Chapter 29
29
Jewel
Miguel had been distant for the past couple of weeks. Jewel knew he was busy with farming, and since she was in the middle of her farmhouse renovations, she decided it was probably for the best. Things had been warming up a little too quickly between them. As much as she liked Miguel, she wasn’t sure she was ready for a serious relationship. And that’s where it felt like they were headed. Not only that, but she worried what would happen if they got involved and it fell apart? How would that impact being good neighbors, or even Cooper’s friendship with Anna?
For the time being, Jewel felt more comfortable maintaining a little distance. So, nose to the grindstone, she’d been clearing things out and painting. To keep it simple, and because she thought it looked classic and would provide a good backdrop to all the art she planned to display in the house, she’d decided to paint most of the downstairs, as well as the guest bedrooms, a linen shade of white. The bathrooms were painted a very pale aqua, with white woodwork.
She was painting kitchen cabinets today. Keeping in the spirit of the original green paint, she’d gone a few shades darker, and the contrast against the linen color was perfect. Aaron had tried to talk her into replacing them altogether, but when she went over the options, and how long it would take to get something new, plus the price tag, she decided the old cabinets were fine. With a fresh coat of paint and some new farmhouse-style hardware to replace the chipped and worn wooden knobs, they would be perfect.
By now she and Cooper had cleared the house of the accumulations of past generations. To Jewel’s surprise, she’d found some keepers too, furniture items she could reuse or repurpose to outfit the B&B, which would not only look great but would also save her money down the line.
Cooper and Anna had the task of sorting and pricing everything out in the barn. The plan was to hold a big barn sale this upcoming weekend. Jewel had encouraged her parents to oversee the sifting process in the barn. She didn’t want to get rid of anything without their approval, but so far Mom had only salvaged a few items of sentimental value, claiming she’d become a true minimalist. And Dad didn’t seem to recognize or even care about much of anything out there.
The one interesting thing Dad had salvaged was a teddy bear with a red-and-green Christmas vest. The plush toy had been Jewel’s at one time. But her dad held it protectively to his chest as if he’d just rescued it from sure destruction. Now he kept the stuffed bear by his chair in the new house. According to her mother, he sometimes held and stroked it to soothe himself.
Jewel knew this whole business of moving things from his old home and piling boxes in his beloved barn could agitate him or make him feel more displaced than usual, and no one wanted that.
To that end, she’d decided to ask him to help paint the farmhouse’s exterior. But she hadn’t chosen the colors yet. She wanted it to feel friendly and inviting and had several sample palettes laid out on the front porch, but so far none seemed just right.
She heard footsteps coming into the house and, not expecting any of the construction crew today, went to investigate. “Dad,” she said cheerfully as he walked through the nearly empty living room. “You came to visit.”
“Who lives here?” he asked with a frown. This was his usual question when he came into the house. It was something she’d have to figure out when the day came to open the B&B, but she’d let that go for now.
“Cooper and I live here, Dad.”
“Huh?” He went into the kitchen. “What’re you doing?”
“I’m painting.” She nudged him away from the cabinets’ wet paint.
“Oh?” His eyes lit up.
“Maybe you can paint too,” she said.
“Uh-huh.” He nodded. “I can paint.” He reached for the brush she’d laid on the edge of the can.
“But not in here.” She led him toward the back porch. “Outside. Come on, Dad.” Wanting to get him out of harm’s way, she led him to the back door. As they walked past the big red cabinet that held his honey supply, he paused to open it, reverently appraising the numerous amber jars.
“Honey,” he said with a pleased expression.
“Yes. That’s your honey, Dad. Pretty, isn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.” He reached in to take a jar. She knew Mom already had stocked quite a few jars in the new house, but whenever Dad passed through here, he usually got one to take with him. Although the porch stairs had been rebuilt by one of Aaron’s guys, she took his arm to help him down. Then she led him out in front and turned him around, pointing up at the two-story house.
“I’m trying to decide what color to paint,” she said absently.
“Uh-huh.”
“I like the green, but I’m not sure.” She studied the house’s lines and roof color, trying to imagine what would look best. “And it really needs fresh paint. So maybe it’s time for a change. You know, to make it more inviting for guests.” She knew she was using too many words, but her dad seemed to enjoy the attention.
“Uh-huh.” He nodded with a blank expression.
“And I’m trying to think of a name,” she continued.
“Name?”
“For the B&B.”
“Bees and bees?” His forehead creased just like it always did when she mentioned the B&B. “My bees?”
“For the bed and breakfast, Dad. It’s called a B&B.”
“Honey bees and bees?” He held up his golden jar of honey. “Lots of bees.”
She decided to humor him. “Sure, honey bee and bee.” And then it hit her. Why not? “Maybe we should call it the Honey Bee and Bee. You know, like bees. Buzz buzz.”
His eyes lit up. “Yeah, buzz buzz.”
“The Honey Bee and Bee,” she repeated. “Buzz buzz.”
“Bees and bees, buzz buzz. And honey.”
“That’s it, Dad! That’s our name. The Honey Bee and Bee. Like honey bees. I like it.”
“Honey. Buzz-buzz bees. I like it,” he echoed happily.
She began to imagine cute honey and bee logos that could go with the name. And she’d find recipes involving honey for breakfast items. And they could sell jars of honey too. Maybe open a little gift shop in the barn. So many ways to utilize what was literally under their noses. It was perfect!
She peered at the house again. “So you helped me name it, Dad. What color should we paint it?”
He squinted up at the house. “Honey.”
“Honey?” She turned to him.
“Like this.” He held his jar toward the house. “Honey.”
“The color of honey?” She considered the golden amber in his jar. She hadn’t included any shades of yellow in her color palette choices. Probably a reaction from the new house’s original color. “It could be friendly.”
“Friendly honey.” He grinned. “I’m hungry.”
“Okay, Dad.” She firmly nodded. “I think you’re right. The Honey Bee and Bee will be painted the color of honey. And you will help me paint it. And now you should go get your Honey to make you a sandwich.” She wasn’t exactly sure what shade of yellow she’d choose but definitely nothing like that screaming bright yellow the new house had been painted. She imagined a subtle golden yellow. She’d have to check out the honey jars in the cabinet for inspiration. She knew various seasons produced different colors of honey. Hopefully one shade would be right. Anyway, it was an interesting idea.
By the end of the day, she’d decided the color of the siding would be a rich warm hue of amber. Like autumn honey. Not too bright, but not too muted either. She even mixed up the color herself, using her acrylic paints. Finally, she held up the cardboard sample to the house, studying it in varying light. She would paint the farmhouse trim and shutters olive green, to complement Honeymoon Cottage. And the doors would be a rich rusty red to match the weathered barn. She held up her new paint samples near the barn and new house, concluding they would be sweetly compatible.
The next morning, she told her mom about the Honey Bee and Bee name, then showed her the paint color selection. After getting Mom’s approval, Jewel headed to town for the paint. As fate would have it, she ran into Aaron at the hardware store. Although she wanted to maintain a congenial working relationship with him, he always seemed to assume it should lead to more. Apparently today was no different.
“Come on, Jewel. You have to eat lunch,” he urged for the third time.
“It’s a little early for me.” She pointed to where the young man behind the paint counter was mixing the first five-gallon bucket of paint. “And I want to get started on painting today.”
“More reason to grab a quick bite now,” he insisted. He called out to the paint guy. “How long is that mixing going to take?”
“The whole order?” The guy looked upward as if the ceiling held the answer. “Twenty minutes. Maybe more if I get busy with other orders.”
“Come on.” Aaron tugged her elbow. “The deli has their gyro special today, and they’re really good.”
Embarrassed to be drawing attention, she reluctantly agreed, and before long they were eating some pretty tasty gyros. But aware of the time, and her dining companion, she ate as quickly as politely possible, listening while Aaron went on about what a good sales season he was having at Hanford Homes.
“I’m happy for you.” She took a fast sip of her iced tea.
“And good news.” He looked at his phone. “Your farmhouse sink and quartz countertops will be ready for install tomorrow. You all set for that?”
“I just finished painting the kitchen cabinets.”
“Great. And my HVAC guys have scheduled your new heat pump to be installed early next week.”
“That’s great,” she said as she finished off the last bite of her gyro.
“I think those were the last things on your list, but I haven’t had time to come by to check on the progress. How’s it looking to you so far?”
“Just fine. Your guys do good work. I might need a couple of tweaks. Minor things. I’ll text you a list later.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and then stood. “Thank you for lunch, Aaron. You’re right, the gyros were good. But I need to get going. Make hay while the sun shines.” She forced a smile as she headed for the exit. At the door, she was surprised to see Marta Orosco and another woman seated nearby.
She greeted Marta but was met with a somewhat questioning look along with a stiff little wave. Flustered and wanting to explain that meeting with Aaron was just business, which may not have been completely true, she simply waved back and hurried out. Small towns! She never knew who she might run into. Of course, that was also the beauty of a close community—something she looked forward to enjoying more. But she hated to give Miguel’s mother the wrong impression.
Honey
After Jewel had left for town, CT was fixated on painting and kept asking when he would get to do it, even after Honey had told him a dozen times, “Not until Jewel says so.” She wished Jewel hadn’t mentioned it. Jewel and Cooper still sometimes imagined it brightened CT’s world to talk about things to come. But CT’s time span was all about here and now. Like an anxious three-year-old, he didn’t know how to wait.
So when CT went AWOL shortly after Jewel left, Honey wasn’t too surprised and suspected he might be getting into Jewel’s art materials again. She set down the banana she’d brought for his midmorning snack and hurried outside, calling for him as she went to check the barn. But when she found him, he was inside the farmhouse kitchen, trying to pry open a bucket of paint with a dinner fork.
“CT,” she said, trying not to scold. “This is Jewel’s project. She’s been working on it.” She glanced around the room that barely resembled her old kitchen. “Jewel needs your help outside.”
He looked up from the can, fork still in hand. “Outside?”
“Yes. She went to get house paint. We have to wait for her to come home.”
“Home? To paint?” He set the fork on the floor. “Okay.”
“You need to save your energy so you can help her this afternoon.” She took his hand. “You know how you get tired.”
“I know.”
“And there’s a banana waiting for you.”
He smiled. “You take care of us.”
“That’s right.” She led him to the back porch, waiting as he paused by the red honey cabinet. As usual, he removed a jar of honey. She didn’t bother to tell him they were overly stocked. “Can’t have too much honey,” she said as they went outside.
“Too much honey?” He scowled. “No.”
“No, not too much. We have enough honey.” She waited for him to navigate the steps. “Honey is one thing we always have plenty of.”
He pointed at her. “Always have you, Honey.”
She smiled. “That’s right.”
“Always together,” he said as they walked. “How many years?”
“Forty-seven in August.”
“How old am I?”
“How old do you think you are?” This was a question she asked him from time to time just to see if he could remember. Sometimes he got close.
“Forty-seven,” he proclaimed.
She almost wished he was forty-seven again. If she could turn back the clock, maybe she’d do things differently. Perhaps retire sooner, or go traveling while it was possible. And yet the very idea of all that just made her tired right now. “You’ll be seventy in the fall,” she said as they strolled. As soon as the words were out, she instantly regretted them. Maybe CT felt better imagining he was only forty-seven. But more than likely, the numbers were lost on him.
“Seventy?” He sounded impressed. “That’s a lot.”
“It’s enough. For now.”
“Here we are,” he declared as they stepped onto the front deck. But then he turned to her with uncertainty. “Who lives here?”
“We do, CT. This is Honeymoon Cottage.” She usually said this before they went inside because that name seemed to make him happy. And just like always, he added, “Home sweet home.” She closed the door and pointed to his chair. “Look, there’s a banana just waiting for you.”
As CT shakily lowered himself into his chair, she tried to repress the sensation that they were both living in an old folks’ home for couples, a slow-moving place where people just sat around eating bananas, playing checkers, and watching TV all day. Really, this was a pleasant and efficient house, and so much better than any sort of assisted living facility, like someone had suggested to her last year. This smaller house really did suit their needs. Still, it wasn’t the beloved old farmhouse that she’d known for her entire life. Honeymoon Cottage was a blessing, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same. And never would be again. C’est la vie.