Chapter 21
Harlow spent the evening mulling over plans to work on her mother’s neglected gravesite, disappointed in herself for allowing her father to push his own projects aside so he could help with hers.
Determined to rectify the situation, as soon as she woke up the next morning she threw on a “Pure Michigan” T-shirt and a ratty pair of old jeans. With a quick swing by the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, she discovered her father had already left the house.
She lingered long enough to sip a cup and eat her daily Greek yogurt with granola sprinkled on top before tracking down David’s camo-colored cart.
Harlow filled it with gardening tools and made a beeline for her mother’s grave.
Lowering onto her knees, she raked the flower bed, removing the moldy mulch and plucking the flowers that had withered and died during the long, cold winter. While she worked, she thought about her father and Lottie.
She sensed a spark between them, but neither had made a move to level up their relationship. Maybe it was an age thing. Both were getting older and set in their ways.
Lottie’s cozy, quaint cottage was close by. David had plenty around the inn to keep him busy. Now that Harlow was back, he was busier than ever, which made her feel even guiltier. She was the reason he didn’t have time to care for his wife’s grave.
She finished cleaning out the flower bed and noticed what appeared to be an exposed section of underground sprinkling, where the soil had washed away.
Thinking it was an easy fix, Harlow went in search of fresh dirt she could use to cover the pipe. A few feet beyond Ginger’s garden beds were a cluster of pine trees surrounded by a mound of dirt.
Using her small shovel, Harlow dug through the compost until she reached soil. She filled a trio of plastic planters and carried them back to the exposed pipe. After covering the pipe, she tamped it down with her boot.
A long shadow fell across Harlow. She pivoted, noticing her father standing behind her, a confused look on his face. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve been helping me a lot lately. I figured I would return the favor.”
“You don’t need to do this. Working on Ginger’s resting spot was next on my list.”
“I don’t mind. Gardening is therapeutic for me.”
“There are plenty of places to help Lottie if you want to get your hands dirty,” he insisted.
Harlow shaded her eyes and studied her father’s face. It dawned on her what he was saying in a roundabout way. “You don’t want me here.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you helping. I made a promise to your mother when I laid her in the ground that I would always care for her final resting spot. I intend to keep my promise.”
“Do you think she would mind if I helped?” Harlow asked in a soft voice.
“No.” David stepped closer, taking note of his cart parked nearby. “You’re clearing the old stuff?”
“It’s too early to plant the flowers.” She told him about the exposed pipe and how she’d covered it. “I’m almost done.”
David told her he planned to remove the rocks around the bushes and add tulips, one of Ginger’s favorite flowers.
“Mom sure loved her tulips.”
Mort, who had been tromping through the fresh dirt, returned to where they stood talking.
“Mort and I just got done working on Winnie’s sails.” David turned to go and hesitated. “How much more do you plan to do?”
Harlow showed him the small area she was working on and the spot directly behind Ginger’s headstone she hadn’t yet touched. “I have maybe another twenty minutes or half an hour and I’ll be done.”
Her father lingered, and for a second Harlow thought he would hang around until she finished so he could keep an eye on her. He finally left, promising to stop back by in case she needed an extra hand finishing up. He called Mort and he and the pup disappeared.
She watched him leave, certain he wasn’t thrilled she had taken over the project but had stopped short of asking her to leave.
Returning to the task at hand, Harlow cleared the debris around her mother’s headstone. The vases on both sides sat empty, and she scooped out the dead leaves.
As soon as she finished, she gathered the gardening tools and placed them inside the cart before returning to the spot where she’d covered the exposed pipes. “Good as new.” She started to walk away when she noticed a depression in the dirt parallel to the pipe.
Thinking another spot needed to be filled in, Harlow grabbed her shovel and moved the leaves aside. Sure enough, another section of piping appeared where the soil had washed away.
She grabbed the empty plastic planters and filled them with dirt a second time. Trudging back to the depression, Harlow lowered onto her knees and moved the dirt around the pipe to make sure it wasn’t leaking.
Her right knee hit on something sharp. Crying out in pain, she jerked back. A glimmer of metal glinted in the light.
Harlow tossed the small shovel aside and began digging with her hands, uncovering a pair of rusty metal snippers that looked like they had been there for some time.
“I wonder if Dad is missing a tool.” She cleaned the dirt off the best she could and set them in the cart. Harlow checked to make sure she’d picked up all the gardening tools and headed home.
She returned the tools where she found them, except for the snippers she’d dug up. Harlow left them on the workbench and ran to her room to clean up.
Making quick work of showering and throwing on casual clothes for another day of bumming around, she padded out of her room.
Harlow found her father in the kitchen, munching on the fudge she’d brought back from Peyton’s fudge sampling.
“You found Peyton’s fudge.”
“I taste cinnamon.” David took another bite and washed it down with a sip of milk.
“You would be correct. It’s cinnamon bun.”
“Did you finish cleaning around your mom’s grave?”
“For the most part. I found another spot where it looked like the dirt had washed away so I filled it in.”
“Thank you. I try to keep track of exposed pipes, especially in the spring. It’s a full time job.”
“I bet.” Harlow tucked her hands in her pockets. “While I was fixing it, I found a pair of rusty metal snippers.”
“Metal snippers?”
“I left them on your workbench.”
David finished his milk and set the glass in the sink. “I don’t remember losing anything over there.”
Harlow trailed behind, following her father to the garage and workbench. “These are the multipurpose snippers you found near Ginger’s grave?”
“Behind her headstone.”
An odd expression flitted across his face.
“What is it?”
He spoke as if he hadn’t heard her. “The sound. The clanging sound I heard the night of the fire.”
“You think this was making the noise?”
“It’s possible. We’ll find out in a minute.”