Chapter 22
ABIGAIL
Double booking is a common ADD characteristic, thus exemplified by me, Always Falling Behind Abby. Learning that I screwed up my calendar, brought on panic, which added another layer of loathing, forgetting Micah would arrive thirty minutes before Seneca was due to arrive. I prided myself on having placed both arrivals in my external frontal lobe, aka my phone”s calendar. What I notoriously kept forgetting to do was to look at said calendar until the ten-minute reminder pinged me.
”Hey, Micah. I”m so happy you could make it. Come in.” I pushed the door back, allowing her to enter the foyer unobstructed, and her mouth fell open.
”Look at that pastoral mural!” I think she may have swooned. ”It”s original, right? Wow. I could sit right here all day and look at it.” She stepped in farther, and I shut the door.
I cleared my throat. ”It is incredible, but let”s go into the parlor for a snack.” Look at me being all hostessy. ”As promised, I baked some magic bars. I didn”t know if you had any allergies, so I made lemon squares, too. Coffee or tea?”
I pointed to the coffee table adorned with beverage napkins I found while rifling through the drawers a few days ago. It appears I am the proud owner of several boxes of ”You”re Either Inn or Out of Mystic” beverage napkins—one thousand, to be exact—showing the play on words about staying at an inn. They will be great for spills or propping up a wobbly table.
She sat down, swiveling her head in all directions. ”Uh, tea, please.”
I hustled to the kitchen to microwave some water. There was no time for a kettle today. I had to get Micah started on one project so I could properly welcome Seneca when she pulled up. Minutes later, I zoomed back into the front of the house with a hot mug of water and three kinds of tea. I really am pretty accommodating when I apply myself. I”m going to be a great innkeeper. Good talk.
”So, Micah. I made a logistical error today and will have to cut our visit short, but I want to have you back soon to go through some things when we have more time. Another guest is arriving on short notice, and I can”t reschedule with her. Do you mind?”
Her face fell, but she covered her disappointment well. ”Of course. Things come up.” She eyed my cookies or the old clock on the table. I wasn”t sure.
“Why don’t you make your tea? Then I’ll give you the two-dollar tour. We’ll finish back here so you can enjoy your cookies for as long as you’d like. Sound good?” You would have thought I pulled a rabbit out of a hat at her outburst.
“Oh, Abigail. I’d love that. Thank you for not canceling on me. I’ve dreamed for years about what it might look like. “How could I deny her puppy-dog face?
True to my word, I moved Micah through the main floor and up the main staircase before I received a text from Seneca that she exited the expressway and would arrive in fifteen minutes. Ushering her down the hall, I gave her three minutes for the bedrooms and an exciting trip down the servant”s stairs, finishing outside at the gardens. The spring air was merciful today, with a light breeze and lots of sunshine allowing her a quick stroll through what soon will be a beautiful garden.
”My word, Abigail. The potential for these gardens is spectacular. I hope you have a good groundskeeper lined up.” She trailed off as she pushed through the overrun slate walkway toward the pool. ”Oooh!” She whipped around wide-eyed. ”You have a pool! Boy, would I love to swim in that one. Would you invite me over for a swim? I won”t be any trouble. Truly.”
This woman was a kid in a candy shop. She shuffled around, stopping at several landscape features, including a broken birdbath, a spinning metal wind catcher, and several birdhouses. ”I love birds,” she whispered. Great. Mary Poppins had arrived.
”Micah, you are welcome to sit and watch the birds whenever you”d like. As a matter of fact, I”d be thrilled if you”d feed and keep those houses all tidied up. I don”t know a thing about them.” She clapped her hands like she won the lottery. Making people happy wasn”t hard when you knew what motivated them. Clearly, this was Micah”s jam.
Horn toots sounded as we exited the path to the driveway, and a piece of home slowed to a halt. I didn”t know whether to cry or attack her as she approached me. Seneca took control of the situation, and I was relieved.
”What the fuck, Abs? You said a big house, not a mansion. Where”s the footman to grab my stuff? Does the chef do made-to-order meals? Are you the house manager?” She looked to Micah for confirmation. To her credit, she raised her shoulders while her eyebrows slid up to her hairline.
Judging by the popping sound in my back, I realized her hugs were crushing me. Seneca was all bluster on the outside but sweet and loving on the inside. We were the same age, but she looked older than I did. It wasn”t that she spent every moment she could in the sun it was her DNA. My bestie was one-eighth American Indian and another African American. Her dad was white and looked older than his years. People used to think she was my older sister or super young mom. Either way, we were as connected as two friends could be without sharing blood.
”Sorry to disappoint you, Sen. I had to fire the footman, and the chef only made mutton.” I couldn’t keep a straight face. I patted her shoulder in consolation, “You”re looking at the sole employee of this here home. For you, though, I”ll do made-to-order meals, but you”re hauling your crap upstairs on your own.” I pointed to her SUV, and we walked over to the hatchback.
”Oh, and this is my friend, Micah. She”s never seen the house either. She”s the librarian here in Mystic. Let”s grab a few things and head back inside for some cookies.”
We each grabbed a bag and dumped them in the kitchen, continuing to the parlor.
”Shit, Abby. It”s like stepping back in time. What are you going to do with all this stuff?” She picked up knick-knacks along our route, then placed them down, only to keep doing that as we passed through the house. I let my friends chat while I pulled the iced coffee out of the fridge. Seneca was a coffee freak, and I wanted to impress her with my new coffee skills.
There were several topics I stayed clear of while Micah was visiting. It wasn”t that I didn”t trust her; it was that I didn”t know her. Mystic was like middle school. Everyone knew everyone else”s business, and I wasn”t ready to share mine beyond moving in. This reminded me that I needed to invite the neighbor ladies I met last week for a meet-and-greet when I was settled. The good news for me, though, was I wasn”t settled and wouldn”t be for a long time.
Micah left after drinking her tea and scarfing down five cookies. She was a nice person, and I wouldn”t mind hanging out with her even if she was at least a decade older than me. Elias was more than a decade older than me, too. Did that make me an old soul? Things to ponder.
After we walked Micah to her car, Seneca barely hit the front porch before starting in on me.
”Cut the shit, Abigail. There is no way you got this house up and running yourself. Who is he? Who helped you? The guy you spouted on about over the phone?” So much for subtle.
”Let”s get your stuff inside, and I”ll bring you up to speed over a bottle of wine.” I didn”t wait for a reply and headed out the door only to hear her snarky comment.
”Day drinking. Bring it on!”
”He said that?” Seneca was my fiercest protector.
I tried to look unaffected, but I missed this side of her the most. No matter what stupid, ridiculous thing I said or did, she would spin a logical reason to defend me without knowing all the details. Growing up, whether I was right or wrong didn”t matter to her. She would chastise me after the fact in the privacy of her bedroom; never in my house. Girl talk was strictly prohibited at my house. Everything uttered in private or in the open came back to haunt me later. It was like Aunt Eleanor bugged the house as if I was a convicted felon on parole. I suppose to her I was. But you can”t hold stealing a pack of Tic Tacs when you”re six over a teenager a decade later. My philosophy was simple: adults drew the lines, and kids were obligated to cross them. Present company included.
During our senior year, Seneca and I devised a scheme to steal our teachers” coffee mugs and move them onto other teachers” desks. To be more devious, we superglued them to their desks once we moved them around. Why? No reason. Only an epic senior prank. Mr. Ruggers almost beat up Senor Nelson when he saw his ”I”m History in the Making” mug on his desk. Priceless. The only other prank that still lives on to this day was that we printed fake money with our faces on the bills. We hid them in every locker, file cabinet, manila folder, backpack, and music folder we could access. Talk about a legacy! ”It was the best of times. It was the worst of times,” I would say on reflection. My English teacher, Mrs. Pearson, would be so proud that I remembered the opening line to A Tale of Two Cities.
My bestie seemed a bit flustered when she sensed someone else was moving in on her turf. I needed to admit to my selfishness and defend Elias.
”He did. Sen, when I tell you I almost broke that man, I did. I must be the blindest bitch in the world not to see how much that man likes me. Why else would he put up with all my bullshit? You barely put up with it!” I pointed to her face, and she rolled her eyes in agreement.
I topped off our glasses, which almost fell off the sofa. Thank goodness reaching for those cookies distracted me, or I”d be on my ass.
”Let me get this straight. He”s everything you”ve ever wanted in a man. He treats you like a princess and fixes everything around here, but you decided you aren”t worth it? What the fuck is wrong with you? He”s right. You are a train wreck, even if you are adorable. Sweetheart, it”s time to love yourself despite your past. Can you do that? For me—and him? For you?”
My coming to Jesus moment shouldn”t begin with a pound of sugar and three glasses of wine. My head was cloudy, but my sight was clear. This was my line in the sand, and, if not now, when? I know I”m worth it, but how much am I worth? That was the blurry line I had trouble finding.