows Shannon, carrying Sophie’s coat and little backpack out to her car.
Lizzie is astonished that nothing is rousing her niece, not being carried into the cool night air, or being put in her car seat.
“I think this fatigue might explain her being upset with you leaving,” Lizzie says, handing Shannon Sophie’s belongings after she gently closes the backseat door.
Shannon opens her door and places the things inside. “Yeah, she woke up last night with a bad dream, hopefully tonight will be better.” She gives Lizzie a hug. “Please tell your mom I said thank you.” She gets in and closes the door, smiles and waves to Lizzie, who waves back, turning and heading back to the house.
Gabby’s meeting has ended, and Lizzie sits down on the floor next to her. “Shannon said thank you, we got Sophie into the car - she never woke up, poor baby.” She pauses and looks around at the pile of poster board and markers. “So, what do you need me to do? Do you need more ‘Vote Yes!’ signs or something else?” Her mom looks tired. “Have you taken a break since I saw you in town earlier? I think you need some soup and a glass of wine break.”
Lizzie stands up and motions for her mom to do the same. Gabby groans a little as she gets up. “Dear lord, listen to me! I sound like an old lady!”
“Mom, you are hardly an old lady, and I would moan too if I’d been on that floor for hours.” She points to a stool, “You, sit here.” She gets two wine glasses out of the cupboard and pours herself and her mom servings of a nice Merlot. “Start with this, and I’m getting you some of your delicious soup.” Lizzie places the bowl of warm soup, a napkin and spoon in front of her. She brings over the bread and a little saucer of olive oil - the retired doctor’s preference - no butter for her.
Gabby sighs. “Thank you, honey, I needed this.” She takes a few spoonfuls and sits back with some bread. “I’m so worried this isn’t going to pass. I just keep thinking of more people to call, to reach out to, I just can’t.”
“Mom, you can only do so much, you’ve done everything you can.” She takes a sip of her wine. “There are a lot of us who want this town to be a place for everyone, and I think we’re growing in numbers. Thanks to all the years of work you put in caring for everyone not just as the town doctor, but as its conscience as well.” She smiles at her mom and raises her wine glass. “You have done an incredible job, you still are, but give yourself a break now and then and enjoy yourself, okay? You don’t have to do it all,” she gently clinks glasses with her mom. “There’s more of us here than even a year ago, and I think the renovation is going to win,” she laughs, “Okay, maybe only three or four of us have come back, but that’s better than nothing!!”
Gabby, relaxing a bit, nods. “You’re right. I can fight the fights I can, and then I have to let it go,” she eats some more of the soup. “I did make an exceptional batch today if I do say so myself,” she jokes. “So you really think we’ve got this?”
“I do. I wish I was as certain about Jack’s project, but I’m pretty optimistic about that too,” Lizzie says, finishing her wine.
“You are certainly your father’s daughter,” Gabby says, finishing her wine as well. “I love that.”
“We’re both good windmill tilters, that’s for sure,” she says smiling, and pouring them each a second glass. Lizzie is pensive as she sips her wine.
“Penny for your thoughts,” her mom says, wondering where Lizzie has disappeared to. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sorry,” she picks up a purple grape from a platter on the counter and pops it into her mouth. “Before yoga class I was with Jack, Ben and Sean, and baby Ollie of course, at Sea Coast,” she says, “and Jack was so stressed out about what to name the project, and I’ve been wracking my brain, it’s all about the ocean, and the land, and bringing them and people together, and nothing has sounded like anything more than a condo community. I want to help him and I feel frustrated.”
“That is a hard one, when in doubt I go to the classics,” Gabby says.
Lizzie laughs, “Like what, Jane Austen? I don’t think calling it ‘Pemberley’ would work.”
Gabby laughs too, “No silly, the real classics, Latin and Greek.”
Lizzie pulls out her phone, “Oh my god, I think this could be it! You’re a genius Mom!”
“What? How am I a genius, do tell? I have had a very un-genius day and could use that.”
“Land and sea in Latin is ‘Terra Marique,’ I love the way that sounds!” Lizzie says, very enthused.
“How’s that spelled? It’s pronounced Marick, but I’m guessing it’s not, i,c,k on the end, q,u,e?”
“You’re so smart,” Lizzie says. “Exactly.”
“A product of all those years in medical school with lots of Latin,” Gabby says, finishing up her bread. “I love it! It ties together the farming, the houses, and the ocean. You think Jack will go for it?”
“I think he’s pretty desperate to have something to call it when he goes before the planning board, so yeah. I’ll call him a little later,” Lizzie says, looking around at the poster materials and files.. “So I have done absolutely nothing to help you here, and you have helped me potentially solve a very big issue. What do you want me to do?”
“You know, I think there’s enough signs, you had three pieces running in the last two issues of the Gazette before the vote, and a bunch of letters to the editor from supporters. I think we may be good,” Gabby says, digging into the fruit as well.
“Are you sure? You must need me to do something,” Lizzie says, cleaning up the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.
“There is one thing you could do,” Gabby says, looking at her and grinning.
Lizzie puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head, “What, walk Daisy for you? Clean the downstairs bathroom? Anything you need, I’m here.”
“There’s a new show streaming, ‘London Calling,’ that I know your dad wouldn’t like, it’s about a young woman who moves to England all by herself and creates a new life in a new city, and-”
“She meets a guy she doesn’t like at first but then they fall madly in love?” Lizzie teases.
“Yes! Have you seen it already?” Gabby asks, a little disappointed.
“No, I have not, but you just described almost every romantic comedy ever made, and I am definitely all in. You had me at ‘a young woman moves to London,’” She starts the dishwasher. “Popcorn? We have to have popcorn, right?”
Gabby gets up and starts getting out the air popper and a bowl while Lizzie gets the jar of popcorn out of the cupboard. “Have I told you lately how much I love having you here? You have made life so much brighter.”
Lizzie puts her finger to her lips and looks toward the ceiling. “Hmmm, I don’t think you’ve said it since… yesterday? I was starting to wonder if the luster had faded, if I’d worn out my welcome,” she laughs.
“Fine, so I tell you a lot how much I love having you here. I won’t apologize for it!”
Lizzie walks over and hugs her mom as she’s getting the popcorn all set up. “I love hearing it. Don’t ever stop, okay? And for the record? I love it too.”
“Well good,” Gabby says, pouring the kernels into the popper and plugging it in. “Now let’s hurry up, we should be able to get at least two episodes in before your dad gets home from his curling night. I don’t want to hear him complain about what a silly show it is.”
“Well, I think we can take with a grain of salt anything coming from a man who will have spent two hours at an ice rink chasing a stone around with a broom about how we’re spending our evening.”
“Good point,” Gabby says, sprinkling a bit of parmesan and sea salt on the hot popcorn. “Let the romance commence!” she says as they head to the living room for a cozy night together.